OF HULA HOOPS AND OTHER DISAPPOINTMENTS

When I was a child in New Jersey, there was a large discount store in our area called Two Guys From Harrison.* My father would take us to Two Guys--as the store was eventually known--on Saturdays, and we would walk what I remember as wide aisles with goods piled up on each side.  Given the decades that have passed since those Saturdays, my memory of the store layout could be off.  There is one thing I do remember clearly, however, and that is the day we came upon hula hoops - piles and piles of hula hoops.  In my memory, there were hundreds, and I, at age eight or nine, thought them beautiful.  Such a rainbow of bright colors.  

These excursions were generally occasions for looking, not buying, but, I begged to be allowed to take home a hula hoop, and, to my amazement, my father bought me one.

The next thing I remember was my disappointment upon examining my prize during the ride home.  I don't recall what color it was, but I do remember that without the other hoops in the pile, it wasn't much to look at.  It was the rainbow that had attracted me.  

Of course, I enjoyed my new toy, but I have never forgotten that disappointment.  

Our lives begin with small disappointments such as the one I just described.  As we grow older, the disappointments increase.  Here is one I experienced that was more than a little embarrassing. When I first heard "the cloud" spoken of, and for several years thereafter, I understood the term literally. I thought data was floating above us. What can I say?  My mother always said I had a vivid imagination. Can you picture my disappointment when I learned that "the cloud" was a giant data center in, among other places, rural Oregon?  I can just hear Anne Shirley** saying, "There's no scope for imagination in that."

Some disappointments are more consequential.  Here is the one I want to talk about today:  I have recycled for decades.  Long before there was curb-side pickup, I would take my plastic, glass, cans, and newspapers to a recycling center.  I thought I was doing a good thing.  I still think it is a good thing where glass and paper and cans are considered, but a number of years back, I learned that much of the plastic that we dutifully recycle ends up in landfills.  

That was disappointing, but I kept setting out my plastic every two weeks in the special bin provided by our garbage collector, hoping that at least some of it would be recycled. And then, came the disappointment that turned quickly to a feeling of helplessness; a friend told me he no longer recycles plastic after learning that much of it is sent to Africa, where it is dumped in the ocean or burned. He figured a landfill was a better option than either of these two.   

After this conversation, I did my due diligence, reading articles confirming that less than ten percent of plastic is actually recycled; the rest winds up in landfills or overseas in countries that do not have the infrastructure to deal with it, where it is dumped or burned unsafely. Here is just one of many articles that explains what goes on.  I encourage you to read it. 

So what is the solution?  We can take small steps - e.g., replacing plastic straws with metal ones, avoiding items encased in heavy plastic, and, for the love of God, unless we are victims of a natural disaster, can we stop buying bottled water? Spoiler alert:  Much of it is just tap water.  

These small steps, however, will do nothing to stem the flow of plastic at its source. (And is it really possible to avoid buying things encased in plastic?)  As long as manufacturers are pumping plastic into every part of our lives, there is little we can do as individuals to keep the stuff out of our landfills and waterways. 

This brings me to my sense of helplessness.  Other than the small steps we can take to avoid plastic, can anyone tell me what we can do to influence manufacturers or lawmakers?  

Thoughts and prayers aren't going to do it.

Lest I leave you in a state of catatonia, I will offer a couple of hopeful signs.  

We have a company called Ridwell operating in our area.  For a small monthly fee (cheaper if paid annually), this company picks up items such as plastic bags, batteries, flat plastic lids, used clothing, light bulbs, and styrofoam, every two weeks.  The company is transparent about who they partner with and what becomes of the items they collect.  They do not dump items in a landfill or burn them. 

There are also places that will recycle electronics, another big problem -- my research turned up sources reporting that 85 percent of electronic waste winds up in landfills or is incinerated.  Earth Friendly Recycling is such a place near me in southwest Washington.  Free Geek in Portland, Oregon also refurbishes and recycles electronics.  A Google search will probably turn up a place near you.  

Of course, we shouldn't have to search out places to take our difficult-to-recycle item, but while we are figuring out how to influence those who create the waste, it's a start - a small one for sure, but I'm damned if I'm going to throw dead electronics in the trash.

Parting thought:  How about we buy less stuff?

* Fun fact - According to Wikipedia and other sources, when brothers Herbert and Sidney Hubschman opened their first store (after selling televisions from a vacant lot), they wanted to name the store Two Bastards From Harrison because that was what their competitors were calling them. Finding that no newspapers would take their ads, they substituted Guys for Bastards.   

** In case there is anyone who doesn't recognize the name, Anne Shirley is the titular character in the Anne of Green Gables series of young adult novels.