I had the great misfortune not to be born and raised in Maine, proof positive that children should be consulted by their parents in deciding these important matters. Luckily, these omissions can be corrected in later life as soon as personal choice becomes an option.

At first, having moved from a crowded “away” state, I found Maine took some getting used to – the friendliness of people in general, the abundance of locally owned businesses, the appeal of main streets in so many small towns untouched by the suffocating presence of big-box stores, even the unexpected but simple pleasure of total strangers waving to each other as they pass by on a country lane.

Holiday season in Maine has always been festive, but when world events made it seem as if we were all afloat in the same small boat on a white-capped sea, our own personal homeport in the storm proved to be a very safe place, particularly as we weathered the latest tide of pandemic infections.

New Year’s 2022 also had a very different feeling, one of anxiety and uncertainty. While it used to be a time of fresh starts and new beginnings, it now seemed ominous as we masked up yet again and tried to make sense of what was happening while glaciers continued to melt, seas continued to rise, unusual weather became more commonplace. Changes are in the offing, and most don’t bode well.

It’s almost as if the USS E Pluribus Unum – our symbolic ship of state – had suffered a whole range of disasters, from running aground to being lost in a chartless sea. Some passengers are intent on substituting the Three Stooges for the captain and crew but without the expectation of laughs from the wheelhouse. Others have already abandoned ship, launched the lifeboats and are pulling for the shore. Their labor, however, is undermined by those who, instead of lending a hand on the oars, are busy drilling holes in the hull, thus helping to sink a vessel they should be working to save. In short, there is no unified effort, no coordinated plan, no common goal.

Humankind has faced crises like this before, though not nearly on the scale that confronts us now. For the first time in history – brought about by climate change and worldwide pandemics – we have the power to destroy not only our own species but also the entire globe and all those who live on it. Ultimately, it will become a simple question of a single alternative: Adapt or perish. We make the wrong choice at our peril.

Alas, history is not on our side. As archaeologist Douglas Preston has written in his book “The Lost City of the Monkey God,” about the discovery of a prehistoric city in an unexplored valley deep in the Honduran jungle:

“Sometimes a society can see its end approaching from afar and still not be able to adapt, like the Maya; at other times, the curtain drops without warning and the show is over. No civilization has survived forever. All move toward dissolution, one after the other, like waves of the sea falling upon the shore. None, including ours, is exempt from the universal fate.”

Unless we can save ourselves, we might be viewed one day as the Roman Empire of the 21st century. To avoid that fate, we’ll have to put aside our differences, replace confusion with cooperation, work toward solutions rather than creating obstacles and direct the full range of our diverse and awesome technological power toward consensus and solution. It can be done, but the clock is ticking, the tide is going out.

If we’re serious about helping Maine, our country and our world survive, then let “adapt” be the most important decision all of us can make, now and in the future.

Besides, I like it here and would like to stick around. I’ll bet you would, too.