Forest plus Tupperware.
GIGO: n. Computer Science: An informal rule holding that the integrity of output is dependent on the integrity of input. Origin: 1965–70; g(arbage) i(n) g(arbage) o(ut).
I approached my neighbor about a month after our move. “Kim, what day does our garbage get picked up?”
“You know,” she answered, plonking her hands on her hips, “We were just talking about that. I can’t figure it out. I think I’ll go on and call the city and find out.”
Later that day, she told me our garbage pickup day was Friday. A secretary at the city service department, who just happened to be the organist at her church, had been certain of it. If Virginia said it, you could be pretty sure it was true.
But the little truck didn’t actually arrive until Monday morning. And then it showed up again on Thursday.
I should have known right then that we were in trouble.
Moving from midtown Atlanta to this semi-rural area has been quite an adjustment for me. Relative to where we live now, Atlanta is a huge metropolis where city services work most of the time for most of the people and generally run in a very regimented way because of the large numbers of units that must be serviced for anything to work at all.
Suddenly I found myself living on the outskirts of a tiny town whose population is one five-hundredth the size of my former city, where units are not serviced, but the trash is picked up at Beth Ann’s house on Thursdays — or on Tuesdays, or whenever we feel like getting to it, as the case may be. Add to that the fact that we purposefully chose a place in a charming little hidden hollow, tucked away on a one-way lane that disappears completely under its coating of russet leaves in the fall, and I sometimes felt as if I’d fallen off the edge of the earth.
As with every dramatic change in one’s point of view, the experience has had its positives and negatives. To give an example, I think it’s cool to know my mailman’s name, and to have known him well enough to notice when he went missing for a few days, and to be able to learn quickly through the local grapevine that he’d had an appendectomy over the Christmas holidays and was recovering his health rapidly. (Paul is fine now and back to his regular route, in case you’re curious.)
I love the fact that I’m surrounded by nature and that there are so few streetlights that we have a Great Horned Owl living in the woods beside our bedroom, and can be serenaded through the open window with his evocative calls after dark.
And I’m certainly under no illusions that an Atlanta-based landlord would have let F. dig up portions of the front yard to make me a kitchen garden and let me set up a compost operation near the back porch — or would have readily donated mulch for my pathways, loaned us his rototiller, complimented my handsome zucchini bushes, and carted away our Christmas tree to be sunk in his friend’s large pond, reborn as fish habitat as it decomposes under water.
So there are lots of positive aspects to life here. Still, some things are not ideal.
About once a week — give or take — a small white pickup truck comes tootling down our lane, its narrow bed packed with garbage bags, several large city garbage receptacles wedged against the back window of the cab. The truck stops before our house, where both men clamber out of it and empty our trashcan and recycling bin.
Regular garbage trucks cannot come down here. They’d never fit past the first tight squeeze of tree trunks, for one thing, and if they managed, they’d never be able to turn around and lumber back out again.
The first time that I witnessed the arrival of our special garbage truck was on a Tuesday morning a few months after our arrival, quite early in the day. Both men got out, and one proceeded to toss our trash bags into the open garbage-bag-filled portion of the bed, while the other proceeded to… toss the contents of our recycling bin into the same place.
I was so stunned I stood on our front porch with my mouth soundlessly opening and closing, much like a landed fish.
That moment to me meant that all of our carefully rinsed and separated recycling had been thrown into the landfill as if we’d never done anything at all — for three months.
I rang the city services that afternoon and was told they’d send out a pamphlet. We were probably just not following the rules properly.
So we attempted to follow the rules to the letter. I stood anxiously on my front porch the next pickup morning… and watched the contents of the recycling bin end up with the rest of the stuff destined for the landfill. Of course, this time I was not paralyzed by shock, but came running out into the front yard to confront the men. Barefooted, if I remember correctly.
It became quickly apparent to me that both men were developmentally challenged individuals, perhaps considered ideally suited to this work. The best they could manage was to hand me another pamphlet. When I tried to point out that everything in the recycling bin was exactly according to the pamphlet, using the convenient little bullet points arrayed on the page, one of them stared at me with his mouth slightly agape, and the other man shrugged laconically.
