For the past few years I've spent time in these columns decrying war. I've written about flag-draped coffins and the sheer stupidity of our persistent desire to take up arms.

We did it to protect resources we need for our wasteful economy. We did it because Saddam is a bad fellow. And apparently we did it to protect ourselves from others who want to do us harm.

But as an anti-war advocate, I have been re-thinking my position lately.

When my father was a young man, Japan attacked Pearl Harbor, and he simply went to war. Now in his eighties, he is delighted to tell his grandchildren stories of his time in the service. The war was the moral imperative of his day.

I recently asked him why he joined the Navy - when he couldn't swim. And he explained that his family had lost someone to every other branch of the service, so he thought he would try his luck with the Navy. Interesting wartime logic.

In his day, when America was attacked, everyone got on a war footing, and away they went. They saved tin cans and planted victory gardens and darkened their cities and gave it everything they had - including their lives.

But in today's America, maybe not so much.

Here we are in the clutches of climate change, with a new moral imperative clearly laid out before us, and instead of fighting back, we dither.

Or shrug.

Or shop.

I heard about a recent Pew poll on the radio the other day that suggested fewer Americans care about climate change now than a year ago.

Must be that pesky recession. Today I heard someone from the White House claim that it has ended, by the way. Whew. That was close. Now that everyone is back at work and all of our retirement accounts are full again, it looks like we can start going back to the mall.

Me? I think I'll pass. I'm going to stay on the ramparts to fight climate change.

Because I think I might have grandchildren some day. And I think they might be curious about my war stories. They might want to know what I did to fight back.

On our current trajectory Jordan Lake will be dry, or undrinkable. As will our wells. If we do not take up the fight, we will not just see the occasional dust mask on some allergy sufferer mowing their lawn, or on some hypersensitive weirdo filling up at the pump, but we will see them everywhere.

The sight of SARS masks has jarred those of us who have traveled through Toronto airport. If we do nothing to fight climate change now, masks will be standard issue for our grandchildren.

And what are we going to say when they ask?

We could say, "We didn't try that, we thought it would be too expensive."

Or we could try, "We didn't try that because we didn't know if it would work."

Or we might say, "We didn't do anything. We didn't believe it in. Now put your respirator on and go back to sleep."

None of which are working for me. I'm going to fight back. I'm going to chase down my carbon footprint, I'm going to experiment with new ways of doing things, and I am going to redefine my relationship to energy.

I'm also going to recruit others to join the fight.

Before the United States entered World War II, the rest of the planet took up arms, outraged in part by the wholesale rape of Belgian women.

I'm not sure little old "rising sea levels" gets the same attention, and I certainly don't want Wilmington to have to be under water (and move in with us) before we join the fight.

I want the United States to attack the problem. In December the United Nations is hosting a conference on climate change in Copenhagen. Surely we don't have to be under water before we lead the charge.

Tell me America doesn't need a climate change equivalent to 9/11 before it will get off the couch to go to war. I refuse to believe that it's only Pearl Harbor-like events that can wake this country up.

For me it is much simpler than that. Someday, some grandchild is going to want to know what I did in the war against climate change.

And I will be pleased to have some stories to tell them.