Op-Ed: Hurricane Ian and the coming climate crash
Hurricane Ian is a truly terrifying story about a storm, two weather satellites, and a few failed predictions, all told through the lens of science. I sat down with two scientists to get their take on the subject.
I was born under a bad sign. It started early on.
By the eighth day of my life, I wasn’t a baby any more. I had started walking and talking and my head was crowned with a single black fuzz of hair, but my body was still covered in the downy fuzz that had always been so much a part of me. I was the kind of baby where if you didn’t feed me, you ate me.
Even though that was my preferred form of feeding, I still hadn’t had enough food by the time I turned one. But instead of putting me down in a stank pile, I’d pick me up and run to my mother, who’d immediately scoop me up and start cuddling me. It was what I liked to think of as my mother-and-child bonding ritual. To do it was to feel good — she was so good.
I was also the second kid in my family to go to any doctor. The first was my grandmother, who always looked for the cheapest doctors wherever she went, because of her chronic health problems. “You’re going to be fine,” she would say. “You’re going to be just fine.”
When I turned one, though, things began to get a little better. By one, I was sitting upright on the edge of my mother’s bed, and I had started walking. A few months later, I made it to the living room, where I could see the sunlight through the windows. I had begun to make some attempts at walking. There were occasional pauses, as my brain fought to catch up with my legs and thighs. Those were the moments I thought about my grandmother. They were the moments where I realized how much more I was missing her than I realized at the time.
The day after I turned six, I took my first breaths without