I always thought clean air and clean water were a birthright. My delusional dream of the great outdoors. Back in the days of leaded gasoline, the problems were just below the surface. The needs of industrial America were slowly tearing at that dream. Today, that dream is slowly turning into a nightmare.
I used to hike these hills with my father. Back then, the trees were thick, the rivers clear, and the air crisp. He’d shake his head at the smokestacks on the horizon and say, “They’ll take everything if we let them.”
Turns out, we let them.
The companies swore they’d changed. Cleaner fuels, better regulations, sustainability reports full of glossy pictures of blue skies and happy children. But it was all a shell game. They planted a few trees while clear-cutting forests overseas. They scrubbed their smokestacks while dumping waste into rivers. They bought out scientists, buried studies, lobbied for loopholes. And we kept buying their lies, right up until the air was too thick to breathe.
Now, I step outside and taste metal on my tongue. The sun struggles through a layer of haze, its light filtered by decades of unchecked ambition. A commercial blares from a passing electric bus, boasting about “a greener future.” I cough into my sleeve and keep walking past the latest refinery “expansion project.”
They tell us they’re fixing it. They always say that. Meanwhile, their profits soar, their CEOs collect bonuses, and their waste keeps piling up. The world didn’t have to end this way. But when the choice was between the planet and the bottom line, we all know which one they chose.
The great outdoors? It was never theirs to sell. But they sold it anyway.
And now, we’re the ones paying the price.
