Belle Curve: Last Night

My husband fields the question. There, the teachers sketch their plan to engage students on climate change.

Now go talk about it.

Projected on the screen behind them is a picture of children beside a tree, one of them with arms wrapped around it. Afterwards he says to me: In September, I leave home for the first time since having children. Moab steeps me in a sense of deep time—the striations in the red rocks, millennia of erosion, evidence of a long-gone interior ocean—and in the continuity of human life, the ancient indigenous ruins, the petroglyphs, the abandoned mines, the site once slated for nuclear waste burial. On the last night of the Congress, the women gather on a footbridge spanning the Colorado River to watch moonrise.

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There are taiko drummers and their rhythms ricochet off the rocks. At our backs are uranium tailings, almost marking the gates of Arches National Park—such a startling juxtaposition, all that we leave behind.

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The next afternoon, on the way home from the Congress, my friend and SEHN colleague, Madeleine Kangsen Scammell and I detour to Rocky Flats, the former nuclear weapons factory, slated to become a wildlife refuge, and also maybe a highway. The clouds coming off the Rockies were thick; the sun shone down in broad columns as we drive the perimeter of the property looking for signs—any sign that might mark the history of what happened on this innocuous, majestic parcel of land.

We turn back toward the airport, crossing Woman Creek, which drains from the property into Standley Lake , whose sediment is now laced with plutonium, whose water still runs from the taps of area communities see Iversen Along the eastern side of the property, we pass a woman on the side of the road.

Belle Curve, White Lighter in San Francisco at The Hotel Utah

She holds a sign. We are to discuss the most pressing environmental crises, and strategies to address them. But instead the focus is on it being too late, that too many thresholds have been crossed, too much irrevocable damage done, too much political gridlock, that the next generations will suffer handedly at our hands. While I listen, from across the parking lot, I watch three year olds skipping across the playground, chasing each other around the elms, scaling the climbing wall, and sliding down in a tangle of knees and elbows and giggles.

Soon after, Sandy swallows the Atlantic and spits it across the Caribbean, the East Coast, and into the interior.

Mega Billions

New York wants to lead on climate change, but struggles to hold back the natural gas barbarians amassing at their gates. I had been writing a book about environmental legacy—about pollution we transfer from generation to generation, about problems with uncertain endings. I consult with an editor. He tells me all stories travel a narrative arc, that the arc rises then falls toward a comedic or tragic conclusion.

An Incredibly Simple Explanation Of How The Bell Curve Works

How will it end? I start reading about stories that follow a different form, about writing that takes a different shape. We return to the Museum of Science. Yet again, I find myself standing in front of the Galton Box. At my feet, my now two year old wriggles and widely gesticulates with excitement. I open a blank document.

DeChristopher spoke with Tempest prior to his sentencing to federal prison for attempting to outbid oil and gas companies during an auction of public land, an un-premeditated act born from a moment in which standing outside the auction, sign in hand, no longer seemed enough. What I recollect from the exchange, is this: It takes just a few outliers to shift the balance, to shift the entire curve, perhaps even to reshape it.

Step toward the tails. Or support those already there marching it outward. To learn more, and to support the Climate Forward rally logistics visit: Also, to learn more about Idle No More, you can visit them here: That jackpot was shared by three winners in three different states. Most states will charge additional income taxes on the award.

Suffice it to say, a single winner on Tuesday stands to take home a little more than half a billion dollars. Have you ever thought about what you would do if you won a large lottery jackpot?

The Beer Bell Curve (makes for an interesting lunch conversation)

I admit, I have. When the jackpots are high I occasionally buy a quick pick or two. I think about a few luxuries I would indulge in with the prize; a live-in nanny, a private jet subscription, an apartment in Manhattan. I would need a whole bunch of additional insurance coverage, especially liability insurance because now I have a whole lot to lose. Did I mention that lottery winners do not have the option to be anonymous?

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What would life become without that drive? Without something to strive for, why would I get out of bed in the morning?