Although our planet's the biggest thing on earth, it still needs a holiday. The good news is the day we set aside to honor and remember all the great thing this blue-green sphere does for us is right next to 4-20 Day, another hippy holiday.

Odd how that worked out.

Home Depot, today, was giving away compact fluorescent bulbs (one to a customer), but I couldn't justify driving there to get one. Maybe if I had a Hummer, or some car with air conditioning, it would have made sense, especially if I also needed to buy some of that Roundup stuff.

As it is, what I'm doing for Earth Day is watching Discovery Channel's Planet Earth. I can't wait to see how it ends.

I live a couple miles away from LAX, so it's no surprise that I'm an expert on all things aeronautical. In fact, for many years growing up, I'd answer the "What do you want to be when you grow up?" question with "An aeronautical engineer." By the time I could have understood what that entailed, of course, I'd given it up, but it sounded good at the time and cut off further discussions.

I, also, live about half a mile from the nearest railroad track, so I can be considered an expert on rail as well. The track isn't used any more, I don't think, but when we were kids my sister and I found a rusted can near the tracks in a light industrial area and were convinced it was the markings of a hobo camp. We'd venture there only with the family dog for protection.

I'm much closer, of course, to paved roadways, cementing my expertise on that as well. And it goes without saying that what I'm closest to, chairs and beds, are things I also know quite a bit about.

Every day guarantees a few things. One, I'll hear and see planes approach the airport, and, two, I'll read about global climate change and environmentalism on the Internet. What I don't see written about very often is that humans all want to live in the biggest house possible in the nicest spot on earth.

Where we differ, thankfully, is on what constitutes the nicest spot on earth.

The Unabomber and a handful of others lived quite simply (the word austere comes to mind), but not very many others want to do that. I think that's a shame. This planet could support six billion people living in tiny dwellings about the size of our current bedrooms much better than it can answer all our desires to live in huge places that require lots of maintenance and eat up even more resources.

We all want nice things (or, nicer things, driven in part by advertisements), and I'm no exception. Just today, for example, I was eating some seedless green grapes, and I was feeling pretty good about myself. The grapes were larger than usual, about half the size of my thumb, and came from Chile. It's a testament to our smaller world that I can eat fruits grown thousands of miles away, and it also relieves me of the guilt I still associate with Cesar Chavez and the whole grapes boycott, but that relief didn't last long. I have no idea how many resources were spent in transporting those grapes to me, but I have a hunch it's a number I wouldn't like.

Should I be selfish and insist on having what I want, the way I want it, when huge freighters or airplanes are needed to bring it to me? Or, should I think of the planet and forego unseasonal foods, or ones grown the way I prefer, to get ones that can arrive in my mouth at a fraction of the expense?

I never got that degree in aeronautical engineering, so I have no idea how efficient air travel is. I do know more people are flying around than ever before, and the convenience of air travel makes business meetings a reality as never before. More people are flying on more pleasure trips than before, too, and I think that's because it's so easy. It's not as much fun any more, but it beats staying home or driving.

I heard, once, that rail travel is more efficient, but since it takes longer, no one chooses train rides any more. I consider that a shame. No, train travel isn't the adventure it was even twenty years ago, but it's easier on the planet (and, I'd say, on the passengers: nothing compares to the reassuring feeling of being trapped in a train car for what you know will be three days. No where to go, nothing to worry about, no say in anything until Tuesday afternoon).

Yet, because we treasure our own, personal needs so highly, we fly on unnecessary trips, demand huge homes, and eat grapes produced on farms we can't locate on maps. I have no idea what, exactly, the future will bring, but I predict more of the same.