Six year ago, I was reeling. Among other things, I was being pushed out of Earthjustice by unhappy board members, who thought they knew better (they didn’t, as it turned out – a topic for another time: there’s a story to be told about the ignorance and arrogance of the wealthy in the history of the American environmental movement).
I needed to not attend an upcoming Earthjustice board meeting, so I headed east that October for fundraising meetings and the bar mitzvah of my cousin’s son in West Hartford, the town where I was born. I decided to stop by the house I’d lived in til I was 8. I hadn’t been back there since my mother moved my brother Al and me to Great Neck, a suburb of New York City, so that she could get away and be closer to my grandfather.