I’m the Lone Ranger in a mask, cape, broad-brimmed hat and black cowboy boots, making my way with my dinner plate toward an Indian Woman, a witch, a Corsair and a Canadian Citizen. As I approach, their voices drop. The Indian Woman mutters “Kauai,” while the witch mumbles something about “three weeks in Mexico.” As I settle in among my friends, the topic quickly changes.

I find it socially awkward to have taken a stance on flying. I’ve always loved to hear about my friends’ anticipation of trips, to see their pictures and hear about their adventures when they get home. Got a slide show? Count me in!

Now, I’m torn. While I want to share my friends’ joys and pleasures and learn about other cultures in this personal way, I know that as a society, we can’t afford the emissions produced by flying. And I know that, on an individual level, one flight to Europe wipes out years of new light bulbs, public transit, and electric biking.

As I sit among my costumed friends talking about Other Things, I have a view into the kitchen where my partner, a beekeeper, is holding forth to a devil, an angel and some earth spirits (we have lots of those on Cortes) about the increasingly gloomy projections by the International Panel on Climate Change. I contemplate how people appear hungry for this information, yet they don’t seem to take it personally. I wonder if a look at Barry’s chart comparing carbon emissions of single flights to national per capita averages (see above and below) would have a more motivating effect.

Meanwhile, I’m stumped by how to maintain my honesty while keeping the peace with my flying friends. What do I say to my well-informed scientist friend when she announces a new job that will provide broader professional and social horizons but also requires her to maintain two house holds in distant cities and fly weekly to be with her family? Or to half the people I know, who are all flying to Mexico, like I would have three years ago? Or when an unsuspecting but highly valued new friend asks me about my winter travel plans then tells me about her trips to Mexico and Florida?

Add to this awkwardness the fact that, over my life time, I’ve flown more than most people I know. It wasn’t that long ago that I was showing friends my sketch journal of Europe. It's not like I can ever have moral high ground in terms of lifetime carbon emissions.

But these days I feel like air travel is a real live bad guy, and lots of nice folks are getting duped. It’s like being the Lone Ranger at the dinner table with a nice family of ranchers who don’t realize that the new hired hand, a friendly guy and great worker, is in fact a dangerous outlaw. Haven't they seen the "Most Wanted" posters?

That reminds me, I am the Lone Ranger. Or a Lone Ranger. So what should a Lone Ranger do? The Lone Ranger Creed states (really):

1. That all men are created equal and that everyone has within himself the power to make this a better world.
2. That God put the firewood there, but that every man must gather and light it himself.
3. In being prepared physically, mentally, and morally to fight when necessary for that which is right.
4. That a man should make the most of what equipment he has.
5. That men should live by the rule of what is best for the greatest number.
6. That sooner or later, somewhere, somehow, we must settle with the world and make payment for what we have taken.
7. That all things change but truth, and that truth alone, lives on forever.

Those seem like pretty good rules. I think my friends would agree with everything but the gender-exclusive pronouns and maybe the religious references. What happens when we apply these culturally ensconced precepts to the personal ethics of global warming? It might look like:

1. Individual carbon reduction matters.
2. Act, don’t wait for someone to do it for you.
3. Climate solutions require physical, mental and moral efforts.
4. Just do it now with what you’ve got.
5. Sustainable carbon levels, not personal preferences, are the guide.
6. We’ll experience individual consequences from our choices.
7. The earth is changing. Face the facts. Live ethically.

Whew. That’s intense.

Applying the Lone Ranger Creed to the specifics of climate change definitely makes me glad I traded in my plane for a horse. But how would the Lone Ranger tell the ranchers about their dangerous new farmhand, especially if he and they were all Canadian? He might not confront the bandit right there at the dinner table, but I bet he’d stick around and be ready with information or action as needed. And, in private, he’d do everything he could to get the bandit to turn himself in or be hauled away by the law.

Hi-yo, Silver! Away!