Would you like a side of plastic with your fish?

J.Wong-Ala_picContributed by Jennifer Wong-Ala

The aroma of freshly defrosted Alepisaurus ferox (Longnose Lancetfish)  stomach begins to fill the lab as I place my first stomach of the day on the dissection tray. I look at the unopened stomach and begin to see an odd shaped object protruding from the inside. I make my first cut to expose the stomach contents and see the culprit responsible. A white piece of plastic that closely resembles the material paint buckets are made of emerges along with a degraded piece of a black trash bag intertwined with fishing wire. I begin to shake my head and continue to document the rest the of stomach contents.

Plastic pollution has been known to affect large, much-adored marine animals such as sea turtles, monk seals and seabirds. These animals can be strangled, suffocated, or even killed when they ingest plastic debris. Even microscopic organisms such as copepods have been seen to eat microplastics because they closely resemble phytoplankton – microscopic plants in the ocean. Now teams of scientist from the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute (MBARI) and the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa (UHM) are finding more trash at deeper depths (2000 – 4000 m), where commercially important fish are mistaking plastic debris as food.

But how does plastic even get that deep in the ocean? Aren’t most plastic debris buoyant and stay on the surface? Scientists at MBARI analyzed 1149 video recordings of marine debris from 22 years, looking at videos from remotely operate vehicles (ROVs) in the Monterey Canyon, and found that the largest proportion of the debris observed in the videos was plastic (33%) and metal (23%). Plastic debris was most abundant in undersea canyons at depths of 2000 to 4000 meters. It is thought to have reached those depths by these canyons’ natural sediment transport processes, which exert forces great enough to carry research equipment to the bottoms of these canyons.

Plastic debris can also be passed through the food web in the ocean when deep-sea animals eat other organisms that can live at many depths. For example, plastic debris has been found in the stomachs of the lancetfish which occupy a broad depth range  (0 to 1,000 meters). Lancetfish have been found to ingest plastic from the surface and then travel to deeper depths where it becomes prey to other species such as Opah, Albacore and Yellowfin tuna. The plastic from the Lancetfish has now been passed through the food web and potentially to our dinner plates.

lancetfish

Lancetfish habitat extends to depths where plastic accumulates.

Big steps are already being made in regards to one type of plastic debris called microbeads. This year President Obama signed the Microbead-Free Waters Act of 2015 that will ban the use and sale of products containing microbeads by 2018 and 2019. This was a big step in making a positive impact for our environment, but there is so much more to do.

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The author working in the field

Jennifer Wong-Ala transferred from Kapi‘olani Community College to the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa (UHM) in Fall 2015 as a Junior in the Global Environmental Science Program. She is a NOAA Hollings Scholar, C-MORE Scholar in Dr. Neuheimer’s Lab, Laboratory Technician in Dr. Drazen’s Lab, and is also part of the SOEST Maile Mentoring Bridge. Jenn is interested in computer modeling/analysis of how ocean processes interact with organisms in the ocean and how to best preserve these natural resources. In the future she plans to bring these skills and interests together to conserve marine life in Hawaii. This post was originally written for OCN 320 (Aquatic Pollution), a writing intensive requirement for the GES major.           

Inspiring community college students to pursue a career in ocean and earth sciences

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Contributed by Johanna Wren

Ever wonder what questions community college STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics) students ask when taken on a tour of a research vessel?

“Are all beds the same size?”, posed a five-foot tall student standing next to a 6-foot fellow student, as they inspected the state rooms in the R/V Ka‘imikai-O-Kanaloa.

Or, one of my personal favorites: “Can I drive the boat!?”

Each summer, a score of Kapi‘olani Community College (KCC) students meet every day for six weeks to immerse themselves in math and other STEM subjects as part of the KCC STEM Summer Bridge program, HāKilo II. For the past three summers, C-MORE and SOEST from the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa have been invited to spend one week with these students, introducing them to ocean and earth science careers through hands-on experiences.

HāKilo II students on a field trip to R/V KOK at Snug Harbor. Photo credit: Heidi Needham.

HāKilo II students on a field trip to R/V KOK at Snug Harbor. Photo credit: Heidi Needham.

