I have a confession to make: I wasn’t involved with climate and clean energy issues when I was in college. I wanted to be, but my options were limited: be an activist or study engineering. I went to a small liberal arts school in Oregon on a theatre scholarship, so engineering wasn’t really my calling, and the activists kept pointing out the problems in the world. But I liked building things.
After college, I ended up working at a hospital in Oregon’s wine country—a small hospital that would soon be the country’s first Gold LEED certified hospital. I was able to combine my interests in green building, community relations, and art, and help put a hospital on the map that was a national example of how a healthy building contributed to healthy patients. In that job, I learned about how much energy hospitals use, about how complex energy is, and how hard it is to engage corporations, utilities, and community members about new solutions to energy choices.
A few years after I left the hospital, a small group of us decided to do something big: plan the largest teach-in in U.S history and focus it entirely on climate change. We called the project Focus the Nation, and on January 31, 2008, 1,900 teach-ins took place across the country. It was huge. It was at the height of the early presidential primaries between Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton. We were all over the news. But afterwards, I realized it didn’t attract all the different students working on the same end goal of sustainable energy. And when we surveyed the majority of students who did get involved, they said they wanted to commit their civic and professional lives—not just their collegiate activism—to solving climate change and building a low-carbon world.
How do we attract unlikely groups of students to work together on this issue? And how do we ensure that their collaborations on campus produce workforce-ready skills that move the energy industry forward?
These were the two main questions circulating in my head right around the time I started shooting hoops on Thursdays with a bunch of electricians who had designed and wired that hospital I worked at years ago. They told me stories about the cool jobs they work on now that make energy work smarter. Then I got an email from my little brother about the first biofuel patent he had just signed as a chemical engineering student at UC Berkeley, and I kept thinking, there’s a role for everybody in this.
What emerged was a simple collaboration framework that Focus the Nation now uses in building teams of college students all over the country. To solve big problems, we need four types of people working together: technicians, politicos, storytellers, and innovators. The framework helps students figure out what they’re good at, and why that matters in the context of what other people are good at. It also accelerates a group’s ability to design solutions.
We launched this framework in 2010, and since then have built teams of students in more than 30 states. These students are adding renewable energy to their grid, reducing greenhouse gas emissions, and have unlocked more than $245,000 in local capital to support their projects. They’re also gaining leadership skills that have produced partnerships with their town councils, planning commissions, public utility districts, and elected leaders. In the Focus the Nation network, they get access to mentorship from energy industry experts across the country who have signed on to help accelerate young clean energy talent. Those who have graduated are now working for companies and organizations like Vestas, GE Wind, EDP Renewables, the Sierra Club, and Alliance for Climate Education.
The U.S. Department of Energy is now using our collaboration framework and our Energy 101 curriculum to inform a new national energy literacy standard that they will begin rolling out in late 2013 for high school teachers and college professors.
To achieve a more sustainable energy system in the U.S., we tend to fixate on political and technical challenges. This is important because we ultimately need to overhaul our electrical and transportation infrastructure. What we often overlook though, is our human capital gap on the issue. Smart decisions, breakthrough innovations, unlikely collaborations, accelerating innovations into the marketplace, advancing policies that change the game, rebuilding transmission lines—all of these decisions are made by people in positions of leadership who have tremendous capacity to simultaneously balance pragmatism, tension, and imagination.
The utility industry alone is facing a 62 percent turnover in the next decade. What’s the strategy to replace that talent? And what kind of skills do we need them to have beyond their technical and academic training if we’re serious about making our energy systems more resilient, efficient, and smart? Just last week an executive in the renewable energy sector told me that they are more likely to hire someone who has done an internship at a utility, than someone who has five years of experience at another renewable energy company. Why? Because no matter how much renewable energy you produce, you have to play ball with utilities to make the economies of scale work.
Every year, our 7,000 universities across the country pump out 1.5 million students. If you add up all the programs out there on campuses that are teaching those students about the complexity of our climate and energy challenges, not even 1 percent of our 1.5 million students have the intellectual grounding or the leadership skills to tackle this problem.
So, as the GOOD community focuses on energy throughout the month of February, if you live in a house somewhere that has a monthly energy bill, try geeking out on how much energy you use. It’s cool to know, and fun to learn about your options to reduce how much you use. Every utility in America has an efficiency strategy; call them up and ask how you can help. If you’re a tech nerd or policy wonk, get to DC at the end of February and attend the 4th annual ARPA-E Energy Innovation Summit. It will blow your mind.
For those of you who are university presidents (or who went to college and are looking for an excuse to call your alma mater and talk about legacy and philanthropy), if you start offering Energy 101 courses tied to leadership and career skills that fast track students into meaningful work in the energy industry, I guarantee it will help you attract and retain students. Nine out of 10 young people I meet all over the country want to be a part of something good—like changing our country’s energy story.


