My forecast for this column is “partly sunny.”
Talking about the weather is considered, by some, a waste of time. “Everybody talks about the weather,” they say, half-kidding, “but nobody does anything about it!” I get that, but I still talk about weather — when it’s worth talking about.
Around these parts, the weather is usually partly sunny, which means it’s also partly cloudy. Occasionally it’s entirely sunny. More often it’s entirely cloudy. Sometimes it’s mostly sunny or mostly cloudy, but mostly it’s a mix — partly sunnycloudy, roughly a 50/50 proposition.
For some reason, however, weather forecasters almost exclusively use the term “partly cloudy.” Weather forecasting may be as useless as talking about the weather, but we are deeply attached to the daily prediction so we have a rough idea of what to expect and what coat to put on (if any). The forecasts are … fallible, but if they’re going to err, I suppose they think, why not err on the downside and let people be pleasantly surprised? So they say “partly cloudy,” accentuating the negative. But that conditions us to expect the worse.
Conventional wisdom advises us to “hope for the best but prepare for the worst.” But I can’t help thinking we end up overlooking the best because we’re too busy preparing for worst-case scenarios.
It’s like the old water-glass riddle. Half-empty or half-full? Are you a pessimist or an optimist? The real answer is, “It’s both,” but as a society, we lean toward “either/or” instead of “both/and.” Both/and is unifying. Either/or is polarizing. We live in a very either/or country.
Same with weather. Are you a “partly cloudy” or “partly sunny” person (or both)? I opt for “partly sunny” because I’d rather prepare for the best and deal with my disappointment (I’ve had a lot of practice at this). Partly sunny sounds far more hopeful. Besides, living in the northern Midwest, no one is surprised if it turns out to be cloudy (or worse).
When people in the Arizona desert hear “partly cloudy,” they probably celebrate in the streets. In Ireland, the forecast is always partly sunny, partly cloudy, mostly sunny, mostly cloudy, entirely sunny, entirely cloudy, plenty of rain and plenty of sunshine. And that’s the first half-hour. In Ireland, they don’t prepare for the best or the worst. In 15 minutes it will change anyway.
Our attitude toward weather says a lot about us, even though we don’t do anything about it. Except we did do something about the weather: Climate Change! Now we really do have to prepare for the worst because it’s coming. It’s definitely coming — unless, of course, we do something about climate change. Which is one really good reason to celebrate Earth Day, every day.
Speaking of doing something, when people talk about a person they admire, they often describe him\her\they as a person who “walks the walk.” What they really mean is “walks the talk.” The phrase goes back to the 1920s: “You can’t talk the talk unless you walk the walk.”
By the 1970s, that was abbreviated to “walk the talk,” which makes sense, whereas “walk the walk,” on its own, does not. It’s redundant and meaningless. “Walk the talk,” on the other hand (or on the other foot), moves talk from the realm of mere words and brings it into the realm of meaningful action. No one wants to be labeled “all talk, no action.” So to be more than mere talk, we have to walk the talk.
Martin Luther King Jr. walked the talk. So did John Lewis, Rachel Carson, Greta Thunberg, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Jane Goodall, the crew of Artemis II, and anyone whose actions speak as loud as their words.
Given the powerful influence of repeated misuse on the English language, it may be too late to rescue this phrase, but I still use “walk the talk” because talk is not just talk. It is also an action and, depending on what is said and when, talk can be a courageous act.
Especially in these times.
But you have to have something worth talking about before you can “walk” it. Donald Trump walks the walk — with no forethought and nothing worth saying. That’s a forecast for catastrophe, as we’re seeing right now.
And thanks to the current catastrophe, our collective forecast for the future is partly sunny, with occasional climate-change deluges, and perhaps a tornado or two leaving swaths of devastation behind, yet ultimately giving way to hopeful, cloudless skies — but only if we find a way to walk the talk this November.
And if that forecast holds true, our glass will be transformed from half-empty to half-full.
Happy Earth Day. It is a lovely planet, don’t you think?