I hope those stunning photographs that the Artemis II astronauts sent back of Earth remind us of the stakes as we celebrate Earth Day. We’re a radiant, fragile oasis of life against the blackness of interstellar space.
Back here on terra firma I try to perform a simple annual act of reverence by cleaning up the trash that has collected along our country road over the previous 12 months. My impression, based on zero scientific evidence but a couple decades of experience, is that you can tell something about the state of society, and even detect sociological trends, by examining our garbage.
Thus, I’m happy to report that passing motorists are tossing less trash from their vehicles than they were only a few years ago. They also seem to be getting healthier. The smoker, who in years past deposited his cigarette butts in a bottle of water and then tossed the brown swill out his car window, seems to be kicking the habit.
I also didn’t come across a single losing lottery ticket. They previously constituted a primary source of litter. I’m guessing — what — that gamblers may have migrated have away from scratch off games to online sportsbooks?
But the big news is that alcohol consumption seems to have declined precipitously. I’ll typically find dozens of beer containers — both bottles and cans, domestic and imported, together with their decomposing packaging. But this year I came across no more than a smattering of cans and not a single bottle.
Also not one empty handle of bourbon or vodka, another first. I’ve read that alcohol consumption is declining, especially among millennials and Gen Z’er’s. But I would have guessed that people with little remorse about tossing their trash in other people’s woods would be more or less immune to self-improvement.
Don’t get me wrong. I wasn’t underemployed as I descended down the shoulder of the road and waded into swamps with my trusty trash picker whenever I spotted the telltale glint of glass or aluminum. I found no conversation starters such as the size 13 stiletto heel that I came across one year. However, I did happen upon 50 or so packets of Taco Bell hot sauce. I’ll sometimes take a couple of packets too many of Heinz ketchups at McDonald’s. But dozens of them?
I take pride in leaving no garbage behind. But there are limits, especially at our turnaround. Our property crosses from one town into another so both locality’s road crews use the feature to reverse course when they hit the town line. And deadbeats see the open space as an invitation to dump their megafauna garbage — ovens, washing machines, tires — that might cost them money if they took them to the town dump. Still, that doesn’t explain the oven-stuffer somebody left behind. Maybe they thought they were feeding the coyotes.
I line a foldable shopping cart with a bag and then walk up and down the road in search of garbage, receiving mystified or suspicious glances from passing motorists. One year a driver slowed, rolled down his window and asked whether I wanted his empties? I declined but wondered what sort of an impression I was making? I don’t dress up to go garbage picking but I also don’t dress down.
There’s one pilgrimage I always make on my litter picking peregrinations. Just below the turnaround a hyacinth always blooms at this time of year.
Since the plant is native to the eastern Mediterranean I assume it was once part of somebody’s trash. I prefer to think it as symbolic of rebirth and renewal. Of beauty beating the odds. Just like the Earth is struggling to do in those remarkable images from outer space.
Ralph Gardner Jr. is a journalist who divides his time between New York City and Columbia County. More of his work can be found in the Berkshire Eagle and on Substack.
The views expressed by commentators are solely those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect the views of this station or its management.
