Reporter On Location, Pacific Northwest Rainforest high on a hill in the Cascade range
Margo and Herman live the ultimate recylced-off-grid-save-the-planet lifestyle. Acid Rain by 1999 will have defaced some of our most iconic statues and memorials and destroyed thousands of acres of farmland leading to catastrophic starvation throughout the world in as little as five years. Life by 2004 will probably be untenable.
Herman’s cause is the hole in the Ozone layer which is letting in harmful solar radiation and heating up the planet. By 2010, those without radiation skin cancer will probably be dying of starvation! It is rumored that Al Gore himself reached out to Margo and Herman before starting his own activism campaign. “Usually when the media stops harping on the latest doomsday shit people move on, but not Margo and Herman.” Unfortunately my own interview was cut a little short.
–Reporter
In an off grid compound only accessible via logging road in a dumped RV live Margo and Herman, retired environmentalists, still carrying the flag for their causes. They will not back down, they will not surrender — they have chosen the most efficient life for not for themselves but the Planet(TM)(R)!
As a reporter the first thing I noticed was the wind. West facing cleared slope took the brunt of the west wind whipping in from the Baring Sea, bringing cold and moisture year around. I wondered if Margo and Herman had considered the landslide risk?
I park the lifted Jeep down the road before the sticky mud deepened. I shoulder my backpack with Margo’s requested groceries and head up the mud track that is largely washed out. Crackers, Tuna, Sun Flower Seeds, and Toilet Paper. I bought a few extras and put into the bag as well. I am wearing rain slicks and tall rubber boots for the trek.
The hill is shrouded in cloud mist, which means the wind isn’t bad as long as I’m in the trees and forest line, but it takes just a minute or so to be soaked and chilled.
When the logged area begins I see the trash dump which is home to Margo and Herman, the small abandoned RV sits a bit tilted to one side, its colors faded away.
Margo is thin with a cloud of curly grey hair going in every direction and a collection of knit garments that she piles on everyday in layers against the cold and damp.
I’ve brought coffee in addition to the groceries. Their eyes light up. Coffee is the language of the Pacific Northwest.
Margo is the last known activist against Acid Rain known to exist in the Cascade mountain range, she retired from the County HR department. Herman her husband of over forty years came to activism late and his cause is the hole in the Ozone Layer.
Margo stands just 5’2 (157cm), and Herman is two inches shorter (152cm). I’m unsure their age, and hesitant to ask because Margo is fired up and ready to talk. Her manner in every way is aggressive. I’m unsure how to proceed.
“OWLS!” Margo says. “SPOTTED OWLS.” She is staring into the trees. I don’t see anything but Margo with her cloudy eyes beneath layers of wrinkles squint in the direction of the tree line above us, at least I think so…
“Oh”, I say off hand, “no, the owls interbred with another local species. They’re good.”
I feel the heat of the sun coming off Margo as she glares at me and her voice goes up a few octaves. Oh, shit, I’ve done it now and she’s cranked up on a double shot of espresso into that Americano….I’m fucked.
I back peddle like a coward.
“I mean, Great Horned owl, sorry I get those confused. I’m not as familiar with owl species as you are.” I blush and look at the ground like an idiot.
“Why in the hell were they trying to save the Great Horned Owl? Aren’t those everywhere?!” She says pointedly. Yeah, they’re common…which is why I know what they’re called.
“Maybe it was the Lesser Horned Owl, they’re endangered but they interbred with the Great Horned Owl” <– I just made that shit up.
Margo still looks mad as hell, although it’s kinda a fixed expression and it’s kinda hard to say, and these too really don’t interact with humanity much so … maybe it’s just a normal Margo face.
Soon Margo is showing me her Judo photos. They’re mostly polaroid’s that are turning maize colors. She’s listing tournaments and about winning but I don’t follow any of it. I’m not sure what Judo is… “that’s the Joe Rogan sport isn’t it?” I finally interject.
“WHO!?” She snaps irritated before continuing on. I’m totally lost.
Herman has not said a word but looks utterly content with his coffee. I think Herman is Japanese-American. He looks pretty good for his age all things considered. There is a kindness about him, but maybe I’m making up things again. I realize my mind has wandered far afield because I have no clue what Margo is talking about, we’re still in the far past on a Judo matt, or a Judo dojo, whatever is used in Judo –that is Margo right now. Time to steer the conversation back to the environment. I notice Margo’s hands. They look like my Dad’s who was a carpenter and welder. I wonder if that’s from being a Judo champion….or….
From the corner of my eye I see movement.
It’s a GIANT RAT. I scream. I jump back. I see my life flash in front of my eyes. I’m transfixed with horror. It goes right up to Margo. It begins to climb up her skirt.
I am freaking the fuck out.
Herman is behind me and tries to pat my shoulder and I jump so hard and I’m screaming a blood curdling cry that is traveling across the hills.
I’m hyperventilating.
Herman says in a quiet and accented voice, “that’s an O’possum, it’s our pet o’possum Haiji.”
Turn out Haiji is domesticated and used to getting treats and it must have smelled the groceries…but I’ve already grabbed my backpack.
“OH HELL NO”
Margo and Herman are trying to tell me some kind of freakin’ giant rat O’Possum facts and calm me down, but I was getting the hell out of there. I don’t know if I even properly said goodbye before hoofing it down the mountain. Ever seen O’Possum eyes? They’re black and beedy and unblinking like a giant possessed rat.
And yeah, that was the end of the interview – forever. I feel a little sheepish.
I probably should go back, but I can’t face Margo and honestly endure another boring Judo story. And…. well the smell. I have a really sensitive nose. And… there were a lot of smells.
So yeah…..basically in Dysmal Nitch we only have two activists and one refuses to give up on Acid Rain and the other is still upset about the Ozone Layer. Apparently they live in a dump up on the side of a hill.
