All Summer in a Day

I watched An Inconvenient Truth last night. What a horror. No new themes, for me, but the scale--the urgency--well, suffice to say this: that I thought of my own childhood, and snow up to my waist, and thought how my kids have seen snow that deep only once, and maybe it's not just that I was really short back then and they're really tall: maybe it's not just that. I didn't recycle more today, though I will. I didn't unplug the unused appliances. I did struggle on cars.com, trying to identify the car I'm about to purchase--the vehicle that satisfies my tastes, principles, and budget--and there's no resolution there yet, though I'll put the principle first, I swear. I did decide that I'm never again calling the kids in out of the snow just because I think they must be getting cold. They can crawl in when the flesh feels like it's going to shake off their thighs. What if there's no snow some day? Like, some day soon? No, seriously.

Do you remember that Ray Bradbury short about the little girl, Margot, who lived on rainy Venus, and was the only one of her classmates who could remember what the sun looked like? And the kids locked her in the classroom closet, so she missed the window--the one hour every howevermany years when the rain stopped and the kids saw the sun? Thought of that today, too.

Al Gore was surprisingly prosaic, I thought. Surprisingly dynamic.

Go see the flick.