As you can imagine, I was upset.
Gum in the works.
I made another phone call, redoubled my efforts at producing the world’s most perfect recycling bin, and stood on my front porch for several days in a row, anxiously awaiting a garbage pickup date that seemed to change according to the moods of some capricious Greek god. When the moment of truth finally arrived (a rare Saturday manifestation), I stood on my front porch watching like a hawk.
The men got out of the truck, together emptied our trash bin, and then the driver climbed into the back to open one of the heretofore unused trashcans sitting up against the cab. The plastic lid swung back on a huge hinge, and the man on the ground carefully lifted our recycling bin up and over the edge. Then both men turned and looked at me, as though checking their memorization of an exotic bit of choreography.
I gave them both a timid smile. All was well.
That was over a year ago now.
Sigh.
Last week, F. stayed up for one of the infamous all-nighters that seem to be expected of doctoral candidates. Our computer had been faithfully running calculations for over 48 hours, and the crucial results were expected to be spit out by at least 3:00 a.m. So he just happened to be standing at the window early Monday morning, contemplating the meaning of his latest graphs, when the little white truck trundled into view.
Both of the men got out of the truck, and one threw our garbage into the bed of the truck… while the other threw the recycling into the bed of the truck. As he swung the bin up and over the edge, a lone, crumpled aluminum can fell onto the ground by our mailbox. The man graciously picked up this single can and tossed it into the recycling container in the back of the truck, and then they both climbed back in and drove away.
My morning got off to a very bad start when F. told me, and I stayed in a funk about it for days. What really bothered me about it was that one person could ultimately make the difference. This is a nice, feel-good mantra we like to recite in our culture: one person makes a profound difference.
But what if one of us is doing her part, recycling and attempting to reduce her carbon footprint, and one other person stands at the narrow point of decision, further along the chain, and decides whether that action makes the good impact that was intended? Believe me, as I pondered it occurred to me that I had no idea what had happened to all of that recycling I saw disappearing into the truck in Atlanta.
All it would take would be one person, one careless or lazy person, one thoughtless person, one person in a hurry, or perhaps one person whose I.Q. points don’t add up to average, one person who is vindictive or angry or just plain can’t be bothered, one person who blindly ignores the science… and my whole effort could be for naught.
Which is why I am so glad F. and I have focused our environmental efforts exactly where we can be sure of results, and long-reaching results at that, with profound implications for the future of our civilization and our planet. In “g.i.g.o. part two,” I’ll discuss what we’ve chosen to do to try and live more “green,” and why. We’ve done a lot more than just futilely fill up our recycling bin, and I hope to tell you all a bit about our journey, what worked for us and what backfired spectacularly, and the ways in which we intend to make our efforts count even more this year.
Oh, and I’d love to hear your suggestions for an appropriate response to what F. witnessed. Neither of us was present at this week’s pick-up, so we have no further information. I’m struggling with what I ought to do.
Of course part of me is outraged enough to start a letter-writing campaign to the local newspaper, and part of me wants to call and complain bitterly and at length. But I’m really not sure that the men in question are mentally capable of grasping what is going on, and this is a tiny town where everyone knows everyone else. Certainly, they are known. These may be some of the few jobs they can hold in a town of this size. And it’s not as if they deal with the waste from a huge number of houses; locations this difficult to service with a standard garbage truck are few and far between.
There is a dump, only 20-30 minutes’ drive from here, which accepts home recycling. I’m not sure if the emissions from our car would be worth it, and that’s not to mention how little I relish the idea of adding an hour’s drive to each week of my life for the remainder of our stay here.
I’d love to hear your creative ideas for handling the situation.
All images in this post were taken this morning in the woods that surround our home, all in easy walking distance. The litter becomes obvious during the winter, so now is the time when we attempt to clean up whatever we find. Frankly, the task seems endless. And some of it is impossible to reach, like that pictured in the first photograph, because that stretch of forest is privately owned and aggressively defended by barbed wire, signs warning trespassers, and a cranky old hermit with a firearm.
