Whats Really in That Carton of Orange Juice?

That was the caption for an article that appeared in my local paper a few weeks ago. (strangly, from a copy of the original appearing in the Boston Globe) Orange juice is a way of life for many of us who live in Florida. We either pick our own and sqeeze the juice or buy it from the store. Im sure many a busy Mom has opted for store bought juice and probably senior citizens, finding it difficult to manage the various implements for juicing, do so as well.

In the article, reporter Devra First, informs us of a book titled "Squeezed: What You Dont Know About Orange Juice by author Alissa Hamilton due out in May, Yale University Press. http://yalepress.yale.edu/yupbooks/book.asp?isbn=9780300124712
I wouldnt have thought that orange juice would be something that needed chemical assistance but it seems I was wrong. While the adjectives "natural and pure" are used in almost every ad promoting Florida orange juice, it aint necessarily so. The author relates that what we often percieve as natural florida orange juice "bears the fingerprints of chemists and is often shipped from South America".

So what else dont we know?
Its heavily engineered and heavily processed. Pasteurization is a process in which the juice is heated and stripped of oxygen so it doesnt oxidize. It also gets stripped of flavor because the flavor chemicals are volatile. It can then be stored in tanks for up to a year. When its ready to be put into packages for shipping, flavor packs are added to make it taste fresh once again. There are actually flavor companies that engineer these flavor packs from orange-derived substances, essence and oils which are broken down into individual chemicals and recombined. Who knew? Even the "not-from-concentrate" juice, while still comming from Florida, is stored for quite a long time but even that is changing. With cheap land and almost nonexistant environmental regulations Brazil has beckoned the likes of Tropicana which now ship full strength juice from there.

Now drinking this tinkered with O J may be just fine for some folks, it definatly wont kill ya but one point of the book is that people should have the right to know if it HAS been tinkered with and WHERE the oranges are really grown. This could be easily accomplished by proper labeling. (Im being nice, that should read TRUTH in LABELING) The final point of the book is that the Florida growers who are still trying to produce a pure product are struggling against these agro-behemoths who have taken their production offshore. One by one as they are forced out of business and put their land up for sale, the developers move in, bulldoze and pave over whats left of our shrinking natural resources.

The View Through My Mask

In the year of my sixteenth summer, I discovered one of the best of lifes bargains. Scuba diving. My romantic interest at the time just happened to have a set of scuba gear and offered to teach me how to do it, using the reservoir behind the local dam as my classroom. My first two attempts were rather disasterious. As tall and skinny as I was, the heavy tanks almost brought me to my knees. Those flopping flippers didnt help either. (Warning: Dont attempt this if you want to be known as Miss Poise) Submerging beneath the water, the weight of the tanks played tricks on me and I found myself flat on my back, arms and legs flailing like an upside down turtle trying to right itself. However, prince charming came to the rescue and on the third try, off I went.

I had expected to see a bunch of dead trees, drowned by the water that had created the reservoir. Instead, the view through my mask revealed a lush, green, gently swaying forest while fish, small and large, lazily wound their way through this living wonderland. I sadly bid adieu to summer that year, as well as prince charming. It would be 12 long years before I donned another mask.

The tide of life carried me from the cold environs of that reservoir in Michigan to the sunny shores of Miami and when my first born son, already a whiz at snorkeling, turned eight, we headed for the Keys to get our first glimpse of a coral reef. We found a reef, situated just outside a protected swimming area on the Atlantic side of an island whose name I dont recall. I was suprised that a reef could be found in such shallow water and opted to sit atop the berm surrounding the swimming area to watch my son wade off into his great adventure. And great it was. He encountered a small squid that shot a stream of ink at him as he disturbed its quiet solitude and unable to quell his excitement, called for me to join him.

The moment I slipped under the water I realized this was a whole new world. The colors, from simple to sublime, of this little reef would have made any artist drool. Tiny fish dressed in a rainbow of varing colors darted in and out from the corals protective cover as if they were a bunch of children playing hide and seek. Small sea creatures, the likes of which I had never seen, moved around, over and under the coral ignoring our intrusion. The coral itself was a thing of wonder. Its colors, intricate designs, shapes and sizes made it look as if it had been placed there by a master carver, yet, it was a living thing capable of dying just as we are. Too soon, it was time to pack up and head home. As grand as this little patch of reef was, even bigger and more wonderous views could be found in Florida Bay, a favorite of divers and snorklers on the west side of the chain of Keys. The water was so clear that during the mid-sixties a statue known as the Christ of the Abyss was placed as an underwater attraction just off Key Largo.

Today, that underwater wonderland is vastly changed. The coral reefs in Florida Bay as well as the reefs that run up along the Florida coast are dying. The sewerage effluent, pesticides, phosphorous, fertilizers and oil tainted run-off we have pumped into the ocean, the Everglades and our rivers have finally taken their toll. As of 2003, just 7.2 percent of the coral on the Florida Reef Tract was still alive. It might not seem like a big deal to someone whose never seen a reef up close but if fish is one of your favorite meals, it should be. The reefs are the nurseries for many of the fish species we love to eat. When the obituary for our reefs is written it will include a long list of victims that perished with them.

Changes in My World

For as far back as I can remember, nature was a part of me. I had no fear of its insects, snakes and critters large or small, although after a particular encounter involving some nasty spider bites, I learned to admire those little rascals from a respectable distance. I always assumed that things would stay the same. The same wildflowers would bloom every spring, the birds would return from their winter habitat, the lake and river waters would run clear, the bear and deer and bobcats would always be there sulking through the woods just out of eyesite, the coral reefs would live forever and there would always be bountiful amounts of fish in the oceans.
I was too busy to pay attention to the subtle changes that were happening.

It wasnt until '98, when my son gave me my first computer that I was capable of getting online and I joined a couple of messageboards devoted to talking about the environment, that I realized things could not stay the same. And once I started giving serious thought to it, I knew those changes had been happening right before my very blinded eyes.

The one thing I did pay attention to was the increasing cost of living. Talk about an elephant in the room, this issue couldnt be ignored and I attacked it head-on. I was determined to reduce those high electric and water bills.