Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Just took our recycling to the recycle station. Calgary has an archaic recycling program and it makes me sick! We have no way to recycle yogurt containers and other plastic. Today I threw out a laundry detergent bottle, because the recycle station won't take it. I caught Marty trying to stuff a plastic salsa bottle into the milk jug slot. Do you know what the fine is for putting items that don't belong into the recycle slots? It's alot, that's all I know and though it pains me to throw that stuff out, we can't just shove it in the wrong hole or the truck won't take any of it at all! I don't mind recycling this way, it if is how I can do my part here in the city, but when I see what my mom's county does to recycle it makes me feel ashamed! Mom's county has provided each resident with an inhouse recycling station, EACH RESIDENT!!!! The "station" consists of waist high, stainless steel canisters, each with a seperate compartment for storing different recyclable materials, everything from plastic, to paper to carboard. Each resident was also given a "green box" for storing bio-degradable waste, a stinky, moldy, yet environmentally friendly idea! Throwing things out at Mom's house requires some thinking and remembering so as to get things in the right bin, but this extra effort is a small inconveniance in comparison to the difference they are making in their county. It wasn't always like this,over recycling, under recycling, there was a time when there was NO recycling! Those were simple days and I have good memories of them. Take the Dump, for example. Our family used to take all unburnable trash to the dump. Trips to the dump were adventures Aim, Nic and I looked forward to! On "dump day" we'd load up the blazer (the same faded yellow truck we used to pull the horse trailer,) with the trash, the stuff that fit into cans, and often stuff that didn't. Then the three of us girls would pile onto the front passenger seat together, dad would hop into the driver's seat, the am radio would get turned on, the windows would get rolled down and we'd leave the driveway chanting loud enough for mom to hear from the porch "to da dump, to da dump, to da dump, dump dump dump!" This was our time with Dad and we loved it. The fact that our quality time was spent en route to a dump didn't take away from the specialness of it at all!! Dad would back the blazer up to one of the huge holes in the ground at the dump and the three of us would jump out to help throw the trash off the truck, but not before investigating for treasures. That's right, the dump was one of the best places to treasure hunt. I can't remember leaving the dump one single time without taking something home with us from there. We all three got our first 2 wheel bikes from the dump. Dad retrieved each one from the bowels of the bins, a true testament to the fact that one man's junk is another man's treasure! We knew that by the time Dad was done with each bike, it would be perfect. Add some spokey dokes and streamers to each bike and sparkly yellow banana seats wrapped in duct tape, slightly bent frames and scratched paint suddenly become invisible! A few years back, I went with a friend to a dump near a lake community. This place was a jack pot and I couldn't help, but think about how much Dad would have loved this place! This dump was where all of the rich cottage owners threw out their trash. I got several planters from there and even a set of golf clubs, complete with the bag end a couple covers!! In those days, you could freely take whatever you desired from the dump, you didn't have to sign or even pay. You could just go, dump your stuff, take anything you wanted and leave. It was a simpler version of recycling, maybe not as effective, but definately simple! I've gone to the dump a few times with mom in her county and now, not only do you have to pay to dump stuff, but there's a dump nazi (that's what we call him) who makes you back up perfectly in front of a specified bin and ensures that you DO NOT take anything home from the dump!! Going to the dump with Dad just wouldn't have been the same had it been hindered by sooo many rules! I am glad for my happy dump memories, and I wonder if I will, one day, be able to make getting my kid's first bike as fun for him as dad made getting mine, for me? I guess the dump will be out, do ya think a garage sale will have the same feel?