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How It Started ... A Miracle  I witnessed a miracle on June 4, 2002: Baby Gabriel came to our world. His mother and I were blessed with a healthy baby (see note.) Moments after the birth, I stood near his cot and watched him watching bravely the new world he had just entered. Becoming a parent was an amazing feeling, an unparalleled experience. The first spellbinding moments were filled with joy and wonderment. I could never have even begun to comprehend the feeling of completeness before I became a parent. Parenthood was also a terrifying experience. Soon after his birth, my joy was overshadowed by worry, even fear, as I kept wondering weather the baby would live. Were his mother and I doing the right things to protect him? How could we prevent cot death? Was breastfeeding safe? Was he exposed to any prenatal hormone disruptors? Would he develop as a normal baby? How polluted was the air he breathed? Was it safe to vaccinate him? What vaccines did he really need? My chief worries however are ongoing: How long could he survive in "my" world? Would he be able to cope with the legacy of my generation? Would he become addicted to nicotine, alcohol, TV, or narcotics? Would he be brainwashed and join the military? Could he lead a normal life, reach adulthood, and have children, too? Would he want to have any children, given the state of the world that he will inherit? Would there be enough hope, clean water or uncontaminated fish left for him? Could he really prosper (or even survive) in a dying world left behind by my generation? Note In "Our Stolen Future" (Theo Colborn et al., 1997) I read about grotesquely deformed frogs which researchers had found at more than 100 sites in Minnesota: "One animal had four legs sprouting from its stomach; another a leg growing out of its neck. The most bizarre, perhaps was a frog with an eye inside its mouth." I had wondered when such bizarre abnormalities, most likely caused by pesticides (such as DDT) and synthetic chemicals such as dioxin and PCB - the real WMD - would manifest themselves in humans. I didn't have to wait long. On June 9, 2003, a baby girl was born in Nepal. She had 4 eyes, 2 mouths, and 2 noses. My Childhood Oftentimes I wonder whether the world was a kinder, gentler place when I was a child. Certainly, it seemed to be a much larger place filled with more hopes and dreams. I had a happy childhood. My family seemed to always find time to do things together. Most weekends we went on picnics. A short distance from the city there were many unspoiled beauty spots where the cool mountain water ran through the scenic land; the water was so clean you could drink from the brooks. There were no worries about the air effluence, land contamination, or water pollution. Everything was pure and untainted. There was no fear of nuclear waste, toxic leftovers, or global heating. No one ever mentioned the dwindling earth's natural resources. Life and everything around me were so glittery and the sparkles seemed to last forever. Life seemed to be as life should always be: a beautiful unending story. Like most children, I drank Coca Cola, ate popcorn, and watched cowboys kill Indians. By the age of five, like all true cowboys, I wore a plastic holster and a six-shooter walking around shooting imaginary Indians. Thank you (!) Hollywood. One day I took off my ten-gallon hat, abandoned my horse (a tricycle handed down to me) and decided to be an astronaut; I heard on the radio that Yuri Gagarin circled the earth in his Vostok. The "next" day, JFK was assassinated in his Lincoln— I no longer knew who or what I wanted to be. During those long, golden days, I knew nothing about the wars in Indochina, the cold war, or the looming nuclear arms race; I was unaware of the impact my father's generation had upon our planet. Come to think of it, he (and most of his peers) probably didn't fully understand their impact, either. Now, as I watch with horror the two generations, his and mine, continue to ravage the planet and destroy the precious life it sustains. My dreamy childhood images have since but completely tarnished. Harry Saloor Founder |
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