The Goldberg Variations: So Much for the Afterglow

ColumnA crackling fire makes my earth-friendly instincts go up in smoke.

Maybe it’s middle age, or maybe it’s just that I’ve become jaded, but the truth is, very few things surprise me these days. Of course, some things still surprise me: the fact that country music is the most popular radio format in the United States – that was a shocker. And the recent news that Donald Trump is considering a run for the presidency – I didn’t see that coming. But I was also surprised to learn that having a fire in my fireplace is environmentally incorrect – and I really shouldn’t have been.

How could I have failed to realize that smoke – any smoke –  is a respiratory irritant and a known pollutant? On the frequent occasions that my chimney has backed up, I have felt the smoke stinging my eyes and burning my lungs – I have watched my children and guests coughing and retching as they were overwhelmed by thick smoke from a malfunctioning flue. Did that seem like a healthy thing to me? Looking back on winter, I’m appalled at my cluelessness, because I actually thought having a fire in my house was a back-to-nature thing to do – practically organic in its old-time prairie appeal. A raging fire in my family room seemed somehow more eco-friendly than relying on an oil-burning furnace for warmth.

At least that’s what I thought, until The New York Times set me straight, pointing out in a recent article that every fire I made this past winter produced a micro-cloud of pollution, exposing my family and neighbors to a fluorocarbon output equal to roughly a pack and a half of Newport Lights. Not to mention the tiny particles that everyone but me has always had the good sense to consider a health hazard. The American Lung Association has gone so far as to recommend that  consumers avoid wood-burning fires altogether, citing research that names wood stoves and fireplaces as major contributors to particulate-matter air pollution in much of the United States.

How did I not know this, or rather, acknowledge this? To my exceedingly slight credit, I did, at least, cut back on fires this past winter, saving them for really special occasions, like the Super Bowl, or snowstorms, or a cup of hot chocolate on a chilly afternoon. The sad fact is, I simply don’t have the willpower to completely give up that lovely woodsy smell and the single most flattering light a woman my age can be seen in.

Instead, I did what I do best: I stalled. I waited out the winter and let the arrival of spring turn my fire habit into a happy non-issue. This is, to be sure, a passive and not particularly admirable way to right my environmental wrongs. It does not make me look very good, so I comfort myself with the knowledge that my friends are equally flawed when it comes to the environment. There is my friend Dorothy, who spends each winter turning up the thermostat, while simultaneously opening her windows “to maintain a perfect lizard-like body temperature while still enjoying fresh air.” Then there is my friend Eileen, who will admit to having a couple of drinks to lessen her guilt when throwing out cans.

I can’t speak for my friends, but I have vowed to do better in the future – to be smarter, more responsible and more evolved. By next winter I plan to boycott my fireplace and make my house a smoke-free zone.

Cross my hearth and hope to die.

Editor’s Note: Susan Goldberg is a slightly lapsed treehugger. Although known to overuse paper products, she has the best of intentions – and a really small SUV. Catch her column, The Goldberg Variations, each week here at EcoSalon.

Image: snowball.team