To Recycle or Not, That is the Question

 

I have been a dedicated recycler for some while. It always seems a good idea to re-use things whenever possible so I dutifully collect paper, cans, and other reusable materials for recycling. Not everyone agrees as I have noticed when I snoop around the back doors of friends and relatives. Of course, it is an individual decision to recycle or not. Sadly, our national and state political leaders haven’t provided much help on the issue as they seem generally incapable and have too little time anyway what with the heavy demands of fund-raising. Most also don’t want to risk losing a vote by supporting something that someone, somewhere, may object to. Furthermore, the current call for no new regulations and freedom for all businesses to do whatever earns a profit, doesn’t bode well for any government emphasis on recycling. This is not true for my local politicians.

 

Our township recently signed a contract with our garbage company to pick-up recyclable materials from our neighborhood. Oh, what joy! How thrilled I was when I heard the news. It seemed a major event, on par with the Neal Armstrong moonwalk, or the news that Congress had agreed to avoid the fiscal cliff. The celebration of the contract signing went on for days, mainly from me, because managing our recyclables was an awful task AND IT WAS MY JOB. This responsibility, according to the Mrs., is a man’s job since taking care of recyclables is like handling garbage, which is clearly a man thing. Foolishly, I had never thought to argue the point.

 

The old practice BC (BC – before the contract) required that I collect and fold cardboard, sort paper, clean and pile up plastic, metals and glass, then tote the mess nearly 10 miles to the three large dumpsters for recyclables that our township provided. There, a sleeping guard would occasionally wake up and complain about everything, while me and other citizens unloaded our store of valuable, but used, miscellaneous materials. I was obliged to complete this job at least a twice per month, or more often if the pile of cardboard, cans and empty bottles threatened to overflow the garage.

  

The new contract voided the need for all that. Now, the newspaper reported, citizens would simply put their recyclables next to their garbage cans on garbage day and presto, a special recycling truck would appear and the recyclables would disappear. As simple as that, according to the newspaper. I could continue to help keep the planet clean, but with less effort. A gross simplification, it has turned out.

 

Shortly after the contract signing, a green plastic box appeared in our driveway with the letters stenciled on the side, RECYCLABLES. I proudly scooped up my new plastic box and headed for the garage when I happened to notice a little pamphlet that was entitled RECYCLING INSTRUCTIONS. I took the pamphlet to the kitchen and unfolded a three-page set of instructions that read like an income tax Form 1040.

 

“Separate white paper from colored paper.”

“Place white paper in a clear bag.”

“Remove plastic windows from envelopes.”

 “Fold cardboard into bundles no larger than 2 X 3.”

“No pizza boxes.”

“Wash glass containers and remove lids.”

“No green glass allowed.”

“Remove bottle caps, and toss.”

 Etc., Etc.

 

WHAT? The newspaper story didn’t mention any of this. This is going to be harder than I thought, especially since my boastful neighbor, who has a different garbage company, says his company gladly takes pizza boxes, green glass and bottle caps. 

 

 On the inaugural day for recycling, I carefully carried my box to the end of the driveway along with the assorted sacks for colored paper, white paper, envelopes without plastic windows, bundles of cardboard, etc., etc. Across the street sat other green boxes dutifully filled with all manner of recyclables although some had failed to use a clear bag for white paper. During my morning walk, I happily noted that most houses on my street had their green box filled, most to overflowing. Maybe the planet will be safe from garbage, I thought.

 

For some reason, the green box induced a sort of hysteria in our house. Suddenly, the Mrs. and I were recycling all manner of things, no matter how insignificant. We became addicts, searching the  house for things we could put in one of the bags allowed in the green plastic bin. Gum wrappers, used aluminum foil, brown cardboard toilet paper rolls, used paper napkins, and junk mail suddenly became discovered gold. Nothing was too small and the green box overflowed. Each of us became expert interpreting the Form 1040 and we felt real pain if the 1040 disallowed one of our finds. Soon, we quit buying wine if it came in an unrecyclable green bottle. The green box had unleased monsters in our house.

 

I noticed that things were a bit different around the neighborhood two weeks after the initial recycling spasm on garbage pick-up day. This time, only about half the houses had their green boxes at the road, but that wasn’t the worst of it. I also noticed that several green boxes were still sitting in the same place as when they were delivered several weeks earlier. Those people hadn’t bothered to retrieve their green boxes. Shame, shame, I thought. I stole one and carried it back to my garage to use for my white paper and envelopes without plastic windows.

 

Sadly, in another two weeks, there were even fewer green boxes along the road filled with recyclables. Judging from this reaction by several of my neighbors, apparently, this recycling thing isn’t going to be as big as I thought. I guess I won’t need to worry about unemployment at the dump. In fact, maybe recycling is a bad thing since it reduces the volume of garbage and we already have an apparent shortage. We overcome the garbage shortage in Michigan by importing supplies of garbage from Canada to help fill our dumps. (I always knew that Canadians were smart!) One of the benefits we Michiganians derive is constantly changing scenery as new garbage mountains pop-up everywhere with their flares of burning gas that illuminate the dumps.

 

About the time of the contract signing, I finished reading a new book about pollution in our oceans from plastic waste. (Plastic Ocean by Captain C. Moore) The author says we have begun creating new garbage dumps in our oceans. The dumps are thousand-mile long flotillas of floating plastic bits of garbage. The floaters end up in the ocean’s gyres, where the ocean currents congregate the plastic like a giant toilet, except they don’t flush. All sorts of plastic pieces are found in these dumps. One of the more common are the cast-off nets from commercial fishing vessels that find it more economical to carry caught fish back to port than cheap plastic nets. So, they dump the nets.

 

Who cares about plastic endlessly bobbing on the ocean’s waves as long as it is far away and out of sight? Unfortunately, sea-going birds and numerous ocean creatures do. Many creatures can’t distinguish between bits of plastic and food. The result is high mortality rates for many creatures in the food chain including some of our grandest soaring ocean birds who are feeding their young with plastic bits.

 

But all is not lost. One of the high points of Michigan recycling efforts is our bottle law that requires beverage sellers to take back empty bottles while consumers pay a 10-cent bottle deposit fee. That law is credited with helping keep our rivers and streets mostly free from the litter of empties lying around and improving recycling rates. Not that Michigan can claim credit for being the first to implement a bottle law. Ireland began a similar effort in 1799, so you’d have to say that progress in recycling has been slow. Efforts in the United States are mixed; we still have some 39 states that do not have bottle bills mandating payment for return of used containers. The beverage industry fiercely campaigns to defeat attempts at expanded legislation for recycling bottles and so plastic bottles continue to fill our landfills and some escape to rivers and then the ocean.

 

So back to the question, to recycle or not? I hope you’ll say yes for everyone’s benefit.