This month, challenge a neighbor to GOOD’s energy smackdown. Find a neighbor with a household of roughly the same square footage and see who can trim their power bill the most. Throughout February, we’ll share ideas and resources for shrinking your household carbon footprint, so join the conversation at good.is/energy.


Illustration by Tyler Hoehne

  • Motorcyclist trapped under a 3,300 pound car saved by Australian car salesmen
    Photo credit: @ACurrentAffair9 on YouTubeA man was saved from being crushed under a car.

    Tyler Wiebe was on his way to work on his motorcycle in Brisbane, Australia. Then a car approached in the wrong way in traffic, colliding with another car that then hit Wiebe. The accident threw Wiebe off his bike and under a car. He was trapped under the 3,300-lb. vehicle, doomed until a group of salesmen and onlookers came to his rescue.

    “I was being dragged and when it stopped, my head and chest were under the car,” Wiebe said to the Australian Broadcasting Corporation. The crash and being pinned down under the vehicle gave Wiebe several injuries. He suffered broken ribs, a broken collarbone, and a collapsed lung.

    But that would be diagnosed later. At the time, the car’s weight was crushing Wiebe to the point that he couldn’t breathe. His heart was also unable to beat, the pressure causing his eyes, mouth, and nose to bleed.

    “Initially it was ‘can I get out?’ and then it was ‘man I am dying, this is it,’” recalled Wiebe. “[My] wife and two kids are not here, and this is it.”

    Hope comes in the form of a car salesman

    After being stuck for two minutes under the car, help arrived from the nearby Auto Request Kedron, a used car dealership.

    “I was in the office at the time, so I heard the bang [and] came running to the doors,” Mick, one of the employees, said to A Current Affair.

    “I realized there was someone trapped under the car,” fellow employee Rob added.

    They rushed into action, recruiting other coworkers to help.

    “[I] saw Rob running and he was just whistling out saying, ‘Hey, boys, hurry up,’ ” Corbin recalled. “I remember seeing him, just like two legs. They weren’t moving at that time.”

    The salesmen tried to lift the vehicle up to get Wiebe to safety, but the car wouldn’t budge.

    “We tried to lift it off. We couldn’t, and then on the second attempt, we had a couple of other good Samaritans come and help us,” said Brian, another employee of Auto Request Kedron.

    Reportedly 15 people were finally able to lift the car and free Wiebe underneath. He was rushed to the hospital where he went under emergency operations. Under hospital care, Wiebe’s condition stabilized and he survived. Had he been under that car any longer, the worst would have happened.

    Wiebe was humbled and grateful to the salesmen and others who stepped up to save him.

    “I get more time with my daughters, I get more time with my family and a second lease on life, so just thank you, thank you,” Wiebe said in his hospital bed.

    Certified legends

    When he was discharged from the hospital, Wiebe set up a reunion with the employees of the used car dealership. He was able to introduce his family to his rescuers and thank them face-to-face. Wiebe presented them with matching t-shirts, each one with a logo reading “Certified Legend” on the front and an illustration of a person lifting a car over their head on the back.

    “You guys are legends, but now you’re certified legends,” Wiebe said to his heroes.

    A father and husband was saved thanks to the alertness and quick action of the nearby community.

  • Texas engineers develop a jacket that pulls fresh drinking water out of thin air
    Photo credit: @fascinatingonX/CanvaWearing this jacket could help keep people hydrated.

    For too many, access to clean drinking water is incredibly difficult. According to the World Health Organization, over two billion people live in water-stressed areas due to pollution, climate change, or population growth. However, engineering experts in Texas have developed a possible solution: just put on a jacket.

