On Thursday June 29th, we left Cleveland, bound for a long weekend in Northern Michigan to visit with friends and drop my older daughter off at summer camp near Traverse City. The day was one of several poor air quality days that we’ve had this summer in Northeast Ohio as the Canadian wildfire smoke made its way to our skies as well as those of millions of others. As we got in the car I paused for a minute wondering if I should dig our KN95 masks back out.  

The drive was unsettling. My younger daughter described it as “foggy” but it wasn’t a wet, grey mist. It was a dry haze with an orange tint. It felt sinister. The smoky air persisted the whole route across I-90 in Ohio and then as we turned and headed north into and across Michigan. 

Luckily, the air quality improved on Friday and through the weekend, but we know that the smoke will return.

And while we’d all like to pretend otherwise, we’re all thinking the same thing: Will this be the new normal? Is this another dimension of our climate crisis that seems to be accelerating ever faster and faster? 

Let’s just say it: It’s a dark thought, and it’s hard to sit with. But by saying it aloud, we acknowledge that this frightening challenge is part of our shared reality. And by recognizing it as such, maybe those of us who feel despair surrounding climate change can lessen our individualized emotions and know the burden is shared.

On Saturday morning we drove to Frankfort, on Lake Michigan. We headed for the public beach where children poured out of our cars and gleefully headed for the shoreline and sand play. Childhood joy was on display.

The air was much clearer, but there was still some smoke lingering. It was enough that, when looking out at the lake, that bright horizon line I often mention wasn’t bright. The horizon wasn’t actually visible much at all, just gradations of blue between water and sky. 

What lay ahead in the distance was unseen and unknown.