In the warmer months, these eyesores are hidden by the luxuriant green undergrowth.
PDF 
The view of the beautiful trees is beautiful (trash exempt from this comment). Your write so well about your triumphs and struggles. I would recommend maybe writing your newspaper. Undoubtedly many other residents are having the same problem and would get on the bandwagon, so to speak.
Noelle/azplantlady´s last blog ..Awakening to Spring
Thank you, Noelle. Agreed about the trash. I think I will write a letter, because the worst that could happen there is that the issue stirs up a local hornet’s nest and makes people think.
I’m not sure that many people around here care too much, to be honest with you. I’ve been told by at least three locals flat-out that the whole climate change thing is a hoax perpetrated “by the left,” whomever that is supposed to be. There are very few recycle bins in use, even on the main, easily accessible thoroughfares. Our bin did arouse our neighbors’ curiosity, enough to begin friendly conversations – and now two of them have got bins (which get dumped along with ours). Not sure how long it will take to change opinions in a major way around here.
Meredith, I wonder what it is about rural life that makes trash collection such an important focus? When I first moved to Poland, I discovered that to get my trash collected, I had to hire a local private contractor to do it. They couldn’t get their trash truck up my dirt road, so I took my little bag of trash down to the end of the road each Wednesday where they picked it up. For this, I paid $10 a week! I don’t remember how long it took me to discover that most people in town don’t have their trash collected; instead, they pay $2 a year for a permit to take the trash to the town transfer station, which turns out to be an important venue for social interaction. I am also a stickler about recycling and I often found the recycling options at the transfer station a frustration. They did a great little area labeled “waste not, want not” where you could leave just about anything you thought someone else might be able to use; but the only paper they took for recycling was newspaper and the only plastic was milk jugs. Suddenly this year, they went from hardly allowing me to recycle anything to MANDATORY RECYCLING
Jean´s last blog ..Favorite Garden Books: Beautiful Madness
Jean, I had to visit your blog again to double-check you meant Poland, Maine, LOL.
I was thinking I’d totally missed something very important along the way. 
$10 a week is pretty high, but I’d pay it to know my recyclables were being recycled! I love the story of the seemingly overnight switch to mandatory recycling — it gives me hope.
Meredith, this story made my heart hurt a little. It’s sad and frustrating when you feel like you’re trying your best to do your part and one person keeps screwing it up for you. Are there any other places near you that will allow you to place your recycables in their recepticles? Perhaps a local business owner who shares your love for the environment? What about the school at which F. is studying?
alisha´s last blog ..March in Rhyme
Alisha, you know it made my heart hurt, too.
I had not thought of carting the stuff to F.’s university before; it seemed obvious once you said it. We already take our shiny paper recycling there (like magazines). What a great brainwave! They’ll only take aluminum cans, plastic bottles, and paper. But it’s a wonderful start, and he already goes there multiple times a week.
I would probably save and bring to the recycling plant myself every couple of week or so (I know that will end up being a lot)! I get upset when our janitor adds my carefully saved paper to the regular garbage. I’ve argued with her before and she keeps telling me “it’s OK”, (she doesn’t speak English, so i’m not quite sure what she means by this). I keep trying to hold on the my recycling bin (thinking I’ll just take the stuff somwhere else) and she literally takes it from me, smiling, saying it’s ok. ho hum. Difficult issue you raise.
