Transcript
A (0:00)
Foreign. I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the Slowdown. The phrase drill, baby, drill might sound familiar to you. Michael Steele, former Maryland lieutenant governor, proclaimed it at the 2008 Republican National Convention, Drill, baby, drill, showing his support for drilling for oil and gas in the United States despite the concerns of environmentalists. Drill, baby, drill became a Republican campaign slogan famously used by Sarah Palin and, more recently, Donald Trump. Trump used the phrase repeatedly during his 2024 presidential campaign and at his 2025 inaugural address. Today's poem, which looks at the fragility of our planet, begins with two epigraphs. One is from American astronomer Carl Sagan, from his book Pale Blue Dot. The other is the famous line from politician Michael Steele, Earth Shovel by Dan Albergatti look again at that dot. That's here. That's home. That's us. A moat of dust suspended in a sunbeam. The only home we've ever known. Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot, 1994. Drill, baby, drill. Michael Steele, 2008 Republican National Convention Photographed from 18,000 miles in 1972, Earth had the look of a marble, or so people said. Eighteen years later, we shot it again, this time from 3.7 billion miles, when Voyager 1, still traveling at 40,000 miles per hour, was nearly done with this solar system that occupies a tiny bit of real estate in the known universe. A dot is what we called it then, pale and blue, a pinprick that's difficult to make out against its black backdrop of void. Here we are on that dot, waving goodbye to Voyager 1, and that's that, I suppose. Now, 28 years later and five miles from home, huge Earth movers are clawing at the ground at a sight that's being prepped. When we ask what for, no one can tell us. The sound of the heavy machinery has already become a curtain of ambient noise, dropped over our days. When a moat of some black substance swirls in the light gray glass of water I pour from the sink, I shrug. The porch is covered in dust. I drive my car by the grace of plants and animals suspended in the Earth's crust for a hundred million years, cooked in a sort of clay pot by pressure and heat. But that's about to be a chapter of the past 50 or 60 years at most. By then, a sunbeam will power our cars and hover bikes, or simply fall on our ashes. The thing about the universe is that it seems infinite, but really it's only a ceaseless series of extinctions. I think about that on the drive home. Over 5 billion species have been here, 99.9% are gone. We've been here about an hour on Sagan's Cosmic Calendar. Have you ever thought about that? Last week a guy at the bar said, I ain't known about none of that. All I knows we'll have plenty of oil if we just drill down deep enough. Today two friends showed me their new baby. They were happy, as if they expect a world for her. This is not a drill. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. Find us on instagram slowdownshow and blueskylowdownshow.org. Hi, it's Maggie. Thanks for listening to the Slowdown. Whether you press play to find calm or vivid inspiration, we're glad you're here. As a public media podcast, we rely on listener support to share these moments of poetry. Please consider donating today@slowdownshow.org donate.
