I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. I guess I just wasn’t thinking … or maybe I was just thinking of myself.
I’m not sure when it started. I know I was quite young. I would be handed a paper towel to wipe up a spill. Styrofoam cups did well on campouts. They looked so cool when they melted in the fire pit! And paper plates? Well, who wants to do dishes after throwing a big get together? It’s exhausting!
I remember when I used to get a cup of water from the tap when I was thirsty. I’d use my hands to get a sip and rinse out my mouth in the bathroom. And, when we played at a friend’s house, we wouldn’t waste a second going inside for a drink … we’d use the garden hose. And I don’t remember getting sick from doing that. Then appeared the water bottle … this little, clear, plastic, economical and convenient way to have water with us wherever we went! It started discreetly. But before we knew it, they were everywhere … being sold for $1, $2, sometimes up to $5, depending where we were. There was a huge demand! It got to the point that we started offering our guests a water bottle instead of pouring it from a pitcher into a glass—you know, more convenient—maybe more classy! I don’t know.
Life started taking on a different shape. More convenience. Less time. Drive-thrus. Cup holders. Double bag it, please. I guess safety became an issue. Tamper resistant and “sealed for your protection.” Individually wrapped. Ziplock bags for just about everything we could imagine. Come to think of it, there is nothing that we buy that isn’t wrapped, isn’t put into, or doesn’t come in contact, somehow, with plastic. Hmmm … we even put our fresh fruit into plastic bags. Think about frozen food. Our lasagna dinner last night came in a plastic tray, with a plastic liner, in a waxy cardboard box. Our premade garlic toast (Texas-style … yum!) sealed for freshness in plastic. Even when we buy glass jars or bottles of products … plastic caps. Man, it’s frustrating.
When I was young, Dad would take us to the dump. That sounds strange, but it was fun! We’d load up whatever in the bed of our old Chevy truck—horse manure mostly (we had horses), yard clippings, trash, old books, whatever was lying around. And there we’d go, a dad and his girls, bumping along in that old truck, up over the hill to the dump. Dad always told us we were a big help, but now I know better. We went along for company … or … maybe to get out from under Mom’s skin. We didn’t really help. We’d watch him rake and push until the truck’s bed was empty. Then we’d ramble on home. But … since 7-Eleven was on the way home, why not stop there and get slurpees for all our hard work?! We’d race in the house and dump the cup, plastic dome lid, and colorful straw into the trash can. My, how those hit the spot!
Old habits die hard.
We keep a recycle box in the garage. It’s made of … plastic. We put all our yard waste into the green recycle city can. It’s made of plastic. We are cutting back on the plastic water bottles. We just bought some dishwasher-safe ones. They’re made of plastic. Hmmmmmm? Well … we are trying.
The little Crystal Light tub I put in the trash this morning? Oh, you saw that? Umm … well … It’s so little, I just thought … well, okay, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. Truly, I am.
That? Right there? I can start there? Right … the little things. Because I remember the dump. It was full of little things … lots and lots of little things.
