Just before I went on the air on Oct. 7, the National Hurricane Center declared that Hurricane Milton had become a Category 5 monster. When I saw the barometric pressure numbers reported by a hurricane hunter aircraft, I did a double take.
The anchor introduced me, and then it was my turn to speak. I clenched my eyes. “It is an incredible, incredible, incredible hurricane. It has dropped,” I said, my voice quivering, “50 millibars in 10 hours!” I knew it meant it was going to continue growing in strength, and rival some of the strongest hurricanes ever recorded. I paused, lowered my head and apologized for losing my composure.
“This is just horrific,” I said.
The unplanned moment went viral. From Gen Z on TikTok to boomers on Facebook, the reactions were overwhelmingly supportive. People thanked me for showing humanity, for being emotional about increasingly dangerous weather extremes. So many people understood and identified with what I expressed.
The moment revealed a shared experience of climate anxiety across generations. It’s time that we channel that into action.
Climate and environmental degradation are happening so quickly that we’re watching them come to pass almost in real time.
I grew up in a tropical paradise, Puerto Rico, and lived near the sea in San Juan. Snorkeling was one of my favorite pastimes, and the underwater wonders were just a mile or so bicycle ride away. What attracted me to the coast was the diversity of marine life, and the multitude of almost neon colors in the coral, fish and other species.
In my visits to Puerto Rico in recent years, I have returned to my favorite places to snorkel. I no longer see the color palette I saw 50 years ago. The corals are mostly bleached white or a dead shade of gray, and there aren’t as many varieties of underwater creatures.
Corals are extremely sensitive to changes in temperature. The stress of the increase in sea temperature combined with changing chemistry — all of it a result of climate change — is causing the disappearance of corals throughout the world. Caribbean reefs are in a particularly dire state: Since the 1970s, the region has lost 80 percent of its reefs.
Puerto Rico is also the place where I started my career. From the Caribbean to Florida to coastal Louisiana, every one of my 40 years as a meteorologist has been spent in tropical or subtropical latitudes. I’ve analyzed and forecast hundreds of tropical storms. And I’ve seen their patterns and behaviors change in real time, too.
Hurricanes of the early 21st century are not like the ones of the 20th century. A greater proportion of tropical cyclones around the planet are reaching violently catastrophic category 4 and 5 intensity. It’s not that there are more tropical storms overall. It’s that more of the ones that form are going through rapid intensification cycles like what we saw with Milton and Helene. Those types of mega hurricanes take more lives and wreck more livelihoods.
Frightening hurricanes are just one symptom of global warming. Add longer and more intense heat waves, heavier rainstorms, whiplash from drought to biblical deluge, sea levels rising at an accelerated rate and greater health effects, and the risks we face today will only compound in the future.
It is all those born into this relentless era of extreme weather have ever known. As the 33-year-old NBC meteorologist Angie Lassman told me, “It’s so heavy to know where we’re headed, to be so young and feel so helpless.” She’s just one of many thinking this way.
A recent survey of Americans ages 16 to 25 showed that 85 percent were worried about the climate crisis. The majority, 57 percent, were “very or extremely” worried. More broadly, 64 percent of Americans across all generations say they are at least “somewhat worried” about global warming. Whether you were born into this changed planet or, like me, have seen it degenerate before your very eyes, there’s plenty to fret about.
And yet, two out of every three Americans say they “rarely” or “never” discuss global warming with family and friends. That must change. My connection and level of comfort with the audience allowed me to show my emotions without fear of judgment. It might sound corny, but it was like I was speaking to family and friends. If I can do it over the airwaves, shouldn’t everyone be able to do it at the kitchen table?
If we can have more conversations about climate change and how it’s making us feel, we can share the burden and prioritize action.
Action on climate isn’t just what you can do on your own but also what you can do with others. If your neighborhood or school can switch to renewable energy, heat pumps and electric vehicles to lower their carbon footprint, it’s far more powerful than making those changes inside your household. One example is the 19-fold increase over the last five years in the size of the electric school bus fleet. Overall, the United States spent a record $248 billion in 2023 on the clean energy transition, more than triple what it was in 2018.
We must also look for more ways to scale community actions to the city, county, state and the nation. The way to demand that kind of large-scale action on climate is to identify and support elected leaders who can sway and enact climate-friendly policies. For those leaders who don’t, the power of your vote can hold them accountable.
Proof is mounting that climate change is the biggest challenge of the century. Personalize it, talk about it, meet people where they are and challenge them to prioritize it. This is a time like no other to be courageous.
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