The theme throughout the week is Learning by Doing, so we embark on field trips, engage in career exercises, and interact with graduate students and professionals in STEM fields. Our goal is to help the students discover their passions, and urge them to follow those passions in their professional careers. I first got involved with HaKilo II’s SOEST week as a graduate research assistant with the C-MORE Education office in 2013. I have since helped to organize and lead the event each summer, as the intensive week of career exploration has become one of my favorite summer events.

Learning By Doing: Field trips!

“Bet you didn’t know you got a mouthful of critters every time you get in the ocean!” said peer-mentor Dan to a student while looking at what they caught in a plankton tow.

Learning by Doing is done best outside of a classroom, so we take the students on multiple fieldtrips. For example, during these field trips, students figure out how the Hawaiian Islands were formed, and why hillsides and surrounding ocean look the way they do. Seeing first hand – and trying to figure out why – there is coral wedged between layers of basalt high above sea level, turns sea level rise from an abstract concept into a tangible one. Learning by doing, seeing and feeling is so much more powerful than being told how the world works.

Student and instructor during a geology field trip, talking about the formation of O‘ahu and sea level change at Lāna‘i lookout. Photo credit: Johanna Wren

Student and instructor during a geology field trip, talking about the formation of O‘ahu and sea level change at Lāna‘i lookout. Photo credit: Johanna Wren

Even though we have visited some of the same sites every year, there are always new things to discover, and students never fail to impress and surprise me with their curiosity and insightfulness. I really enjoy showing students what lives in the clear and seemingly empty waters near the beach. After conducting a plankton tow, while looking at the copepods and other animals in the water, students often wonder if they swallow all of those animals when they go swimming. It’s really nice to see even the most intractable student, who wouldn’t part from her smartphone for more than a minute, get excited about the land and sea around her.

Learning By Doing: Experience as a near-peer mentor

“Let’s ask Daren, he knows everything.” – A commonly overheard statement by a group of students when they ran into a problem they couldn’t solve.

Spending a summer studying subjects that often take students outside of their comfort zone can be intimidating and scary to many. At the same time, there is nothing more inspiring than connecting with an individual you identify with, who shares your background or interest. This is where the near-peer mentors like Dan and Daren come in. Each year, a handful of senior KCC students, many of whom participated in HāKilo II in previous years, act as peer-mentors and play a pivotal role in inspiring and engaging students. Students can identify with a mentor who went through the program just last year, and who comes from a similar cultural and/or academic background. The students are less reserved with their questions, and the peer-mentors themselves develop into teachers with enthusiasm and confidence.

Students in HāKilo II learning about seagliders, and how to combine an interest in engineering with a love for the ocean, from Sarah Searson. Photo credit: Johanna Wren

Students in HāKilo II learning about seagliders, and how to combine an interest in engineering with a love for the ocean, from Sarah Searson, a sea-going marine technician. Photo credit: Johanna Wren

I especially like witnessing the progression from student one year to peer-mentor the following year. Watching them go from shy and unsure students to outgoing, empowered, and confident in their new role as peer-mentor is motivating. And what I always find remarkable is how humble the peer-mentors are: they all have an ‘if I can do it, you can do it’ attitude. Peer-mentors take on the roles of a leader, educator, and mentor, and they not only inspire the students, they inspire me as well.

Learning by Doing: Networking with people paid to pursue their passion

“Man, that’s the closest I’ve been to an astronaut!” said one student after talking to a geology professor working on the Curiosity Mission with NASA.

Instead of reciting statistics and course requirements, which often become overwhelming, we introduce the students to career professionals in a variety of fields, from surf forecasters to ocean engineers. Students “talk story” with 20 different professionals, hearing – and often seeing – firsthand what that career entails and what kind of education they need to get there.

HāKilo II students talking with a career professional, Kimball Millikan, about wave buoys and ocean engineering. Photo credit: Johanna Wren.

HāKilo II students talking with a career professional, Kimball Millikan, about wave buoys and ocean engineering. Photo credit: Johanna Wren.

Once students realize that many of the professionals they talked to get paid to surf, dive or hike (common hobbies among the students), their enthusiasm skyrockets. The type of questions they ask changes from general (e.g. “What kind of degree do you have?”) to specific (e.g. “What subject would you recommend that I focus on to get your job?”). The dedication that the professionals show not only to their profession but also to sharing their passion with young scientists is profound. At the end of the week, we ask the professionals to give one take home message to the students, and it is universally: “You work too much not to love what you do.”

