Ah, the smell of freshly made coffee in the morning… The reassuring drip of the coffee maker as it roasts our morning brew. The warmth of a coffee shop on a cold winter’s day.

But at what cost?

Now, I don’t mean the three to five dollars you fork out for a fancy single-origin latte with whipped cream and a flavor shot. And though there is a very real human cost of your coffee – (ask yourself – where did these beans come from? Who planted and tended to and harvested from them? Who wiped the sweat off their brow in a less developed, poorer nation to bring you your favored blend? And think about the statistic that for every 100 pounds of coffee cherries, you get only 20 pounds of coffee beans) – we won’t go into that much.

This is a sustainability course, and as such, I’d like you to consider the astounding impacts of your cup of coffee. It, of course, varies, depending on whether it’s free trade, what kind of container it is served to you in, whether you recycle your cup, and other such variables. Coffee is a global commodity that often is consumed in disposable cups, which introduce plastics and polyethylene into the environment when they are sent to the landfill.

You can read the full article from the Independent here, but I would like to highlight just one infographic embedded in the text:

There’s more bad news for everyone who enjoys a little caffeinated pick-me-up in the morning: According to Dr.  Sarada Krishnan in a 2017 paper on the sustainability of coffee, “Some of the threats contributing to the erosion of coffee genetic diversity include human population pressures, volatile coffee markets, and global climate change.”

That’s right – overpopulation and anthropogenic climate change are both factors which impact your cuppa. Coffee plants are, on the whole, losing genetic diversity.

All in all, it’s enough to make you think twice before you buy a hot, steaming cup of Joe.

Here in the Rockaways, we don’t have a lot of bike lanes on main streets and roads. It can be difficult to get around on bike or by foot, and public transit leaves a lot to be desired as well. However, head in the direction of the beach on a sunny day, and you’ll see pedestrians on the boardwalk, sunbathers, both the hardcore surfers who go out in any weather, and those who only come out when it’s nicer, and a relatively new feature of Rockaway’s revamped boardwalk – cyclists in their own special lanes.

At first glance, this might not seem related to sustainability. However, cycling is one of the most eco-friendly and sustainable forms of transportation at the time of this writing. Cities who incorporate bike lanes into their infrastructure, culture, and lifestyles can boast healthier citizens, fewer harmful emissions and a greener carbon footprint.

One such city is Copenhagen. If you go to Denmark’s official website, you can navigate to a page that explains the Danes’ love of cycling. According to a helpful info-box, “Danes cycle 1.6 km (~1 mile) a day on average” and there are “more than 12,000 kilometres (~7500 miles) of cycle routes in Denmark.” The conversions to mileage are my additions to the original text.

New York City can learn a lot from the example of Copenhagen and other cities where a culture of cycling has been established.

The picture you see above is of the sign that warns pedestrians to yield to cyclists in the two bike-only lanes, silhouetted by the setting sun. Everyone who lives here and frequents the boardwalk knows to be wary of the lane distinctions. So if you’re ever Down for the Day, just keep your eyes open for the people passing in the bike lanes.

Rainbow over Arverne by the Sea

I live in a coastal area in the furthest reaches of Queens, out towards Long Island, where life is slower and shoes are optional. It’s called Arverne By the Sea, and none of the houses you see in this photo were here just ten years ago.

This is an area that was ravaged by Sandy. Houses were flooded up to the roofs, people drowned in their own homes in certain areas, the boardwalk and a great many other structures were destroyed, a state of emergency was declared, and the entire area looked like a war had come and gone and left everything hollower, somehow.

I only moved here two years ago, but I remember driving up and down the roads of the Rockaways, gazing upon people who stared back, eyes dim, cheeks gaunt, faces ashen and grey. It was October, and all the trees which had not fallen stood bare, dying of the salt water, their hope slowly seeping back down into the ruined soils.

People rebuild. Perhaps it is folly, to build in a place so readily subject to the whims and caprices of the ocean. Perhaps it is arrogance, to assume that something like Sandy will not come again, and come with even greater fury. Perhaps it is ignorance, or perhaps it’s something primal within us that makes us see hope where there is so little to be found. We are thinking machines who crank out hope in the darkest of times. We’re resilient, so we rebuilt, and we live here, the dim specter of hurricanes past and future haunting us still, but we are brave, so we endure.

I thought this photo was of particular relevance for the above-named reasons. It resonates with hope. It is beautiful, and shows that while the future is uncertain, the present is to be cherished, the past remembered, and we were born to hope, and to dream of a brighter, better tomorrow, where there are rainbows by the shore. The sea might be rising, the world might be warming, and the warning claxons sound loud in the distance, but there is still world enough, and time, and hope is… Well, divine.