I had a moment of insight, I suppose, two years ago when I met an albatross on an island. Midway Island, known to those of you who follow wartime activities. This was a bird, an albatross sitting on her lone egg of the year, a Laysan albatross. And she was banded back in the 1950s. We know that she is at least 62 years old. She began to fly at about the same time that I was learning how to dive. And I thought about what that bird had seen in her lifetime and what I had seen in mine. She and her mate, they’d fly over literally thousands of miles of ocean. They’d do it in order to get food and mostly squid and small fish that they’d bring back to feed their hungry chick of the year, and of course themselves. But the changes in the ocean, more ships, more noise, more aircrafts overhead, fewer fish, fewer squid, all the stuff we’ve been putting in the ocean, clogging our life support system. You think somehow if you put things in the ocean, it goes away, but it doesn’t. It stays there. There is no “away” in the ocean. So plastic, especially, something that didn’t exist when I was a kid. I come from a pre-plastic-ezoic. And so, “Where is it going?” she may wonder. She certainly must recognize that the world has changed. She doesn’t know why, and even if she did know why, wouldn’t know what to do about it. Well, I am burdened with knowing. It’s one of those things that humans now know more than anyone could know even 50 years ago, let alone a thousand.