The little cottage is delightfully settled. We walk uphill, downhill, all within a couple of steps. The charm of the old building we’re staying at in rural Nova Scotia. I like the time a month away gives. There’s no rushing around to squeeze everything into a few days; we get to, if only briefly, step out of our routine and into a new one—new bakery, new morning walking route, new playground—trying on a different life, while still remaining a bit removed from it all. That wonky floor, lovely instead of something to fix, no need to dress a certain way for the market, we’re not going to run into anyone we know, the headlines in the morning news, not our problems to worry about.
Except this year, the worries in the voices of the people we meet seem all too familiar. Talks about backyard bonfires for s’mores turn to when it’s safe to burn and inevitably wildfires; beach walks with the dog only after checking the blue-green algae warnings. It feels like we’re on the edge of a new normal—one with days of extreme heat, devastating floods and one catastrophic headline after another.
I’m scared. I don’t know what to do. I appreciate what you do. I’ve heard some version of that statement from so many over the past week—friends and colleagues, strangers at the beach, even the AirBnb rep that helped me sort out an issue back home. There is so much we can’t control. The fossil fuel industry that no longer outright denies climate change but is doubling-down on misinformation, the politicians that refuse to act, the corporations that entice us to consume away our children’s future without taking any responsibility for the waste their products create. Yet, for all we can’t control, we can control the most important thing: how we prepare our kids for whatever their climate future looks like. And we can do it while nudging the system.
I set a reminder on my calendar to email my local elected officials about a climate action I want them to take once a month. Recent ones have been about increasing public transportation funding, adding more EV fast chargers, making it easier to add additional solar panels to homes with existing systems (right now in my state you can’t for reasons that make little sense), and supporting Senator Martin Heinrich (D-NM)’s Living Schoolyards Act. I don’t always get a response, but years ago, I interned for a congressman and a senator, and I know that emails, letters and calls do get tallied up and shared with the politicians. That they can matter.
On the drive up to Nova Scotia, though, amid record-breaking heat, headlines about sea level rise and my worries about keeping my child occupied enough this month, or at least enough so I could work, I wanted, I needed to find positive news, however small, so I looked for people I could thank.
I had recently finished reading I Want to Thank You, in which Gina Hamadey chronicles a year of writing 365 gratitude thank you notes to everyone from friends to family to former colleagues to casual acquaintances. She found the letters boosted confidence and reconnected her to others and herself.
Gratitude, numerous studies have shown, allows us to be more creative and optimistic and builds resilience. A recent study found that those who performed a gratitude task reported increased emotional coping skills. It helps us to recognize the positive instead of focusing solely on the bad.
I sent thank-you notes to the owners of a gas station who had installed a fast EV charger, the news anchors at an ABC affiliate in Bangor who, after stating the news about the heat, took a moment to comment on how it worried them personally, adding emotion that’s often lacking from news reports on the climate change, the hotel that had reusable coffee mugs at breakfast. All small things, but all meaningful.
Here are some thank-you writing tips.
Keep it short. A perfect thank-you note is not very long; it’s simple, specific and genuine.
There’s no deadline. Because there’s no expectation of a gratitude thank-you letter, there’s no statute of limitations on when you can send one. It’s impossible to be late.
Write it out. I didn’t do this. I sent emails, but Gina suggests handwritten, mailed notes because being able to hold something is more memorable and takes the pressure off a reply back for the recipient.
Don’t expect anything in return. While you may get a response, Gina says to send the notes without expecting anything.
Just do it. Can you find three people to send a thank you note over the next month for their climate actions?
~ Bridget