A Profitable Trip to the Dump

A walk through a metal and plastic bone yard like Fred Sanford's lot,(aka junkyard) is an antiseptic experience when compared with a visit to a landfill site. Archaeologists, those people who like to dig, haven't skipped a beat when it comes to exploring the mountains of refuse we are building in this country. Like forensic sleuths, they don face masks and take samplings at various depths to draw conclusions about our history over the past century. Shreds of clothing, newspaper and food packaging tell a lot about how people live their lives. But there are other thought arresting environmental conclusions these archaeologists share with us.
The evidence these archaeologists are unearthing is no joking matter and environmentalists have been trying to shake the public awake on the subject for years now. A few awful facts point to an impending disaster not far down the road: The lifespan of Styrofoam in a landfill, or anywhere for that matter, is to this point unpredictable. None has ever yet decomposed. A plain old soup tin takes somewhere between 80 to 100 years to disappear and an adult diaper can be found on the landfill scene for as long as 200 years or more. The poisonous truth of these numbers needs an antidote rapidly.
Why would I mention adult diapers here in particular? Diapers of all sizes currently make up about 10% of a landfill's bulk. I am a Baby Boom tail-ender and I can see the writing on the wall. The average length of time a baby wears diapers is two and a half years. Incontinence, unfortunately, becomes an issue at the other end of life's spectrum, all the while as scientific advances continue to increase our life expectancy. My son wore diapers for two years until he got fed up with them. But who knows how many years I will need to use adult diapers before all is said and done? Diapers in a compressed and oxygen-starved landfill can take centuries to finally return to dust. It is safe to distastefully project that Boomers booms-booms will be around far longer than anyone would want unless we can figure out a way to positively manage this.
Like Sanford's world, there is still a little color in garbage. At the dumping station, household, office and construction debris are assigned to color categories of White goods or Brown goods depending on their recyclability. Appliances like dishwashers and refrigerators fill the White category which is recyclable; toasters, vacuums and old computer components are placed in the Brown category and cannot be recycled. The Brown goods dumpster is the one this boy most appreciates, peering over the rail and uneager to leave. Deep thought leading to innovation must be given to this subject of nonrecyclables, both the hardware objects in the dumpster and other brown colored goods that are not as pleasant to view.
Where his ponderings and inventiveness will take this trash-attracted boy, I cannot say. But I have an inkling these trips to the dump are more significant for him than I realize. Taking my cues from him, I am conscious that we all need to pause and consider our trash with a revolutionary eye for our children's future.
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