My own curiosity and knowing what a caring, aware young woman you are help me override despair.

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Rosemary Wilvert
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My dear granddaughter Christy,

I’ll be 88 when this archive is first opened in 2030, and you may be a mother.

Earth’s most powerful country has just been taken over by leaders in 2017 who have begun tipping all three branches of our government, repealing rights, regulations, restraints . . . . What will climate-science-denier oil men and racists do — or undo — in four years to the 250-year-old experiment we call democracy, and to our earth? Often I think I don’t want to be around to see.

Since I was a girl, nature has been my haven, my god. Earth’s wonders belong too to the children of tomorrow. I hurt to see an animal killed, a tree felled, a faucet left running. In my small life I’ve joined with millions hanging clothes to dry, catching rainwater, trying to undo our species’ extravagance. Seeing the pleasures of simplifying catching on, hearing multitudes speaking up to protect land and water from oil rigs and pipelines, I do want to stick around to see if humanity acts in time to curb climate change. My own curiosity and knowing what a caring, aware young woman you are help me override despair.

Reaching for hope,

Grandma

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