Reading this book reminded me, as it will remind others, what it’s like to explore a magnificent mind. Edward Myers (1917-2002) was an original, to say the least – philosopher, mathematician, aquaculture and fisheries expert, historian, economist, political theorist, sailor, wharfinger, the list goes on and on – who happened to live here on the Maine coast, right in our midst. For decades, he counseled everyone from the governor on down (or would he say “on up”?) on topics ranging from language (“northeaster” vs. “nor’easter”) to the very future of our planet.
So when it was decided to publish a book of Ed Myers’ writings, someone had to figure out what to include; what small part of Myers’ mind to explore. The choice to focus on sustainability – “Musings on the Earth’s Future” is the book’s subtitle – was an excellent one, but it necessarily leaves out a great deal.
Turnaround consists of essays written for various purposes. There are several columns that appeared originally in Working Waterfront; there are sermons, letters and a few unpublished fragments. “The Trouble with Bob’s Rapeseed,” a WWF column, seems particularly timely this spring with Monsanto’s announcement that it’s getting out of the genetically altered wheat business; Myers’ 1999 piece recounted, with characteristic humor, the difficulty of obtaining seed for ground cover that didn’t require the use of a herbicide that would contaminate Clark’s Cove below his house. That the column begins with a trip in an ambulance and makes a detour into the world of pain killers and the salary of Monsanto’s chairman and the company’s callous attitude toward ten people who died from gastrointestinal hemorrhages caused by Celebrex makes it all the more telling. In the end, Myers can’t determine if his rapeseed came from Monsanto, so he can’t use it.
Ed Myers was an elegant essayist, one who could move easily from rapeseed to the chairman’s salary and back without sowing confusion; one who could lecture on war, water purification, the “small is beautiful” philosophy or the fun of missing the Republican Convention while sailing across the Gulf of Maine – all without ever sounding pompous or condescending. It’s a set of talents every scribbler (including this one) would do well to cultivate.
One day, if the demand is sufficient, we’ll re-publish Ed’s column on “nor’easter” vs. “northeaster.” TV weathermen should commit it to memory.