The best part about this program for me each year is when students discover that their interests don’t have to stay hobbies, but that they can become their careers. A few weeks ago, I ran into one of the students who participated in HāKilo II two years ago and was a peer-mentor last year. When I first met her in 2013 she intended to major in Nursing. Since then, she has changed her focus, transferred to UH Mānoa’s Dept. of Oceanography Global Environmental Sciences program, and participated in marine biology and oceanography summer research experiences both in the U.S. and abroad. She is a true inspiration and role model, and I’m so honored to have had a small part in helping her find her passion.


Johanna Wren is a PhD candidate in the Department of Oceanography in the Toonen-Bowen (ToBo) Lab at Hawai‘i Institute of Marine Biology (HIMB) at the University of Hawai‘i at Mānoa. Her research focuses on larval dispersal and population connectivity of reef fish using a biophysical modeling approach. She is interested in identifying biophysical drivers around the Hawaiian Islands that shape the connectivity patterns seen in reef fish communities today.

 

What drives me to be a scientist?: Impacting society through science

“Originally, I was driven by the type of job that I didn’t want to have, but am now driven by the potential impact that I can have while solving marine environmental problems.”

Read on to find out more about what led Stu to his career!

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Contributed by Stuart Goldberg

If you put a label on me, I am a microbial oceanographer. I study the function of microscopic bacteria and phytoplankton in marine food webs. I do so because these organisms support healthy ecosystems and fisheries by transferring energy and nutrients to organisms at higher levels of the food chain. But how did I get to studying microbes in the ocean? Well, thinking back, what drives me to be a scientist has changed over the years. Originally, I was driven by the type of job that I didn’t want to have, but am now driven by the potential impact that I can have while solving marine environmental problems.

One of the first jobs I had was working for Pepsi Cola of the Hudson Valley, NY during summers and holiday breaks in high school and college. My co-workers were great – their good-natured humor help to make the days more enjoyable – but it was back-breaking work. Every day, I went to supermarket after supermarket, stocking shelves with soda and building gigantic soda displays, like the pyramids you regularly see. It was also tough to earn respect from store managers that I interacted with because I was so young. This wasn’t where I wanted to be, or end up.

Once I started college at the University of Maine, I pursued a degree that would help me find a job working outside, preferably on environmental issues. I started freshman year as a forestry major with the hopes of working on conserving New England’s forests for future generations. I quickly discovered that the majority of UMaine forestry graduates went on to work in the paper industry. What really turned me off to this career path was that the paper industry contributes significantly to air and water pollution. Every day, paper mills emit tons of gases into the air, causing acid rain and global warming. They also have discharged pollutants into freshwater ecosystems that can bioaccumulate in fish, contributing to some of the state-issued consumption warnings due to possible health side effects. Although there were other forest conservation career opportunities working for state and federal agencies, I felt the urge to change majors to marine science to live a life near the ocean studying how its processes support our lives.

Being by the sea had always provided a sense of comfort and ease while growing up, so the idea of a career on the water or understanding more about marine ecosystems was enticing. Fortunately, UMaine had just initiated an undergraduate major in marine science. After learning about ocean food web dynamics and nutrient upwelling in my first oceanography class, I knew that this topic area was the right fit because I was very interested in how nutrients are recycled to support productive ecosystems and fisheries. From there, it was up to me to discover a career path in this field. I embarked on undergraduate research experiences in Maine and Bermuda, and eventually began graduate school at UC Santa Barbara where I earned my PhD studying the marine carbon cycle. Soon thereafter, I moved on to post-graduate school research studying a variety of topics including aquatic nutrient cycling and ocean acidification. At this point in my career, I was motivated by the desire to eventually become a professor. As time went by, however, my career interests began to change. I wasn’t enjoying the long hours writing grants and papers, or staying up late at night working in the lab, and a change was needed.

