I have a nightmare of drowning in plastics. I’m buried in a landfill. More and more plastics are dumped on top of me. It builds and builds. I try to push it off. More keeps coming down. It’s unending. I attempt to swim up through it, but it continues to push me down as bags, bottles and containers continue to rain down until I submit to the onslaught.
That’s the nightmare. Others rage at the plastic nightmare blowing through trees, sitting by the side of the road, building up in our oceans, overwhelming as far as the eye can see. I have a good friend who can barely contain his anger at motorists who toss plastic debris out their moving car window. It takes all of his self-control not to jump out of his auto at the next stoplight and wring the neck of the perpetrator. You can see the veins bulge in his forehead when he tells this story.
So, his wife got him one of those extension arms for Christmas that allows you to pick garbage up with a clipping device on the end of a long pole so you don’t have to bend over. He was quite happy for a while. Then in broke. I’m not sure if he fixed it. If not, his frustration has probably been building again.
I’m a lot like him. I’ve repeatedly thought about buying one of those pointed sticks that’s used by people who cleanup the areas to the sides and in-between our nation’s highways. Spear the trash, slide it in the bag.
Another friend sees a spot every morning as he walks to the YMCA to work out. Twenty-five yards of sidewalk has heavy overgrowth. “People throw all their sh…t in there,” as he puts it. He walks by and thinks, “If I had a bag and one of those pick ‘em up sticks, I’d clean this up.”
For all of this, not having the spear or “pick ‘em up stick” can be an excuse. We put off doing the job. We keep looking at the mess, watching it grow and not acting. I’m guilty like the next person despite the fact that I participate in the occasional organized cleanups.
Our mother was a forward thinker and someone who put action over words. She would walk our dog after the three of us sons left the house, picking up trash and carrying it home to recycle or properly dispose of. The mile on either side of where we lived in Topeka, KS, was always spotless. Think if every homeowner did this.
Walk a mile in each direction. Pick up all the trash. We’d clean the world and get exercise. What an ideal solution.
There are so many opportunities for us to do good in our local neighborhoods that I sometimes think inertia stops many of us from actually doing something. We look and look and think what a blight the blowing plastic and other debris is, but we don’t stop the car to pick anything up. Perhaps we are commuting to work and time is short. Maybe we are en route to vacation and want to get there. The excuses are endless.
Start small. If there’s trash blowing around by the place you work, take a few minutes over lunch to pick up the parking lot. Expand from there. If you want to exponentially extend your reach, have someone buy you the “pick ‘em upper.” That will create a true commitment.
That’s the nightmare. Others rage at the plastic nightmare blowing through trees, sitting by the side of the road, building up in our oceans, overwhelming as far as the eye can see. I have a good friend who can barely contain his anger at motorists who toss plastic debris out their moving car window. It takes all of his self-control not to jump out of his auto at the next stoplight and wring the neck of the perpetrator. You can see the veins bulge in his forehead when he tells this story.
So, his wife got him one of those extension arms for Christmas that allows you to pick garbage up with a clipping device on the end of a long pole so you don’t have to bend over. He was quite happy for a while. Then in broke. I’m not sure if he fixed it. If not, his frustration has probably been building again.
I’m a lot like him. I’ve repeatedly thought about buying one of those pointed sticks that’s used by people who cleanup the areas to the sides and in-between our nation’s highways. Spear the trash, slide it in the bag.
Another friend sees a spot every morning as he walks to the YMCA to work out. Twenty-five yards of sidewalk has heavy overgrowth. “People throw all their sh…t in there,” as he puts it. He walks by and thinks, “If I had a bag and one of those pick ‘em up sticks, I’d clean this up.”
For all of this, not having the spear or “pick ‘em up stick” can be an excuse. We put off doing the job. We keep looking at the mess, watching it grow and not acting. I’m guilty like the next person despite the fact that I participate in the occasional organized cleanups.
Our mother was a forward thinker and someone who put action over words. She would walk our dog after the three of us sons left the house, picking up trash and carrying it home to recycle or properly dispose of. The mile on either side of where we lived in Topeka, KS, was always spotless. Think if every homeowner did this.
Walk a mile in each direction. Pick up all the trash. We’d clean the world and get exercise. What an ideal solution.
There are so many opportunities for us to do good in our local neighborhoods that I sometimes think inertia stops many of us from actually doing something. We look and look and think what a blight the blowing plastic and other debris is, but we don’t stop the car to pick anything up. Perhaps we are commuting to work and time is short. Maybe we are en route to vacation and want to get there. The excuses are endless.
Start small. If there’s trash blowing around by the place you work, take a few minutes over lunch to pick up the parking lot. Expand from there. If you want to exponentially extend your reach, have someone buy you the “pick ‘em upper.” That will create a true commitment.