Wendy´s last blog ..Got a crush on cochineal (not)
Wendy, I can imagine your frustration. “It’s OK” indeed! It is a difficult issue here in pockets of the United States. What’s weird is that everywhere I’ve been in Europe, recycling is so automatic that shirking one’s responsibility is shameful, and in Canada, we’d have been fined if we did not recycle properly! I don’t get why we’re so far behind…
I’m going to add one more complication to this discussion. Like Wendy, I’ve had the experience at work of having paper I carefully segregated from the trash just added to the trash by the custodian. It turns out that recycled paper is collected from the college by a local non-profit; and when the price they can sell it for drops lower than what it costs them to collect it, they stop taking it until the price goes back up. The critical point here is that recycling only works if people buy products made from recycled material, and this is especially a problem with paper in the U.S.. So, if you really want the recycling system to work, in addition to putting your paper in the recycling and trying to make sure that it really gets recycled, when you buy paper products (printer and copier paper, greeting cards, notebook paper, toilet paper, paper towels, paper napkins) look for those made from recycled paper. (The key words on the label are “post-consumer recycled”.) If your local stores don’t carry recycled paper products, request them.
Jean´s last blog ..Favorite Garden Books: Beautiful Madness
Jean, you have added another layer to this that I’d never even thought of. I do buy greeting cards, printer paper, and paper towels made from post-consumer fiber, and we’re in the process of quitting paper towels altogether, replacing with rags, dishcloths and cloth napkins… but I buy a lot more fine, first-round paper than that (notebooks and books, to name just two that spring to mind). And I don’t think F. is ever going to want to switch to recycled t.p.; he says it’s like going back to the version he knew and loathed in the communist era.
This sounds like one of those “work around” things that shouldn’t be like that, but it sounds as if you have done all you could with the parties involved in your garbage pick-up. My mind flashed to the garbage center near my sister’s little vacation home in Clay County, North Carolina where there is no garbage pick up at residences. You drive up and tell the person in a little shack how many bags you have. A little net attached to a long pole emerges and you drop your money in based on how many bags you are bringing in. I was astounded by how well organized it is when you drive further into the garbage center – with recycling area carefully set apart.
I would definitely write a letter to the newspaper though – just to get your neighbors thinking about how important recycling is.
Lynn´s last blog ..Parcel, transition and orange goodness
I think you’re right about that, Lynn. I suspect that we’ll end up checking out the local garbage center options, and just saving our recycling until it would fill up the trunk of the car, to minimize trips. Although Alisha’s idea of taking some of it to the university may also work for the majority.
The letter seems to be universally favored.
Dear Meredith, Your pictures, sadly, make for very depressing viewing. Why is it that people the world over behave in this totally irresponsible and anti social manner?
Edith Hope´s last blog ..Miss Otis Regrets She’s Unable To Lunch Today….
I know, Edith, and I hated to do it. You know I like to focus on the beautiful and the positive as much as possible. And yet… I also want to be honest, especially on a topic of such importance. It is anti-social to litter, and I could do a whole post ranting about that — but I think I’d be preaching to the choir.
Well written and heartfelt. Is there a way you could take your recycling to a neighbor that has the “regular” garbage trucks (and crews)? Of course that doesn’t solve the bigger problem. That might take more effort to change the way the garbage is handled. And after living in a small town for 25 years, I know that change is not always welcome or appreciated. But then again, one person CAN make a difference, and maybe it is time for a change.
FWIW There is no pickup of recycling items in our town. We take them ourselves, but thankfully it’s only a 5 minute trip to the recycling center. We generate so little trash anymore we just take that ourselves too. The recycle center charges $1 for a large bag of trash – which gives a monetary incentive to generate less trash, as well as a moral one.
On a lighter note, I had to chuckle when I saw the definition and origin of GIGO. I can remember learning the concept in 1971 in my freshman CS101 class in college. It was true then and true now!
villager´s last blog ..Asian Greens
That is also a good idea, villager, except that I don’t actually know any of the few on the main street nearby who put out recycling bins. Perhaps this would be an excuse to finally meet them.
We’ve minimized our trash quite dramatically with the combination of composting, recycling, and trying to purchase as little as possible and local, unpackaged goods when we do buy. It’s amazing what each of us can do — as long as we’re not thwarted.
Glad you liked my reference to Gigo. I wondered if anyone would recognize it!
What a thought provoking post!
Thank you, Mama Zen.
