Today, being Tuesday and all, was a day for me to take Pop up to his club for the twice weekly golf games he runs.... "Pop's group" its called. Up and over that dreaded 7 Mile Bridge. Today was the WRONG day to mess with me on any environmental issue, but I didn't know there would be a little test involved.
On the way out my road today, I discovered someone had illegally dumped a truck tire on my street. No attempt to even hide the illegality of it... simply lying by the edge of the road. This was done sometime between 7pm last night and 10:30am today, because I passed that stretch last night at 7, and this morning with Pop at 10:30. Need I even say what went through my mind when I saw that? No, probably not. But, unfortunately Pop was my captive audience, and he heard a lot. I immediately grabbed my cell and called Mr. Happy Vegan. He will take his tractor down there later, and we will actually pay to have this tire disposed of. This set the tone for my morning, and it did not make me happy.
The dumped tire was the catalyst for a discussion on environmental issues Pop and I had on the way to the club. He's made a lot of progress on this issues through his lifetime, so much so that at the ripe old age of 102 he is even finally recycling. I am happy to have made this kind of progress with an individual who I respect and love so much. For quite some time Pop resisted recycling of aluminum, plastic and so forth, and we had many MANY talks about it. One day, we simply bought him a recycle bucket and demanded he use it. He does. We empty it regularly, and are responsible for tying up the cardboard, and dumping the plastic & other recyclables into our own myriad buckets here at Deer Run. But, I was still relatively unsettled by the time I was making my return trip over the bridge. Then, it happened. A traffic jam. There I was sitting in traffic for a half hour. In front of me was "the car." The car of dread I should say.
Within minutes of the jam, "the car" had its windows open, and the driver was cursing and screaming. His language was, um, colorful. His music was blaring, yet I could hear every word he cursed and screamed the whole time. I watched him smoking a cigarette, flicking ashes out the window, continuing his rant. Eventually, the event happened, the spent butt was flicked out the window onto the highway. Onto my planet. Littering. This was not good.
I sat there for a moment and watched the spent butt roll a little as the last of the smoke curled skyward. I became infuriated. I had to sit there a moment and collect myself before I made the trek to "the car." I took a last deep breath, opened my door, and walked onto the highway up to the litter. I picked it up. I walked to the offenders car and said "excuse me sir, I think you dropped this" and handed him the butt. He swore at me. Not once, not twice, but three times. He called me names, and demanded I get away from him. But.... he took the butt out of my hands, and into his car. He did not re-flick it, as I actually thought he would. I replied "I have not disrespected you." I walked away, back into my car, actually shaking from anger.
Today was the wrong day to litter on my beautiful home (not that any day is ok to litter on my home). I had his license plate written down in the event he re-flicked, or if he threatened me. He did neither. Maybe he was shamed? Embarrassed? Not likely he was either.
On my way home, I passed the giant truck tire. I stopped, popped the trunk on Pop's car, and tried to lift it. I could not. I drove home from that spot, still upset. I wonder if the man in "the car" will give a thought to today's event next time he goes to flick. I hope he does. I hope it made a difference, I'm not sure, and I won't take the bet. But, there's one less speck of litter on the road, meaning one less speck of litter to make its way within minutes into the beautiful ocean here, so one less speck of litter shall end up lodged within the throat of a turtle, ibis, heron or other magnificent creature. Or so I hope.
On the way out my road today, I discovered someone had illegally dumped a truck tire on my street. No attempt to even hide the illegality of it... simply lying by the edge of the road. This was done sometime between 7pm last night and 10:30am today, because I passed that stretch last night at 7, and this morning with Pop at 10:30. Need I even say what went through my mind when I saw that? No, probably not. But, unfortunately Pop was my captive audience, and he heard a lot. I immediately grabbed my cell and called Mr. Happy Vegan. He will take his tractor down there later, and we will actually pay to have this tire disposed of. This set the tone for my morning, and it did not make me happy.
The dumped tire was the catalyst for a discussion on environmental issues Pop and I had on the way to the club. He's made a lot of progress on this issues through his lifetime, so much so that at the ripe old age of 102 he is even finally recycling. I am happy to have made this kind of progress with an individual who I respect and love so much. For quite some time Pop resisted recycling of aluminum, plastic and so forth, and we had many MANY talks about it. One day, we simply bought him a recycle bucket and demanded he use it. He does. We empty it regularly, and are responsible for tying up the cardboard, and dumping the plastic & other recyclables into our own myriad buckets here at Deer Run. But, I was still relatively unsettled by the time I was making my return trip over the bridge. Then, it happened. A traffic jam. There I was sitting in traffic for a half hour. In front of me was "the car." The car of dread I should say.
Within minutes of the jam, "the car" had its windows open, and the driver was cursing and screaming. His language was, um, colorful. His music was blaring, yet I could hear every word he cursed and screamed the whole time. I watched him smoking a cigarette, flicking ashes out the window, continuing his rant. Eventually, the event happened, the spent butt was flicked out the window onto the highway. Onto my planet. Littering. This was not good.
I sat there for a moment and watched the spent butt roll a little as the last of the smoke curled skyward. I became infuriated. I had to sit there a moment and collect myself before I made the trek to "the car." I took a last deep breath, opened my door, and walked onto the highway up to the litter. I picked it up. I walked to the offenders car and said "excuse me sir, I think you dropped this" and handed him the butt. He swore at me. Not once, not twice, but three times. He called me names, and demanded I get away from him. But.... he took the butt out of my hands, and into his car. He did not re-flick it, as I actually thought he would. I replied "I have not disrespected you." I walked away, back into my car, actually shaking from anger.
Today was the wrong day to litter on my beautiful home (not that any day is ok to litter on my home). I had his license plate written down in the event he re-flicked, or if he threatened me. He did neither. Maybe he was shamed? Embarrassed? Not likely he was either.
On my way home, I passed the giant truck tire. I stopped, popped the trunk on Pop's car, and tried to lift it. I could not. I drove home from that spot, still upset. I wonder if the man in "the car" will give a thought to today's event next time he goes to flick. I hope he does. I hope it made a difference, I'm not sure, and I won't take the bet. But, there's one less speck of litter on the road, meaning one less speck of litter to make its way within minutes into the beautiful ocean here, so one less speck of litter shall end up lodged within the throat of a turtle, ibis, heron or other magnificent creature. Or so I hope.
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