When is it going to happen here? When will we do something about our environment, and our cities' aesthetics?
This blight takes the form of innocent-enough plastic conveniences. If you bother to notice, you can see discarded plastic grocery shopping bags all over the place. Especially this time of year, after the snow cover melts and before the leaves come back and conceal the tangled blemishes in their branches, discarded plastic bags seem to be everywhere.
The problem is perhaps worse in urban areas, where the wind can help the lightweight trash escape from uncovered dumpsters behind apartments and shopping centers. A scene from American Beauty, parodied in popular culture by The Family Guy and on YouTube, tries to bring the problem a silver lining, but even artistry ultimately fails to put a good spin on the problem.
Vermont has a history of strong environmentalism, and has not been afraid to seek out its own direction when it comes to the best thing for its people. Vermonters enacted bottle deposits when the containers became a problem on the roadsides. We enacted Civil Union legislation to meet a need there as well. These shopping bags wind up in creeks and ditches, in treetops and on fences looking ugly and causing an environmental problem. We shouldn't just wait for Green Up Day to address the infestation.
Today though, larger cities, like our nation's capital, which face larger problems that come with larger populations are on the forefront addressing this problem, not us. We seem to have bigger fish to fry. It seems as though the Vermont legislature is working on fishing licenses and city charter changes this year instead.I suppose they are important as well.
So it is left to us, the people. We need to make an effort. We need to tell our neighbors to make the change. We need to take a stand, however quiet or refined, and say through actions and deeds that we do not need disposable bags any more. They may be easy, but they take a toll as well.
So what is the answer? We recycle. We reuse. There are lots of ways to do it. There are websites that will show you how to turn extra pillowcases and t-shirts into shopping bags. You can buy the reusable variety from the market, or from web retailers.
The question then becomes one of design and aesthetics. It is nice to show your individuality with the bags you carry. Recycling your old Duran Duran shirt would do that. You also should look at convenience and carrying ability as well.
Talking to others about the issue, the consensus seems to be that the bags should be small and convenient to carry, whether folding up to place in the shopping cart is enough, or stuffing together into a small pocket. They should be large enough to carry three cereal boxes. They should have wide enough handles to carry the weight of milk jugs. They should be washable after handling your meat, and many like the variety that can stand up on their own for easy loading and unloading.
Changing our habits is always a difficult thing to do. Whether we are quitting smoking, or adjusting our route to work because of construction, the change has to be a conscious one. This instance is no different. This is a call to reject the status quo. Say it out loud when you are confronted with the old "Paper or plastic?" question. Tell the clerk that you have brought your own. Tell them "neither". But please remember to bring your own bags with you when you go shopping, and keep the rest out of the trees and creeks of the Green Mountain State.
Showing posts with label Personal Touch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Personal Touch. Show all posts
Cars with character
Different cars have different purposes. That is the way it is supposed to be. Carmakers acknowledge it. That is why we are not all riding around in sedans. They make minivans for families, compact cars for the economy crowd, pickups for working. Each has its place.
In our household, we have taken it to another level. Sure, each of our cars is capable of carrying the whole family (thought the dog might be a tough squeeze in the old Willys Jeep). We have the family car for long trips and the pickup for odd jobs. But we also have another spot in our auto needs filled as well. The old car.
The old car is just as important as the others. It might not shine so much as the new. It might be slower, or less fuel efficient, but it is needed just the same. The old car is the one that we use when it might get a scratch on it. We use the old car when the job is sure to be dirty, when we wouldn't think of driving something we are still making payments on.
In our family the old car is my Jeep Cherokee. It is a '92, and it had lived a good life long before I bought it. Now on its second engine, it has few panels that are not straight. They still all match, mind you, but they have dimples and scrapes. Some people might look upon the dents as blemishes, but to me, they are scars, that each come with their own story. Those stories make the Jeep special.
Take the dent in the driver's door. Apparently, a family from Massachusetts sent the Jeep north with their child to school at Johnson State. They blew a motor on a quiet Vermont road, and took out their anger on the Jeep while waiting for the tow truck. That is no problem. I popped it out as best I could when I bought the Jeep (non-running for $100). Good came from that dent.
