President Obama strongly endorsed a bill to curtail greenhouse gas emissions that has just been approved by a narrow margin in the House of Representatives. It would save families money, he claimed, and create new jobs. Many members of the public appeared to agree with the President on the need for the legislation, but why did they support it? Was it the savings or jobs he touted? Or was something else the true driving force behind their position?

For reasons that will become obvious, I have not reveaaled the real names of three neighbors I recently interviewed who told me they wanted the climate bill to become law. I believe, however, that they are merely the tip of a much larger iceberg with disturbing implications. Their stories follow:

I interviewed Mrs. S. as she tended her garden at the front of the modest suburban home she shared with her husband and three school-age children. She strongly supported the bill, she said emphatically, because it would save them money.

"How much do you expect to save?", I asked.

"The newspaper says it would be at least $100 a year", she replied.

I asked whether that sum was enough to explain the strength of her support.

"Of course", she insisted. "how can anyone afford to turn up their noses at $100 these days?"

Her husband, who had overheard our conversation from the doorway of the house, accompanied me to the sidewalk.

"Grace tells everyone it's the $100", he said quietly, "but I don't think that's the real reason."

"Her cousin lives in the Arizona", he continued, "and water is in short supply in the Southwest. With the climate warming there, the droughts are going to make it worse every year. People will suffer, the land will stop supporting any farming or even grazing, the economy will go bad..."

He hesitated. "It's not just her cousin", he said, "but everyone else out there who's hurt by droughts."

He then added, "I shouldn't tell you this, but the truth is Grace is not only worried about the droughts here in America. She's heard that the warming is making droughts worse in Africa, and maybe Asia and Australia, and people are starving."

"She's sort of a bleeding heart, that way", he confided, before we shook hands, and I walked on.

I wondered whether Mrs. S. was an anomaly, but my next conversation, with Mr. and Mrs. J., suggested otherwise.

Mr. J. looked to be in his mid to late forties, well built and vigorous with a few gray hairs at the temples.

"We need this bill because of jobs", he told me. "I've got a family to feed, and I can't give them what they need if I'm out there looking for a job instead of working", he announced.

His wife interrupted.

"Ted, what are you talking about?", she exclaimed. "You've run your own bicycle repair business for the past 12 years, and it's going strong. The only way you can lose your job is if you fire yourself."

He started to speak, but she persisted.

 "Didn't you tell me just last week you wanted the bill to pass because the new apprentice you hired has family in Bangladesh, and the floods and hurricane damages are driving them off their land, so they can't farm and can't make a living? You said, 'We've got to do something to put a stop to that - the buck stops with us' - I remember your exact words."

Mr. J didn't answer directly, but it seemed clear he was unhappy with his wife's comments.

"Bangladesh is fine, but if I don't bring home any income, how are you going to pay for the fancy dishes you just bought"?, he demanded, as I left them to visit my third neighbor.

Mr. and Mrs. N. greeted me in the doorway of their home. Mr. N. pointed to a partly constructed stairway at the back of the house.

"That's costing us real money", he complained. "A hundred bucks or two won't pay it all off, but it sure makes it easier to keep our house looking good. Definitely we need that bill to pass."

Mrs. N. glanced at her husband, and I could tell she was not sure whether to speak.

"John", she finally whispered, "Why don't you tell him the real reason you support that bill?"

"What are you talking about?", he asked.

She turned to me.

"A month ago, John was looking at the TV reruns showing Hurricane Katrina, and when he got to the picture of that man explaining how his wife was swept out of his arms by the flood, I saw tears in his eyes. He told me, 'yes, I know we can't blame one hurricane on global warming, but I also know that if we don't stop the warming, we're going to get stronger hurricanes and more people are going to die, and I don't want to have to look at more pictures like that.' He turned off the TV, and after that is when he started telling everyone they should write their Congressman to support the bill."

Mr. N. seemed embarrassed.

"It's worse than that", he explained. "The fellow across the street heard me talking about Katrina, and he asked me if that was more important than my family. He asked if I would still support the bill even if it cost me two hundred dollars instead of saving me a hundred. I told him of course not, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew it was a lie, and I've been ashamed ever since."

Mrs. N. elaborated. "John told me that he would really like to admit he doesn't care about a few dollars as much as those other people. The problem is, he can't tell people, because what will everybody think? We have to keep up appearances, you know."

This seemed to be a cue for Mr. N. to open up further. "It's true", he conceded. I want to admit I lied to that other person, to get that burden off my mind. I even thought of becoming a Catholic so I could confess to the priest."

"He decided not to", Mrs. N. intervened.

"Why not?", I asked.

"Well", said Mr. N., "I realized that when you confess something, you're supposed to promise never to do it again. And I kept thinking about Katrina and all that, and I said to myself, "What if it happens again? What if someone asks me what's important, and I lie and say it's only the money? I don't know if it's a promise I could keep."

Mrs. N. looked wistful. "It's a problem", she sighed. "John would really want to confess to people, but he's a proud man and he can't."

I told her I understood and that there might be others with similar problems who would be interested in reading about their dilemma. I then asked whether I might quote them. Her face grew hard and determined.

"Don't even think about it", she warned. "If you say one word mentioning our names, I'll deny we ever spoke to you!"

I've honored her wishes. Even the initials I cited are not the real ones.