    The engineers and researchers gathered at the University of Texas at Austin developed a prototype jacket that can pull drinking water out of thin air. The jacket could help anyone frequently in areas where drinkable water is scarce. This could be used recreationally by campers, hikers, and runners—but it could also save lives. Emergency responders, soldiers, and agricultural workers could also collect water for themselves and others simply by wearing it.

    The technology behind the jacket is similar to the materials used in netting for water harvesting of air and fog. This time, however, the idea is to collect water while also being mobile.

    “Water harvesting from air is usually imagined as a stationary device such as a box, a panel or a large sorbent bed,” said Guihua Yu, chair professor of the Cockrell School of Engineering’s Walker Department of Mechanical Engineering and Texas Materials Institute. “Here, we wanted to rethink the form of the technology. If the fabric itself can collect water from air, it opens a new direction for personal and portable water access.”

    How does this jacket collect water?

    The textile used to create the jacket was derived from a device the same team created. That device was a specially engineered hydrogel fabric made from biomass-derived materials. This hydrogel fabric takes moisture from the air and then releases it as water via condensation when it’s heated by sunlight. The water can easily be collected.

    The jacket’s textile collects moisture from the air and funnels it into detachable harvesting units. The units can be placed into a foldable collector piece where they are heated to produce water. The material and system doesn’t just absorb water like other materials. Instead, it actively converts vapor into water while functioning as a piece of protective clothing.

    The jacket is able to produce between 400 to 900 milliliters of drinkable water daily. This is a vast improvement upon other similar inventions that yielded less water and were significantly bulkier to wear. The jacket’s material could collect and produce more water over time and testing, depending on the humidity of the terrain.

    Aside from creating clothing out of the material, the researchers hope to make backpacks, tents, emergency shelters, and other outdoor gear from it. The hope is that this could create more clean water access for disaster response units and everyday people living in water-stressed areas alike.

    How much hydration do you need in the heat?

    Until water-collecting jackets are commercially available, it’s important to have drinkable water nearby at all times, especially during the summer. When out in the heat, the Center for Disease Control recommends having a drink of water before working outdoors. Then drink a cup of water every 15 to 20 minutes. This can help keep your body cool and hydrated to prevent heat stroke. That said, stay alert and stay indoors if there is a heat warning in your area.

  • Why Gen Z is falling in love with film photography
    Photo credit: Yasin Akgul/AFP via Getty ImagesChildren look at developed film in a darkroom during an analog photography workshop held in southeastern Turkey on June 14, 2026.
    ,

    Why Gen Z is falling in love with film photography

    Analog cameras offer a slower, social antidote to digital life.

    Film photography is experiencing a resurrection, summoned by unlikely conjurers: Gen Z.

    It wasn’t too long ago that analog photography – which uses photographic film and chemical processing – was declared all but dead, relegated to the province of niche hobbyists and professional artists.

    Digital cameras had taken over nearly all areas of photographic production. Film industry titans like Polaroid and Kodak had shrunk dramatically from their heyday, becoming shells of their former selves. Darkrooms, where students learned how to manually develop and print film, shuttered at high schools and college campuses across the country, replaced by digital labs. For most people, the spirit of analog photography was mainly channeled through Instagram filters.

    But within the past five years, younger people have been increasingly drawn to the old way of doing photography.

    In 2025, 35% of the 42 million active film camera users worldwide were reported to be between the ages of 18 and 30. The year prior, online searches for analog photography saw a 41% rise.

    Disposable camera sales have been steadily increasing since 2023. The photography journal PetaPixel went a step further and announced 2024 as “film’s best year in decades,” as major brands have introduced new cameras in response to renewed demand and revived classic modelsMore than 30% of respondents to a 2024 Ilford Photo survey on film photography were in the 25-34 age group.

    As I’ve witnessed more and more of my undergraduate art and design students embrace analog photography, I’m not seeing this as a trend rooted in a nostalgic yearning for the past. Instead, I’m seeing it as young people rejecting algorithms, breaking free from the alienation of social media and reacting to childhoods spent on Zoom and TikTok – a deliberate move to redefine the future of art, social connection and engagement with the world.

    Pining for a ‘third place’

    In my work as a historian of photography and lecturer at the University of Southern California, I’ll often ask my students about how they take photos – whether they’re using digital cameras their smartphones or analog devices.