The Jeep has a mismatched headlight bezel on the left side. That came after my friend's bachelor party. We all had a good time that night, and the Jeep earned its nickname, "Lefty." The passenger's front fender has a dent from where I tapped a mean tree off-roading last year. I replaced the rockers after they dented the same way.
When I look at my Jeep Cherokee, I see dozens of fond memories in the scratches and dents. I enjoy driving it; using it; and I will enjoy denting it further. I enjoy talking to people about it in parking lots and at gas stations. It is not a beautiful thing to many people's eyes. They might need for their cars to shine, or at least not be crumpled.
I can understand it. I have a friend who has given me straight fenders for it that I refuse to put on. He spent a lot of time making his Jeep shine: fresh paint, new parts. He does preventative maintenance. I drive mine like it is stolen. It is a lot more fun from where I am sitting.
I have half-bald mud tires and refuse to buy new ones until these run out completely. I have a leaky windshield that makes it a bit musty after it rains. Fix it? Why? Chances are that I will meet a low-hanging tree branch some day. It will probably happen the day after I replace it. So what do I do? I cut out the carpets so water will drain out on its own. No musty odor, problem solved.
A friend of mine who used immigrant labor when he built his house taught me the Mexican saying S-O-C-K-S (You have to say each letter out if you ever want to use it for real). "It is, what it is," the saying goes. That is how I look at my '92 Cherokee. It is, what it is. It is old and dented, so I drive it like it is old and dented. It is freeing to drive it. I don't really worry about it much, as long as it starts and runs when I want it to. If you own an old car, you know what I mean.
In our household, we have taken it to another level. Sure, each of our cars is capable of carrying the whole family (thought the dog might be a tough squeeze in the old Willys Jeep). We have the family car for long trips and the pickup for odd jobs. But we also have another spot in our auto needs filled as well. The old car.
The old car is just as important as the others. It might not shine so much as the new. It might be slower, or less fuel efficient, but it is needed just the same. The old car is the one that we use when it might get a scratch on it. We use the old car when the job is sure to be dirty, when we wouldn't think of driving something we are still making payments on.
In our family the old car is my Jeep Cherokee. It is a '92, and it had lived a good life long before I bought it. Now on its second engine, it has few panels that are not straight. They still all match, mind you, but they have dimples and scrapes. Some people might look upon the dents as blemishes, but to me, they are scars, that each come with their own story. Those stories make the Jeep special.
Take the dent in the driver's door. Apparently, a family from Massachusetts sent the Jeep north with their child to school at Johnson State. They blew a motor on a quiet Vermont road, and took out their anger on the Jeep while waiting for the tow truck. That is no problem. I popped it out as best I could when I bought the Jeep (non-running for $100). Good came from that dent.
The Jeep has a mismatched headlight bezel on the left side. That came after my friend's bachelor party. We all had a good time that night, and the Jeep earned its nickname, "Lefty." The passenger's front fender has a dent from where I tapped a mean tree off-roading last year. I replaced the rockers after they dented the same way.
When I look at my Jeep Cherokee, I see dozens of fond memories in the scratches and dents. I enjoy driving it; using it; and I will enjoy denting it further. I enjoy talking to people about it in parking lots and at gas stations. It is not a beautiful thing to many people's eyes. They might need for their cars to shine, or at least not be crumpled.
I can understand it. I have a friend who has given me straight fenders for it that I refuse to put on. He spent a lot of time making his Jeep shine: fresh paint, new parts. He does preventative maintenance. I drive mine like it is stolen. It is a lot more fun from where I am sitting.
I have half-bald mud tires and refuse to buy new ones until these run out completely. I have a leaky windshield that makes it a bit musty after it rains. Fix it? Why? Chances are that I will meet a low-hanging tree branch some day. It will probably happen the day after I replace it. So what do I do? I cut out the carpets so water will drain out on its own. No musty odor, problem solved.