Hi Meredith
I too suggest writing a letter to your local newspaper. There must be others who feel the same way about the local environment. Over here its the opposite – our council are very pro recycling. We get fined if we don’t recycle.
The letter seems to be the way to go, judging by consensus. I think the fines if one doesn’t recycle are very common in Europe and Canada, Rosie, and I’m not exactly sure why we’re so backward (although I could make some guesses).
What a shame that something so simple should become so complex. It’s sad when people use the earth as a huge garbage can and even more upsetting when a municipality treats it the same way. I would continue to call the city and and see if there might be a way to get around it – perhaps have a pick-up location that can be accessed by a regular garbage truck and recycling trucks on a specific day. I wish I had more helpful suggestions.
Talon´s last blog ..Breathe…
I like your new icon, Talon.
As for treating the earth like a garbage can, I personally think our entire civilization is complicit. However, I think I’m done calling the city. Trusting that they would respond and retrain and supervise their employees is what got a year’s worth of recycling lost in a landfill… I think it’s time for me to take action and not count on them to do their part, sad to say.
That photo makes me want to go mushroom hunting. Wait, I already wanted to go mushroom hunting. This pen on my desk makes me want to go mushroom hunting…
Also, I thought this post was going to be about letterboxing from the title. It’s sad that it isn’t — mainly because it is sad your recyclables kept getting thrown away! How frustrating!
Eliza´s last blog ..How to Teach Beginner Organic Gardening in 15 Minutes
LOL, Eliza. My lamp makes me want to go plant potatoes… but it’s too wet outside to disturb the soil. Perhaps I should go mushroom hunting, too.
Thanks for the solidarity. I’ve never heard of letterboxing.
How tremendously frustrating. We’re rural here too, but I have to say, our garbage and recycling services are rather impressive. As 80-90% of what we dispose of is either compostable or recyclable, I’d be livid if I saw that happen here. Maybe contact City Services/Mayor’s office in writing, and threaten a newspaper expose. Because many landfills are close to capacity, at least here, there are state mandated requirements for the reduction of recyclable wastes in the landfills. If you have such rules where you are, it might pay to go higher, to the departments setting those regulations (and controlling funding for the landfills). I hope this can get resolved, permanently, for you soon. In the meantime, perhaps save your recyclables, and drop them off at a collection facility personally if there is one near you.
Curbstone Valley Farm´s last blog ..The Orchard is Planted
That’s our situation, too, CV. Most of our garbage isn’t garbage per se, but recyclables or compost. Luckily, we’re in control of the compost. I was livid the first time around; this last time merely depressed me. I felt utterly defeated.
However, we are going to look into doing it ourselves. It seems to be the only way to get the results we want.
That’s a tough one. I take my recycling to the local landfill, which happens to be about 5 miles away, and sometimes wonder if they don’t take those bins and throw them in the landfill too.
Sweet Bay´s last blog ..Ongoing Projects: Part III, the Vegetable Garden
Sweet Bay, you’ve grasped exactly what I was trying to say. Even if those men put it into the containers on the truck as they ought, how do I know that some person further along the chain doesn’t just toss it all away? Sigh.
The only thing I can tell you, Mer, is that I am not at all shocked. I was actually more shocked to learn that you were leaving it out for pick-up at all. I would never have guessed in such a rural area that recycling would even be an option. Since moving here, we have had recycling pick-up by a separate truck, (I waited and watched to make sure). But this is the first time. For the previous 5 years, I separated, bagged, and drove the recycling to the center and put it into the individual containers. Sigh. A lot of work, but the only way for me to have the satisfaction of knowing my efforts weren’t tossed in the landfill. Sorry this has happened, but you may have to bite the bullet and take it there yourself. I usually went about once every three weeks. The stuff stacked up, but I could usually fill my car to the brim to make the trip worthwhile.
I suspect that’s what we’re going to do, Heather. We’ve discussed it a little more since this post, and it’s probably the easiest way. Isn’t it sad that our communities don’t care enough to take responsibility for doing this correctly?
