For those wanting to know more about JK and THK’s new book, “This Moment on Earth”, there’s a new webpage with an updated tour schedule and a schedule of media appearances as well as an excerpt from the book. It also asks for the stories of citizens who’ve had an impact in your local area so go tell your story or the story of someone you know has done something innovative for the environment in your area.

And just to whet your appetite, here’s an excerpt from one of the stories in the book:

Rick Dove knows far too well the potential health impacts of agricultural pollution. He has lived along the shores of the Neuse River near New Bern, North Carolina, for more than twenty-five years. After graduating from the University of Baltimore Law School in 1962, he joined the Marine Corps and served two tours in Vietnam. In 1987, he retired as a colonel and settled back into civilian life in North Carolina.

“I fell in love with the place,” he said simply. “All I ever really wanted to do was to be a commercial fisherman. So after I retired, I decided to pursue that dream and couldn’t think of any place better than the Neuse River.” He remembered that years earlier the river had seemed like “a paradise” to him. With the help of his son Todd, Rick Dove bought three boats, from which they worked over 600 crab pots and more than 2,000 feet of gill nets. They opened a little seafood outlet store, and for two years, enjoyed the life of commercial fishermen.

But then, father and son began to notice a change in the water. Many of the fish floating by their boats had open, bleeding sores. At first it was only a few, but as time passed, the numbers of bleeding fish grew larger and larger. It was a disturbing sight, but not nearly as disturbing as what happened next. Soon, both Rick and Todd began to develop similar sores on their arms, hands, and legs. Rick began to experience memory loss. As he talked to other fishermen, he heard similar, equally horrifying stories. Some men reported losing consciousness at sea. Others found themselves in their boats unable to remember how to get back to the dock, or after a long day of fishing, couldn’t find their way home.

The situation escalated. The next year, more fish were developing the bleeding lesions, and Rick’s health also worsened. Frustrated and disappointed, he knew he was too sick to keep going. He stopped fishing and gave up his business.

Then, in 1991, the Neuse River suffered the largest fish kill ever recorded in the state’s history. Over 1 billion fish died in a six-week period during September and October. There were so many dead fish that some had to be bulldozed into the ground. Others were left to rot on the shore and river bottom. The stench produced by this kill was overwhelming, something Rick Dove says he’ll never forget.

What was happening? Though Rick did not at first make a connection between his declining health and the growing number of sick and dying fish, it was all related. The problem, which wasn’t identified until 1995, was found to be Pfiesteria piscicida, a toxic microorganism, often referred to as the “cell from hell,” that is an extremely powerful neurotoxin. It paralyzes fish, sloughs their skin, and eats their blood cells. It is also volatized into the air and is capable of sickening humans who breathe it. How had it gotten to the Neuse? Primarily from nutrient pollution from the industrial hog farms.

“It was really an awful thing,” Rick said. “We didn’t expect this because, thanks a lot to the work of the local Riverkeeper, we had succeeded in removing 98 percent of point source pollutants, like industrial pipes. But in the 1980s, when the hog industry got going in North Carolina, everything changed very quickly, in a matter of just a few years. It was as if they were building cities of hogs. In a typical city, of course, you have to put in water and sewer lines and treatment plants, but even with 10 million hogs, that’s not how these operations work. The industry calls themselves farmers and hold on to so-called farming practices, but it doesn’t work that way. A lot of that fecal matter, full of antibiotics and pathogens, was going directly into the Neuse. It changed a lot of people’s lives.”

Rick Dove eventually was able to return to the water in 1993, this time as the Neuse Riverkeeper, where he continues the tradition of identifying and suing local polluters. Listening to Rick talk about his work is inspirational. Sixty-seven years old—a marine—he could have been doing almost anything else; he’d earned it. But his personal sense of responsibility and love for the river kept him on the job. “Semper Fi”—“Always Faithful”—the motto of the Marines, was his for life. His story conclusively demonstrates the connection between the choices we make and the health of our communities. Few of us likely give much consideration to how our everyday choices—such as the seemingly straightforward decisions we make at the grocery store to provide food for our families—may have an impact on people we will never meet, in places we may never visit.

It also shows us how connected we are as Americans. In recent times, particularly since the 2000 presidential election, we have generally bought into this idea of blue states and red states. But it takes people like Rick to remind us that, regardless of how we vote or which party we align ourselves with, we all share many very basic ideals. All of us certainly want clean water. No fisherman should be sickened by toxins in the water. No mother should worry that her child will become sick from swimming at the local beach. Nobody among us—young or old, farmer or artist, Democrat or Republican—should demand anything less than safe, available water. This is not a matter of politics; it is a matter of common sense, morality, and responsibility.