A friend of mine who used immigrant labor when he built his house taught me the Mexican saying S-O-C-K-S (You have to say each letter out if you ever want to use it for real). "It is, what it is," the saying goes. That is how I look at my '92 Cherokee. It is, what it is. It is old and dented, so I drive it like it is old and dented. It is freeing to drive it. I don't really worry about it much, as long as it starts and runs when I want it to. If you own an old car, you know what I mean.
Modern Life or the Old Ways
Technology is wonderful, except when it isn't. Modern mechanisms have been making our lives a little bit better since the invention of the spoon. Little pieces of insight and creative thinking cradle us in convenience.We surround ourselves with them and show them off to our friends. "Look at my phone!" or "The game is on the Plasma."
In a book I just read, the villain tried to detonate atomic bombs all around the globe, not to bring about nuclear holocaust, but to send out an electromagnetic pulse that would render useless anything with a transistor or circuit board. "Dear God," the President commented, "That would be far more savage than nuclear war." Maybe it would be. But that is only because we as humans living in the 21st century continue to fight for technology every day.
We fight for technology without knowing it. We say that going "paperless" is being environmentally conscious. We also notice that it will save us money on paper and printing costs. It is good, and good for us too. But what has come of the hand scrawled Thank You note Emily Post still recommends we write? Now, we are so tempted by e-mail and Facebook posts, that people actually need to be prodded a bit to take up a pen and paper the old way. Ridiculous.
There is even a growing market in Vermont for landowners to have their forests logged by ancient means. They call it responsible forestry, touting how it can repair damaged land. No, the lumberjack isn't going back to the hand saw or axe, but they are using teams of draft animals rather than giant tractors to haul the wood out. It is really quite inspiring to watch, take my word for it. Engine noise and exhaust fumes are replaced by heavy breathing and footsteps. The only down side is the view driving the team. Who really wants to stare at the rump of a horse all day?
That reminds me of a great Vermont story I heard from my in-laws a few years back. A fellow was out moose hunting on the last day of the season. He was miles from a road and shot a big bull moose. The animal weighed more than a thousand pounds. Being the last day of the season, he had to weigh it in by sundown or face a fine. He drove a 2wd Toyota pick up that stood no chance of traversing the muddy forests, and appealed to a farmer nearby for use of his tractor. The farmer said no, but offered instead his team of oxen. Those who watched it that day, and those who retold the story afterward still speak in awe of the sight of that team hauling the muddy moose out of the woods that day. They go on to laugh at the memory of ten big farm boys picking up and setting that muddy moose in the bed of the tiny Toyota pickup as well; feet sticking out one way, the antlers over the other side.
There was no need for technology that day. The old method was even better suited to the task. Those oxen left no ruts in the soft forest ground. They burned no fossil fuels (though they did release methane gas, I'm sure). They did the job the old way, and made a real impression on a lot of people because of it. Just like that hand-written Thank You note does.
So why did I mention it? Well, we are in the midst of March Madness. For the uninitiated, that means picking teams and filling out those college basketball brackets. Personally, college basketball is the one sport I do follow. I am too busy Jeeping all summer to follow baseball. Football is only good in the playoffs. College basketball gets me in from the garage at the muddy end of March. It is fun to make your picks and see how far off you really are from what really happens. Up until this year, I filled out my picks on paper. I have managed office pools, and spent hours in front of the television with a highlighter figuring out who was ahead.
This year, I tried to us technology to make my life easier. I usually embrace new technology. I have the patience to tinker my way through most of it. Not this time. Managing the brackets has always been a practice that focuses on the playing ability of the teams. This time it turned itself into a computer nightmare. It all started so easily. Click on a link here, follow instructions there. It turned into a four hour process taking up two computers and three separate e-mail accounts to see if it worked. And it didn't. Ugh!
Technology truly can be a wonderful thing. Unless you are the President staring down a threat to transistors everywhere, technology really can be a blessing. But when things don't work right, boy can it go wrong. Nobody ever had a problem with a prototype spoon that affected people the same way computers can. Nobody ever spent four hours online trying to get a piece of paper to work. With the advent of the Kindle, and IPad threatening to overtake books and newspapers, we need to remember that. The old ways are sometimes better. Whether through Thank You notes, or teams of draft animals, the old ways still can bring people together at a personal level. It is better than struggling to overcome the emotional distance that an e-mail creates.
