– Random Writings: Column by Rebecca Lindquist – - One man’s trash

– Random Writings: Column by Rebecca Lindquist –

School has been in full swing for a couple months now, and, if that wasn’t readily evident before, it’s now apparent by the amount of debris I keep finding in my yard. There is the occasional piece of trash that decorates my lawn during the summer months, but the amount increases exponentially when school is in session.

I’ve picked up sandwich wrappers, aluminum cans, automotive products, ranging from empty Heet bottles to cardboard funnels, greasy shop rags, dryer sheets, sour cream lids, candy wrappers, potato chip bags, empty (or not-so-empty) Gatorade or partially consumed juice bottles, among other paraphernalia.

I realize school-aged children couldn’t possibly have dropped everything. An ill wind blows no good, but, that being said, someone threw it down somewhere, for it to make its way to me.

I recently found a Snickers wrapper in my recycling bin that was still sitting at the curb. Some joker must have chucked it in as they were passing by. I actually didn’t mind someone making use of the bin, since it’s much easier to pick the wrapper out of a container, than traipse all over creation, trying to chase down a lightweight paper wrapper on a windy day.

My one regret was it didn’t still contain the candy bar.

All the random rubbish raises the question, have kids these days been taught not to litter? The pathetic part is, I have witnessed adults leaving trash lying around. Even if someone can ignore how visually unappealing that is, they should consider the monetary repercussions. The United States imposes some pretty hefty fines for littering.

A first offense carries a minimum fine of $100 and eight hours of community service. A third or subsequent offense can garner a fine of not less than $750, and a maximum of 2.4 hours of community service. If a trip to Illinois is planned, you may want to leave your smokes at home. If caught throwing your cigarette butts on the ground, it’s a staggering $1,500 for the violation.

I grew up in a time where it wasn’t uncommon to see roadside ditches containing a full bag of trash. Dumps were commonplace in the country, on a back road surrounded by thickets, deep in the woods. These dumps were the final resting place for broken appliances, junk lawnmowers, old cars, unwanted household furnishings, random pieces of silverware, broken dishes, toys and anything no longer useful.

That was a Sunday afternoon outing for my family. We would go dump hunting, hitting up several well-known spots that contained a veritable treasure trove of exciting finds. I’m sure it doesn’t sound the least bit peculiar that we were enamored with someone else’s discarded rubbish.

What can I say? We were easily amused. Weird? Perhaps, but to put it in perspective, it was more like antiquing. Mom and Dad collected old, unique items and I think that’s how I fell in love with anything vintage.

Dump hunting is not for the faint of heart. Some areas had been a dumping ground for at least 50 years or more. We wore sturdy boots to tromp through the rubble, carefully watching where we stepped, avoiding rusty barbed wire, broken glass, nails and, several times, coiled up snakes.

We wore gloves and had an army shovel to dig through layer after layer of built-up refuse. Hand sanitizer wasn’t invented until 1988, so we carried several soapy rags in a sandwich bag, to wash our hands afterward. The downside of these adventures, besides the snakes, was moving a trash bag to discover it had busted open, revealing its maggot-covered contents.

I still think fondly of those times (except the maggots) and how much pleasure we got out of doing something so simple.