AP English Lang, Per. 4

Yo-Yo Ma

25 January 2010

Where is the Love

In Barbara Kingsolver’s excerpt from her book, Animal, Vegetables, Miracle: A Year of

Food Life, she says, “We’d surely do better if only we knew any better,” but that is not true— people will tend to sacrifice the greater ecological good in favor of their own comfort or convenience (line 15).

Last week, there was a downpour of rain for five consecutive days. It would not let up; it just kept on saying, “Pitter-pat. Pitter-pat. Pitter-pat,” over and over and over again. The evil raindrops were mocking me with the freedom that I did not have. I was tired of looking at the same blank walls, the same old furniture, the same boring people. Finally, the rain decided to take a break from its teasing and I flew outside for a breath of fresh air—for a moment of freedom. All the birds started chirping happily, the sun was shimmering brightly, and all was right in the world. I ran out to the streets, hoping to meet someone that felt the same way as me, but something stopped me in my tracks—the sounds of sprinklers.

Click. Click. Click. Pchoo-choo-choo-choo. Click. Click. Click. At that sound, I whirled my head around with searching eyes, looking for the culprit of the automatic sprinklers.

Then, suddenly, they focused on my neighbor’s yard, two houses down. His green, evenly cut grass was sparkling in the light, making all the other front lawns jealous. The high and mighty grass stood tall like the royal family of England. It looked like one of those places where I would like to take off my shoes and frolic with joy all day long. My first thought about the sprinklers was an evil thought, “Wow. You’re stupid. It was just raining and you’re still watering your lawn?” My eyes then blazed open, shocked at the fact that I was so mean. I instantly took back my words, but I could not help the ghost of those words to cross over to the other side. They haunted me, and I stood on the streets, immobile, not knowing what to do.

I tried to think of the good points of my neighbor, something that would compensate him for making this small mistake—forgetting to turn the sprinklers off. As I searched my mind, I realized that he did not make a mistake. I see his sprinklers on, every day, day and night, rain or shine (just kidding about the night part). I guess it was too much of a hassle to run outside during a rainy week to turn off the sprinklers and run back outside again to turn it back on when the rain stopped. It was just more convenient to leave it.

I reacted the way I did, because Southern California has been stealing water from the northerners for a long time, so we need all the water we can get. There is not enough water to spare on front lawns, but my neighbor did not care. If he did, he would not have had his sprinklers on. But what if he was not home that week? He was home, because I saw him that morning washing his car. But what if he forgot? How can someone forget about his or her sprinklers being on when it is used every day at the same time? Sure, technically, my neighbor was not doing any wrong. The water was still going back to the earth, but that water could have gone to the dying crops of an almost-broke farmer. It could have saved the lives of the crying crops and the forlorn farmer, but I guess my neighbor did not think that deeply.

With all that rain, one would think of turning off his or her automatic sprinklers, but there are people who are too lazy to do such a simple task. It is too inconvenient to do something nice for the greater ecological good; it is more comfortable to sit at home, listening to the pitter-pat.