A few years after earning my PhD, my spouse accepted a marine policy fellowship in Washington D.C. I was looking forward to a fresh start in a new place, but I would have to eventually find a job. Although being unemployed for a few months was stressful, it was during this time that I found new motivation for being a scientist at an unexpected event. Every year, the nation’s shellfish farmers come to D.C. to talk to their congressional representatives about their relevant concerns, some of which are focused on things that can improve the productivity of their farms and shellfish sales. For example, the proper training and equipment to monitor changes in salinity, temperature, and ocean acidity can help prevent juvenile oysters from dying, thus enhancing harvests and profitability. On the last evening of their visit, I was invited to an elegant party that was hosted by U.S. shellfish growers associations from around the country. While mingling, I began a conversation with a shellfish farmer from Northern California. Upon hearing about my background in oceanography and ocean acidification, he asked if I could help him predict upwelling events that would bring acidic waters over his oysters. Acidic seawater is harmful to juvenile oysters because it kills them by dissolving their shells. In this instance, I realized that my scientific skills and expertise could be used to help solve real-world problems while informing decisions about marine natural resources.

My newfound drive to work on applied scientific problems to assist everyday people helped me to land a policy fellowship at a non-profit in D.C. My first task was to build trust and collaborations with shellfish farmers, and then talk to federal agency leaders and congressional representatives about ways to help these farmers adapt to the negative impacts of ocean acidification on their shellfish harvests. As a policy fellow, I began to network with other ocean non-profits to advocate to congress and federal agencies on behalf of U.S. shellfish farmers for more resources to purchase and implement ocean acidification monitoring instrumentation at oyster hatcheries. As part of this outreach effort, I organized, facilitated and led a stakeholder meeting between ~20 shellfish farmers from all over the U.S. and representatives from the USDA to provide a forum for farmers to clearly state their concerns about ocean acidification’s impacts on their industry, including discussion about what that the agency could do to assist them in adapting to these changes in ocean chemistry. One of the shellfish farmers and I also met with his congressional district representative from Oregon and her staff to further discuss these issues. The experience as a fellow helped me learn how to better translate my scientific knowledge to a variety of audiences and has helped me become a more confident scientist and person.

Whereas I was initially driven by the type of career that I didn’t want, I now realized that there are endless opportunities for scientists to make an impact on society by learning to use our expertise to help solve real-world environmental problems. In the future, I see my career moving along this trajectory.


Stuart Goldberg is a postdoctoral scholar in the Nelson lab at the Department of Oceanography at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. His research examines the role that microbes play in recycling nutrients in marine and aquatic environments. Recently, he has become more interested in the cycling of nutrients in coral reef and coastal environments. 

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Why did I become an ecologist?

gold-medal-conCongratulations to Carolyn Faithfull for being the winner of our 1st SOESTblog Writing Contest “What drives you?”! Thank you to all of the readers and supporters of SOESTblog and congrats to everyone who entered our contest!

 


 

C FaithfullContributed by Carolyn Faithfull

I grew up next to a lake. You could always feel its presence, even though you couldn’t see it from our house. It made our farm the wettest in the district, miring us down in cattle-churned mud in the winter. Flocks of swans would fly towards it, flapping, honking and pooping. And in summer you could smell it, an occasional waft of rotten lettuce on the hay-filled breeze.

As you may have guessed, rotten lettuce is not the aroma of a healthy lake. Nope, this lake was big and shallow and totally unable to deal with the excess fertiliser being drip-fed from the surrounding farms. A regular pattern started occurring. It began with the stealthy overtaking of the entire lake by oxygen weed. Previously the weed had been safely far below us in our little boat. But by the end of the summer, rowing our little boat was like trying to row through a wet meadow. The lake was so clogged that on windy days it still looked calm, the water barely able to move between the thick weedy fronds. The swans loved it. Hundreds and then thousands came, honking and flapping and pooping.

Then the weed died. Choked by its own abundance, massive rolls of weed washed up, burying the swan nests and forming a stinking border around the lake edge. Free from the weed, the shallow sediments coloured the lake brown. Not for long though. The next summer the lake became a sickly green soup. We were not allowed to swim. Not that you would want to. The algal bloom became so dense that bacteria consuming the dead algal cells used up the oxygen in the water. Dead fish and mussels floated to the shore. The swans left. But, oxygen weed is a very hardy plant. It is an invasive species, and the small remaining fragments were slowly covering the bottom under the algal soup. Gradually, sediments were stabilized, the water became clearer and nutrients were absorbed by the rapidly growing weed.