    This year, for the first time, some of my students discussed images they’d printed and the physical photography albums they’d put together of their friends and family. They talked about how they’d also been sending postcards, writing letters and tacking photographs to their bedroom walls.

    Young Black man wearing a black hat and black sweatshirt holds a small camera up to his eyes to snap a photograph.
    New York Knicks forward OG Anunoby snaps a photo with a disposable film camera during the team’s victory rally on June 18, 2026, after winning the NBA Finals. Craig T. Fruchtman/Getty Images

    I couldn’t help but think about how so much of the language tied to early social media seemed to refashion physical gestures for a virtual world – “posting” on a “wall,” “poking,” “tagging” and “bookmarking,” not to mention “friending.”

    This was a rhetorical move by social media companies, likely designed to help people feel as though they were in a familiar terrain of social connection. Yet the underlying business model of these platforms depended more on maximizing engagement and advertising revenue than on nurturing authentic relationships.

    Everyone knows what happened next: The more connected young people became online, the more isolated and detached they started to feel. The COVID-19 lockdown pushed social life online even further, and researchers are only now starting to see how the combination of increased screen time and isolation negatively affected adolescents’ mental health. By 2023, 51% of American teenagers reported they spend at least four hours a day on social media.

    I see the attraction of analog photography as a response to life lived through screens, a pathway toward community engagement and the desire for what sociologists call “a third place.”

    Coined by sociologist Ray Oldenburg in his 1989 book “The Great Good Place,” third places are meant as a space separate from home and work. They offer a reprieve for the in-between, generating the conditions needed for creative cross-pollination. They might include a local cafe, a neighborhood writing group, a weekly Magic: The Gathering game or a college fraternity – any space that allows for social interaction and personal growth.

    These spaces also combat loneliness. They get people out of their heads and into a community. Oldenburg also referred to them as “havens of sociability,” places or gatherings where people can arrive alone to join others, and the atmosphere is “democratic and festive.”

    Analog communities IRL

    In April 2026, the inaugural AnalogCon took place in Los Angeles. Organized by the Los Angeles Center of Photography, where I serve as executive director and chief curator, it was a festival for all things analog photography. It didn’t just serve as a third place for photography enthusiasts; it also showed how analog photography – as a practice, ritual and community – is flourishing.

    Vendors, industry leaders, artists and teachers participated in the two-day event, which included exhibitions, panels, demonstrations and guided photography tours around Little Tokyo. The excitement and thirst for similar events was palpable.

    Photography now joins a broader trend of a generational preoccupation with physical cultural objects and media. Although music streaming represents 82% of revenues generated in the music industry, vinyl records sales have been rising for over a decade, crossing the US$1 billion threshold in the U.S. in 2025.

    A table featuring an array of camera equipment spanning different eras, with hands holding some of the objects.
    Customers peruse vintage film cameras at a stall on Brick Lane in London’s East End on June 14, 2026. Richard Baker/In Pictures via Getty Images

    Nearly 60% of Gen Z are now purchasing records. VHS tapes and VCR players are also making a strange comeback, with stores like Be Kind Video and Videotheque in California offering VHS, DVDs and Blu-ray rentals.

    But beyond that, record stores and video rental shops have become third places in their own right. There’s a big difference between selecting a film to stream from your bed and getting out of the house, going to a store and talking about movies with a clerk and fellow film enthusiasts.

    Think about the sound a tape cassette makes when you open and close it, or the vibrant graphics on the covers of DVDs or VHS tapes. Think about rewinding or making a mixtape for your recent crush. These are objects of belonging that signal specific cultural moments, rituals and aesthetics, and many young people today are starting to experience them for the first time.

    Now, think about gently inserting a roll of film into a camera. Think about choosing an angle carefully when snapping a photo, because the number of frames is limited and you want to make them count. Think about the thrill of discovery when the pictures finally emerge as objects on paper.

    To me, these are more than fleeting trends. They signal a push against a digital culture that is designed to cultivate envy and reward outrage, insults and humiliation.

    Instead, armed with rolls of film, more and more Gen Zers appear to be opting out of their algorithmic feeds in favor of experiencing life in ways that feel more deliberate, personal and tangible.

    This article originally appeared on The Conversation. You can read it here.

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