In honor of World Ocean Day, I'd like to give a thumbs-down shout-out to our species for carelessly laying waste to the oceans of our blue planet. I'd like to also take this opportunity to remind everyone that the reason the planet is blue, IS because of the very oceans we are actively decimating. The next generations, should they somehow survive all this nonsense, will most likely call it the "brown planet” for all the rust and actual crap, or "plastic planet” for all the shopping bags flying in the radioactive winds. I live in Florida, which is basically a sand dune jotting into the ocean. It is flush with animals and plant life. Or was. Until a certain species arrived, this was an ocean-front replica of Garden of Eden, with the ocean and land and all the creatures within them living in glorious harmony in an echo system that was working like a well-crafted Swiss watch. Until, I'm assuming, just like the real Garden of Eden, a mad scientist husband-and-wife team arrived and spliced genes in snakes and apples and things, and thus, gave birth to two new life forms: Tourists and Snowbirds! These non-native invasive species plundered the natural resources like an unsupervised toddler going at a sundae cone. They bulldozed forests, destroying native plant-life, cutting down centuries-old trees, to make room for theme parks. Theme parks with artificial plant life! And, get this: plastic trees! Some after-thought was given to nature conservancy, though, and some areas, however tiny, were left alone. And then, thousands of acres of green spaces around were paved over so visitors could park their cars and visit these remaining few acres of green spaces left between shopping strips, pawn shops, and gambling casinos. And a few thousand gift shops with over-sized parking lots, hundreds of road rage incidents with casualties, and fifty or so theme parks later, the whole place started looking like a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie. Like lava from an active volcano, this unfettered human pollution covered everything from shore to shore. And it did not stop at the shore, either. The mighty ocean got its fair share of abuse along with everything else on land. Actually, “the ocean got polluted” would not even be a proper description any longer. Now, it's more like “pollution got a little bit of ocean splashed on it”. Dolphins and alligators alike are choking on small white balls with weird dents on them, while panthers are drowning in backyard swimming pools. Black bears are starving next to the dumpsters behind supermarkets full of half-eaten food items, and the fish are buying up all the scuba gear and oxygen tanks just to survive the unlivable polluted waters. The catch of the day for the local fishermen is typically made up of golf clubs, meth pipes, refrigerators and worn-out flip-flops. And, the occasional fish. Clinically-depressed fish that chose suicide-by-fisherman over death-by-plastic-and-or-chemicals. Whatever damage levels achieved with land-based efforts like sewage, industrial waste and plastic garbage, was further supported and expanded with off-shore drilling with occasional oil spills on top of their regular pollutions. Off-shore sounds sterile until you do the math and realize it's still in the same ocean and only one ocean current or tropical storm distance from shore. Think gun-to-the-head execution-style versus sniper fire. Same end result: One fatally-shot ocean. It may not be too late. But we need a whole new species of mankind to enter the scene for a better result. One that respects the environment and not treat it like a distant relative up in age that we are mooching off of, who in all likelihood will leave us the entire estate in his will anyway. The very same estate we are burning down! Time to teach our children, the planet is sustainable, only if we choose to sustain it! So next time they ask you "plastic or paper bag?". hear this: "choke a bird or kill a tree?". And juggle your groceries to the bed of your gigantic truck that would better serve a commercial enterprise with heavy hauling needs, than a petite accountant working from home. Let us observe the “Ocean Day”, not to completely disregard the oceans for the rest of the year, but to remind ourselves that the oceans deserve our attention every single day. If we do not, then we might as well teach our grandkids to celebrate “Breathable Air Day” along with “Potable Water Day “only once a year, too. And hope that there will be enough air masks and rationed water to go around.

The mother, with the baby on her back, walked through the barren land. The hunt for water seemed never-ending. Trees were ripped of its glory; only the dry twigs remained, shaking occasionally when a breeze blew. The mother could never forget the image she saw a few days before. She was resting just like usual; she tilted her head and stared at the baby in her arms; it was weak and fragile. As she rested, she saw an eagle sprawling over another body, which lay down, too weak to get up. Circling around the body, it swooped down beside the body and waited for the human to die, but his energy was failing him. If the eagle waited for any longer, the eagle would die. Slowly, it walked to the body and started pecking at the lifeless creature. The mother looked away, not being able to bear the scene. She took her child and walked away, ignoring the slow moans of the body. Dragging her legs, she tried to get rid of the image which haunted her for days. Every night, she woke up in the middle of sleep, dreaming the eagle attacking her child. She stole glances around, ensuring the eagle wasn't chasing her. The lone human in the place, she carried her baby and journeyed in search of water. The Mother Earth was dying and so was she. The prospect of her child having to face the situation alone, empowered her to live her life. She dropped down; the day was extremely hot and she sweltered under the heat. Laying the baby in her lap, she took deep breaths, grateful at the presence of air for their sustenance. Her legs and hands were collapsing and now she wanted more than anything for the eagle to feast on her. Placing her child on the bare arid land, she lay down beside her, drifting off into sleep, no sooner than she lay down. The blazing sun welcomed her. The universe seemed to function only for her. The sun was glaring directly at her and the child. Mustering energy, she got up, looking down at her child. Tears welled in her eyes. She wasn't sure if she was hallucinating, but she saw something glistening beyond in the sunlight. Just the sight of water relished her. A surge of satisfaction swept through her. Carrying the sleeping child, she broke into a sprint, but her legs had gone limp. Hobbling, she walked determinedly, her eyes on the prize. As she drew closer, a sudden surge of dread filled her. The water was present in an infinitesimal amount. It would quench the thirst of neither the mother or the child, but would barely sustain one. She can drink it and watch her son die or she can grant it to her child, sacrificing herself, letting her child face the harsh life. Or she could split the difference and even then, it would make no change. Both of them would die together. Viewing the water, she sat beside it, her child in her arms.

When I was ten years old, the only thing I was worried about was who I should play with at recess. However, that all changed when my grandma told me about an annual cleanup that happens at the lake every may. At first, I wasn't thrilled about the idea of having to pick up other people's litter, but I was soon persuaded to help. It made me realize that sometimes people can get so caught up on things that don't matter, that they miss the things that do. When the day of the cleanup finally rolled around, it was a desert. Because nobody showed, they decided to reschedule it for the next weekend. My grandma and I thought it would be a fantastic idea to try and advertise the cleanup as much as possible. We made phone calls, social media posts, and even spread the word to the customers at her restaurant. Eventually, the day of the cleanup came. It was packed in fact, over a hundred people showed up. My cousin Drew and I decided that we should go cleanup around the shoreline. It was disgusting, there was trash everywhere! As we cleaned up, we noticed that a duck had a baby blue piece of plastic dangling out of its mouth, but just as it flew away the tiny piece of garbage slipped out of the duck's bill. This established to me and my cousin that not only does the trash look awful, but it also has a big impact on the wildlife too. “People can pass by this every day, and no think anything of it.” he stated. “I know” I replied softly. Later that night, I had thought a lot about what he said, and how I was a part of the problem. Before the cleanup I could have cared less about the pollution on the ground and in the water. In fact, people all around the world don't even come close to understanding what they are doing to this planet, and I wanted to make a difference. Now when I see trash that I can pick up I always do to try and help make earth a better place. Overall, if there is something you truly believe in, then you shouldn't be afraid to encourage others to help. It doesn't take much to make a difference, but even a small change can have a huge impact.