Great post. Letter writing might help but as you said, I’m concerned that the workers really don’t grasp the job due to their disabilities. If you could make a run once every couple of weeks. Although that is a ways away you could look at it as your bimonthly adventure!
We don’t have curb recycling but we do have trash pickup. However, after we received several nasty letters from them about the way I was filling my trash cans and then they decided that they’d give us one HUGH container that was hard to cart down to the road, we decided to discontinue their service. I take my trash at $1 a bag and our recycling to the recycling center a couple miles down the road. I was already going there every couple weeks recycling. Just adding the bag or two of trash doesn’t cause much more trouble. The guys there are friendly and always comment on how heavy my bags are. “Dead body or diapers?” he asked me the first time. No – cat litter! We compost most of our trash but can’t cat litter.
Good luck and let us know what happens.
Lynda´s last blog ..Blackberry Cobbler
I’ll be sure to let everyone know what happens, Lynda.
I think the bottom line for me is that the workers do have limited understanding and deal with a very minor portion of the local residences, probably a tiny fraction of all of the houses, and this is why I feel sort of bad making a stink about it. What if they should lose their jobs? Perhaps I ought not to be worried about them, but I’m well aware of how our society does not care for those with mental disabilities or illness, and if they should fall through our very frayed and shoddy social net because I wasn’t willing to take care of it myself… I don’t know, it’s tough.
Hello Meredith, that sounds like a very dispiriting experience so far – so you might not have the energy for my suggestions, which ifs fair enough! I tend to agree with CV to write to the city/municipality instead of the paper at this stage (that could come later) asking for a written response. You might note your conern for the worker’s in the letter and pose it in terms of ‘what training and support do they get?’ with a clear statement that you don’t see them losing their jobs as the solution. Do you have an environmental agency in the state that could advise/support you – put pressure on the city on your indirect behalf?
Another thought, which is a bit more of a long term ’round about’ approach, is to get local schools onside. If you have links with the local school community you might be able to share with them your passion for recycling and sustainability and then see if the school will ask the city for an educational tour/talk about what they are doing with recylables. A bit complicated I know, but I’m thinking it (or a variation involving interested neighbours who recyle too) might help the city see recycling as something they can crow about to their community rather than head for the confrontation.
Heidi´s last blog ..Rose Diary. A Parasitic Wasp That is a Friend to the Roses.
Dispiriting is the right word, Heidi! That’s a very thoughtful way to go about contacting the city. I’ll have to consider it.
As for the schools, it’s so funny you mention that, because I had decided that wherever we next move, I will try to get involved in a local school’s organic garden/green living/sustainability project — or campaign to start one if none exists. Here in rural areas, the schools are more agriculturally aware than I’d realized, because it’s a facet of everyday life for so many. I do hesitate to get involved with no children of my own, but I love the idea of introducing a child to the wonders of the Earth and how we can participate more beautifully and gently in Earth’s cycles.
I thought about this, with some back corner of my brain, and I came up with this: At least one of these men is mentally sharp enough to have been granted a driver’s license. He has the ability to make the thousands of decisions needed to drive a truck without with either killing himself, or anyone else. Is that’s true, he’s got to have the ability to discern between trash and recycling.
Maybe it’s an issue of being unmotivated and unsupervised, after all.
Lisa´s last blog ..A Sunset Bee
I wondered about that, too, Lisa, in some corner of my brain. But I’m also wondering how to correct it. Any supervisor would have to drive behind their truck and watch as it navigates these tiny back roads and hidden corners of the rural landscape, and they’d see they were watched and act accordingly. In retrospect, I’m sure this is why they fixed it after I complained: they saw me on the porch watching and adjusted their behavior accordingly. Terrible to say, but there it is. And any checking on them will be obvious; it’s not a job where one can watch surreptitiously for quality control.
I definitely think “unmotivated and unsupervised” tops the list of reasons for this travesty. I’m still under the impression their mental handicaps are quite dramatic (which makes me wonder how easy it is to get a driver’s license — or if that’s an act designed to elicit sympathy and/or escape rebuke).