Scrolling through conversations about action to mitigate climate change, I came across the phrase "apocalypse fatigue."  Characters in comic books and DC/Marvel movies constantly rescue the world. The rest of us are trying to just live life. Facing another world-shaking challenge can bring a feeling of exhaustion.

I grew up with the threat of nuclear destruction. During the cold war as the US and USSR stockpiled nuclear missiles, there was enough fire power in bunkers to destroy the world several times over. And each time tensions between the super-powers ramped up, it felt like nuclear disaster might be just around the corner. If either country sent just one nuclear missile, the other side would retaliate, and the nuclear fallout would have been apocalyptic.

Those who told "after the nuclear war" stories helped us see how bad the consequences could be. People protested, pressing governments to find another way. Sanity prevailed. The exchange of nuclear missiles didn't happen. The political climate shifted.

There was talk of decommissioning all those inter-continental missiles. I know some of that took place, but I wonder how many are still their rusting in their bunkers. We stopped talking about it, as another crisis arrived.

Acid rain was killing maple trees and poisoning our lakes. In the eighties, factories were booming. Chemicals were pumped into the air to be brought back to earth as acid rain. Companies complained that it would cost too much to clean up their emissions, warned consumer prices would sky rocket if they were forced to. Wages would be cut. Scientists pointed to the loss that would occur if they didn't cut back on pollution.

The company my dad worked for was a major polluter with factories and steel refineries. I remember when they gave in and spent the money to put scrubbers on the smoke stacks. He proudly announced that they were even more efficient that expected, removing 98% of pollutants. Companies cleaned up emissions. Air quality improved. I have heard that there are places downwind of factories that are still worried about the ph level in rain, people that still spread lime in their maple forests, but either things have improved or we got tired of talking about acid rain.

Then there was a hole in the ozone layer. Radiation was hitting places like Australia hard, and if we didn't control the use of freon, the world would be in trouble.

Y2K was going to shut down every computer, every electrical system, everything.

The next year we came to fear that terrorism was going to destroy the world. The image of airplanes hitting skyscrapers is burned into our collective memory. Action was needed to cut off the reach of strong terrorist organizations.

But, perhaps because of the magnitude of the destruction, the reaction to 9/11 was confused. Iraq was invaded although that country had nothing to do with Al-Qaeda. Security was stepped up at airports. One person had an idea for a shoe bomb, and we all take off our shoes to go through the scanners. We can't carry quantities of liquids in carry-on luggage after one incident.

Most problematic was the way Islam as a whole was demonized. Even though a small group of people, with extreme anger and a skewed sense of their religion, organized 9/11, followed up with embassy attacks, continue to inspire violence, some people blame every Moslem and the whole religious tradition of Islam.

The threat of terrorism, even more than specific acts of violence, has done damage, fracturing our sense of wholeness in the world. We still live with the consequences of that fear.

And now there is the threat of climate chaos with the increasing level of carbon in the atmosphere. The potential disaster is real. The shifts have already increased storm intensity and changed rainfall patterns. Beira, Mozambique has been called the first city destroyed by climate change after cyclone Idai. Farming harder around the world, including here.

Each of those threats was and is real. Except perhaps Y2K--although computer experts worked hard to reprogram systems so they would not crash. As I look back at the predictions I've lived through, I understand a bit better those who roll their eyes when the threat of climate chaos is brought up.

Perhaps the story we need to tell is how the potential disasters were averted when the world's attention got focussed, and people pressed for change.   

Cathy Hird lives on the shore of Georgian Bay.