My 14-year-old self wondered what was wrong: as the density of swans built up again, so did the oxygen weed – so was it the swans’ fault? Did all that pooping make the oxygen weed crash and the algae grow? My science fair project that year was particularly involved: I examined the effects of swan poop on algae in two types of jars, with and without oxygen weed.

Although somewhat misguided, the science fair project reflected something about me: I wanted to know. I knew the cycles happening to the lake were not how a healthy lake behaved and I wanted to know why.

Now I know that the flipping between weed and turbid algal-dominated states I observed in the lake is common in New Zealand. “Flipping” has been observed in 37 lakes and is associated with both the presence of oxygen weed and high farming pressure in the catchment area.

With my science fair project, I had wanted to know what was causing the flipping, but I also wanted to fix the lake. I remembered Grandpa’s stories about catching 70-pound eels and jet boat races; I wanted the lake to be like it once was, safe enough to drink, clean enough to swim in. Perhaps subconsciously I also knew it was partly my family’s fault, and I felt responsible for the mess we had helped create.

A calm early morning beside the lake. This picture was taken in 2003 before native plants were planted along the edge.

A calm early morning beside the lake. This picture was taken in 2003 before native plants were planted along the edge.

Last year, my family, several other landowners and a horde of volunteers, planted native plants around the edge of the lake. Wetland restoration is underway and farmers have been given advice on how to manage fertiliser application to reduce nutrient runoff. The future of the lake is starting to look a little bit clearer. Who knows, perhaps one day I will swim to the other side. I will have to watch out for those 70-pound eels though.

So I confess, I didn’t become an aquatic ecologist because I wanted to swim with dolphins, explore the arctic tundra or investigate the deepest trenches of the oceans (although those are all nice perks). My desire to know the how, what and why of things that lie beneath the water’s surface was inspired by a smelly, unstable, fascinating lake.

 

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Carolyn Faithfull is a postdoctoral scholar in the Goetze lab at the Department of Oceanography at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. Her research involves examining how tiny aquatic critters respond to different types of stress in their environment, such as excess nutrients, less light, or higher temperatures. Recently she has been very interested in what these tiny aquatic critters have for breakfast. Are they eating the equivalent of cornflakes every day, or a fruit bowl? The answer might just lie in a future blog post.

 

 

Inspiring future discoveries and changing the world

Here is our second entry of our 1st SOESTblog Writing Contest “What drives you?”! Each week, contestants will share what drives them to do their research day in and day out. Each article will be posted for 1 week and winners will be determined by the most # of reads on the site! Help Michelle this week by sharing her article!

 

Screen Shot 2015-04-10 at 9.28.17 AMContributed by Michelle Jungbluth

 

What is it that scientists really do? And what drives them to do it?

The life of a scientist is not as straightforward as you might think. To the left is a list of 18 things I am expected to do as a graduate student scientist— in addition to the necessary daily human activities such as grocery shopping, maintaining personal relationships, and keeping my apartment clean.

Given that outrageous list, I sometimes feel that there aren’t enough hours in the day  So what keeps me going?

By being endlessly curious!

I love being out on the waves, feeling the sets roll in, seeing the blue-green of the water. What makes it even better is to know what caused those waves and what shapes them, how the smell and color of the sea is related to recent rainfall in the area, that the little moving specks in the water are actually living, breathing plankton that fuel healthy ocean ecosystems.

I would not be happy working in the office all day, every day, crunching numbers or making phone calls. I would not be fulfilled as a veterinarian, neutering animals half of the week and seeing sick animals the other half of the week. I would not be satisfied working with laboratory animals, born to a life in a cage living far from their natural habitats. I know these things because I have experience with them and decided that I wanted more. It is only through experience that you can truly decide if a career path is right for you, and I am thankful, and have deep respect for everyone who has been a part of these prior experiences.

The moment I decided to move to Hawaii with my scientist husband, Sean Jungbluth was life-changing. That is when I discovered my love for oceanography (and copepods!). Some of what drives me is the diversity in that long list of responsibilities I just gave. The inherent challenges in that list keep me feeling fulfilled, most of the time.

