We may be running out
of landfill space in the West, but not because of me. I’m a
packrat.
I spent summers in eastern Montana with my
grandparents, who lived in an apartment above a department store. I
spent the warm days rummaging through trash bins in the alley
behind the store, and then I’d set up pretend offices in
refrigerator crates and arrange my treasures. I carted boxes of
stuff up the stairs into my grandparents’ home. I referred to
this as my “good garbage.”
Since then, the
sight of an overflowing Dumpster has become irresistible. In fact,
I often take my bags of garbage out to the Dumpster in the alley
behind my house and come back with more than I took out.
I can’t resist cardboard boxes and bubble wrap. I have a new
neighbor who buys a lot of stuff online, and he’s been very
helpful about putting bubble wrap and other packing materials on my
porch so that I don’t have to fish them out of the Dumpster.
This is a boon since I’ve started selling on online auctions,
and packing materials are expensive.
Several friends who
are not addicted to saving stuff have happily given me their
rejected items. This has added to my clutter problem, but
I’ve saved some lovely things from the landfill. I also find
incredible stuff in the garbage. I’ve found clothes and shoes
that are practically unworn and still look great. Why were they
thrown into the Dumpster and not donated to a local thrift shop?
This seems like selfish consumerism.
Finding books is
particularly distressing. I’ve been a bookworm all my life
and have come to regard books as almost sacred. Whether or not I
want to read them is irrelevant — I just know there’s
someone somewhere who would enjoy the books.
I’ve
found unbroken dishes and hand-painted pottery, and I’ve
found family photo albums dating back to the turn of the last
century– yes, the 1 890s. Think of the loss of local history.
I’ve passed it all on: Civil War relics, old tools, pop
bottles and other bottles have sold well and found their way into
the hands of grateful collectors. A 1942 car radio in amazing
condition, its dashboard buttons intact, was saved from the
landfill and, after much enthusiastic bidding, found its way to a
delighted car restorer in Tennessee.
I’m amazed
when I find towels in a Dumpster. Don’t towels have a
definite life cycle? Initially, they match the decor and are
trotted out when company comes. After a few washings, they become
daily-use towels. When a stain can’t be removed or an edge
becomes frayed, they stand handy if the washer overflows, or they
can be pushed against the bottom of a drafty door. At the next
stage, they line a pet carrier for a trip to the veterinarian. They
can be carried in the trunk of the car in case of a roadside
emergency. Several years ago I was in a car accident, and a kind
woman stopped and gave me a towel she carried in her car for just
such an emergency — of course, I still have the towel.
At their final stage, they are cut into pieces and used for
polishing silver and other messy tasks. Then the small pieces,
hopelessly stained and not worth washing, finally become garbage
and are thrown away, reluctantly and with a nod of gratitude for
years of service. But a whole towel thrown away? Never.
I
think you could say that I find the concept of garbage a mystery.
At what point does an object become garbage? Why is something
garbage to one person and a treasure to another? Throwing things
away has always been gut-wrenching for me. How could something that
I ever considered a treasure suddenly become garbage?
I
see magazines with blurbs on the cover about conquering clutter. I
eagerly turn to the article hoping to find some helpful advice,
only to find the suggestion that I use old ice-cube trays to
organize my earrings. There’s nothing about how to deal with
a three-foot-high stack of old magazines that are still as
interesting to me as they were the day they arrived in my mailbox.
Here’s a tip: Next time you throw something Into
the trash, try to think outside the Dumpster. How about giving your
old magazines to a neighbor who perhaps can’t afford to buy
them at the newsstand? How about taking books and magazines to a
nursing home or hospital? Could what you’re throwing away be
donated, reused, recycled, or sold at online auction?
Think: Does it really belong in a landfill?
Jeannie Pomeroy is a contributor to Writers on the Range,
a service of High Country News (hcn.org). She lives and collects in
Raton, New Mexico.
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