I am really honoured to have my writing shared with your subscribers, Britt. I think what you are doing with Gen Dread to bring attention to the emotional terrain of climate action is so vital, and love your approach that mixes scientific research with narrative storytelling. I am so pleased we found each other's work and connected. I am also looking forward to sharing your writing with subscribers of The Understory,
Upon re-reading this Issue, I had a huge sinking feeling in my stomach when reaching the passage quoting Barry Lopez. In fact, it almost brought me to tears. On December 25, Lopez passed away from prostate cancer. Within the span of just six weeks of writing Issue Fourteen, we lost one of our greatest nature writers. The story is heartbreaking not just because we lost Lopez to help us continue to navigate through the climate crisis, but also because after so many years of writing about climate change, Lopez passed away in a temporary home due to his home along the McKenzie River in Oregon having burned during the fall wildfires.
I take great comfort that he seems to have died just as he lived, gently, according to his wife and surrounded by family. She describes Lopez's final hours as the following:
"We played John Adams' music (a brother to Barry), we also played Arvo Part's "Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten" at full volume while we held him. In the final hours, we filled the room with Richard Nelson's (another brother) birdsong recordings—particularly the cackling ravens. We hung a self-portrait of Rick Bartow on the wall where Barry could see it. (Those two were probably already making mischief.) Barry's dearest Auntie, Lillian Pitt, guided us. The scent of herbs, the prayers, the fresh air through the windows. The light. We told him a thousand times, a thousand-thousand times, that we love him, that we will love him always, that he could cross his river now. At 7:21, he stepped in, with one last long breath. We washed him with water from the McKenzie River and wrapped him in a Pendleton blanket."
Honoured that you'd let me share your writing here Adam! I hope that some of my readers will connect with more of your essays at theunderstory.substack.com, as I did. I've definitely got some reading to do, as Lopez is clearly a towering force in environmental writing, and yet I've never read him. That scene of his death is remarkable. Thanks for letting me know about his talent and impact. I'll check out Horizon.
I am really honoured to have my writing shared with your subscribers, Britt. I think what you are doing with Gen Dread to bring attention to the emotional terrain of climate action is so vital, and love your approach that mixes scientific research with narrative storytelling. I am so pleased we found each other's work and connected. I am also looking forward to sharing your writing with subscribers of The Understory,
Upon re-reading this Issue, I had a huge sinking feeling in my stomach when reaching the passage quoting Barry Lopez. In fact, it almost brought me to tears. On December 25, Lopez passed away from prostate cancer. Within the span of just six weeks of writing Issue Fourteen, we lost one of our greatest nature writers. The story is heartbreaking not just because we lost Lopez to help us continue to navigate through the climate crisis, but also because after so many years of writing about climate change, Lopez passed away in a temporary home due to his home along the McKenzie River in Oregon having burned during the fall wildfires.
I take great comfort that he seems to have died just as he lived, gently, according to his wife and surrounded by family. She describes Lopez's final hours as the following:
"We played John Adams' music (a brother to Barry), we also played Arvo Part's "Cantus in Memoriam Benjamin Britten" at full volume while we held him. In the final hours, we filled the room with Richard Nelson's (another brother) birdsong recordings—particularly the cackling ravens. We hung a self-portrait of Rick Bartow on the wall where Barry could see it. (Those two were probably already making mischief.) Barry's dearest Auntie, Lillian Pitt, guided us. The scent of herbs, the prayers, the fresh air through the windows. The light. We told him a thousand times, a thousand-thousand times, that we love him, that we will love him always, that he could cross his river now. At 7:21, he stepped in, with one last long breath. We washed him with water from the McKenzie River and wrapped him in a Pendleton blanket."
Orion Magazine collected reflections from many writers on the influence of Lopez's writing https://orionmagazine.org/article/writers-artists-on-the-influence-of-barry-lopez. If you are new to his work, I strongly recommend Horizon either in writing or as an audiobook.
Rest in peace, Barry. In grief, we love.
Honoured that you'd let me share your writing here Adam! I hope that some of my readers will connect with more of your essays at theunderstory.substack.com, as I did. I've definitely got some reading to do, as Lopez is clearly a towering force in environmental writing, and yet I've never read him. That scene of his death is remarkable. Thanks for letting me know about his talent and impact. I'll check out Horizon.