The less tangible outcomes of my work are also what drive me to keep at it. As a scientist, the work I do now and in the future could impact the world in so many ways:

  • Inspire future generations to be scientists; despite that long list of challenging work, my science includes a lot of fun; sometimes I get to cross the equator on a British Antarctic icebreaker, and chase storms for my research
  • Be the basis for future discoveries!
  • I could, if I’m very lucky and work hard enough, make a discovery that illuminates or changes our relationship to the world around us!

When I feel discouraged, or when an experiment does not go as planned, these are the things that inspire me to push onward.

Me at the 2013 SOEST Open House, where I helped create an exhibit teaching schoolchildren and families about zooplankton, hoping to inspire future generations!

Me at the 2013 SOEST Open House, where I helped create an exhibit teaching schoolchildren and families about zooplankton, hoping to inspire future generations!

I am thankful for the hundreds of people who have been my teachers or mentors throughout my life so far. From my parents and grandparents, to all my teachers in the 20+ years of K-12, college, and graduate education, my employers over the years, and the past and present scientists who inspire me. It is due to your inspiration that I am driven to be who I am, and do what I do every day.

 

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Michelle Jungbluth is a PhD candidate in the Department of Oceanography at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. She uses traditional and novel molecular techniques to study plankton food web interactions and the importance of highly abundant larval copepods in marine ecosystems. She is also a co-founder of the Science Communicators ‘Ohana and a Teaching Assistant for Introductory Oceanography OCN 201 at UH Manoa.

 

What drives me: Giving more, taking less

Here is the first entry of our 1st SOESTblog Writing Contest “What drives you?”! Each week, contestants will share what drives them to do their research day in and day out. Each article will be posted for 1 week and winners will be determined by the most # of reads on the site! Help Chantel this week by sharing her article!

 

FaceCrop_CChangContributed by Chantel Chang

I remind myself daily about why I subject myself to the challenges of graduate school (e.g., lack of sleep, free time, and money, feelings of incompetence, etc.) in order to answer questions from myself and others like, “Why am I back in school at the age of 30 while most of my peers own homes, are starting families, and get free weekends?”

The initial driver was that I knew what I did not want. I could not stand to stay in my previous career as an occupational therapist because it was missing something for me on a personal level. I believe everyone has a natural strength – a gift, and I recognized from grade school that mine was in mathematics and analysis. Today I realize how important it is for me to use mathematics, and to keep learning and growing. I chose to study oceanography because of the complexity and dynamic nature of the ocean. With an interest in biophysical modeling, I create computer models to assist with answering questions like, “What are the major physical, biological, and behavioral drivers that impact genetic or larval connectivity in the ocean?” Or “How might computer models be used to assess and improve placement of marine protected area boundaries?” I could study oceanography for a lifetime and still have more questions.

However, my primary driver goes beyond mathematics and my interests. My primary driver is that I strive to give back to Hawai‘i. As a fifth generation child of Hawai‘i, my favorite memories were of surfing and bodyboarding with my family in the crystal-clear blue ocean, while taking lunch breaks to feast on spam musubi and Hawaiian Sun juice. I’ve fished for ‘ahi and mahimahi, snorkeled and dove the Hawaiian coral reefs, and hiked the tall mountains of O‘ahu. Hawai‘i has provided a tremendously beautiful home and I hope to give back to the islands more than what has been given to me. I hope that many future generations will be able to enjoy Hawai‘i as I have. I’m not quite sure of what my specific contribution will be, but I believe that a deeper understanding of the ocean and environment is a good starting point.

During those moments of exhaustion, which are common in graduate school, I remind myself of how lucky I am to be allowed to live here in Hawai‘i of all the places in the world (less than 1%, about 2 in 10,000 people in the current world population, live in Hawai‘i) and to be in a situation where I am able to return to school for a career change. I focus on what I am grateful for, the give-take relationship between the land and humans, and I realize that the stresses of graduate school are temporary and trivial compared to those that Hawai‘i is under. Imagine the burden of Hawai‘i – the rise of industrialization, an increasing population and pollution have put tremendous stress on the islands, corals and marine life over the years. It’s common to hear stories of the ‘old days’ from my father’s generation when fish were plentiful and marine life was thriving. But now, “there’s not as many fish” in those same places where they used to be abundant. Even in my lifetime, I can remember what it was like to see open land instead of condominium upon condominium.

With everything back in perspective, I continue on with a renewed spirit and the mantra “give more, take less.” What can I do for Hawai‘i?

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