Perhaps the emotional distance can be a good thing as well. As it is, nobody at CBS Sports knows what I was really thinking when I tried to fill out my brackets online.
In a book I just read, the villain tried to detonate atomic bombs all around the globe, not to bring about nuclear holocaust, but to send out an electromagnetic pulse that would render useless anything with a transistor or circuit board. "Dear God," the President commented, "That would be far more savage than nuclear war." Maybe it would be. But that is only because we as humans living in the 21st century continue to fight for technology every day.
We fight for technology without knowing it. We say that going "paperless" is being environmentally conscious. We also notice that it will save us money on paper and printing costs. It is good, and good for us too. But what has come of the hand scrawled Thank You note Emily Post still recommends we write? Now, we are so tempted by e-mail and Facebook posts, that people actually need to be prodded a bit to take up a pen and paper the old way. Ridiculous.
There is even a growing market in Vermont for landowners to have their forests logged by ancient means. They call it responsible forestry, touting how it can repair damaged land. No, the lumberjack isn't going back to the hand saw or axe, but they are using teams of draft animals rather than giant tractors to haul the wood out. It is really quite inspiring to watch, take my word for it. Engine noise and exhaust fumes are replaced by heavy breathing and footsteps. The only down side is the view driving the team. Who really wants to stare at the rump of a horse all day?
That reminds me of a great Vermont story I heard from my in-laws a few years back. A fellow was out moose hunting on the last day of the season. He was miles from a road and shot a big bull moose. The animal weighed more than a thousand pounds. Being the last day of the season, he had to weigh it in by sundown or face a fine. He drove a 2wd Toyota pick up that stood no chance of traversing the muddy forests, and appealed to a farmer nearby for use of his tractor. The farmer said no, but offered instead his team of oxen. Those who watched it that day, and those who retold the story afterward still speak in awe of the sight of that team hauling the muddy moose out of the woods that day. They go on to laugh at the memory of ten big farm boys picking up and setting that muddy moose in the bed of the tiny Toyota pickup as well; feet sticking out one way, the antlers over the other side.
There was no need for technology that day. The old method was even better suited to the task. Those oxen left no ruts in the soft forest ground. They burned no fossil fuels (though they did release methane gas, I'm sure). They did the job the old way, and made a real impression on a lot of people because of it. Just like that hand-written Thank You note does.
So why did I mention it? Well, we are in the midst of March Madness. For the uninitiated, that means picking teams and filling out those college basketball brackets. Personally, college basketball is the one sport I do follow. I am too busy Jeeping all summer to follow baseball. Football is only good in the playoffs. College basketball gets me in from the garage at the muddy end of March. It is fun to make your picks and see how far off you really are from what really happens. Up until this year, I filled out my picks on paper. I have managed office pools, and spent hours in front of the television with a highlighter figuring out who was ahead.
This year, I tried to us technology to make my life easier. I usually embrace new technology. I have the patience to tinker my way through most of it. Not this time. Managing the brackets has always been a practice that focuses on the playing ability of the teams. This time it turned itself into a computer nightmare. It all started so easily. Click on a link here, follow instructions there. It turned into a four hour process taking up two computers and three separate e-mail accounts to see if it worked. And it didn't. Ugh!
Technology truly can be a wonderful thing. Unless you are the President staring down a threat to transistors everywhere, technology really can be a blessing. But when things don't work right, boy can it go wrong. Nobody ever had a problem with a prototype spoon that affected people the same way computers can. Nobody ever spent four hours online trying to get a piece of paper to work. With the advent of the Kindle, and IPad threatening to overtake books and newspapers, we need to remember that. The old ways are sometimes better. Whether through Thank You notes, or teams of draft animals, the old ways still can bring people together at a personal level. It is better than struggling to overcome the emotional distance that an e-mail creates.
Perhaps the emotional distance can be a good thing as well. As it is, nobody at CBS Sports knows what I was really thinking when I tried to fill out my brackets online.
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