Pettiness, perspective, and the new urban threat

In our 21st century world, danger lurks on every corner and even in our own front yards. Actually, as that Chesapeake Virginia guy knows all too well, the danger of politically correct, meddling, small, angry, purposeless and snooping women is prevalent even in our very homes where we can no longer smoke, sneeze, or (apparently) be naked. But for many of us our homes do protect us from most harm. The same can no longer be said of the sidewalks just outside.

A new and urban threat – one that has probably been there all along but that we are now finally beginning to take note of – is accosting our neighborhoods. And it is known, officially, as The Scavenger. Why have we suddenly begun noticing The Scavenger even when we have overlooked or ignored him in the past? Because city officials have begun listening to the politically correct, meddling, small, angry, purposeless and snooping people calling them on the phone. Why have they finally begun listening to these people? Because the city is losing capital. The city, that manages to spend nine months on a project that would take me and a semi-muscular donkey two weeks to complete, has conveniently noticed that it is losing money on peoples’ trash and it would like to inform all worthy, hard-working, trash-producing citizens of the threat that is inundating their communities.

So who is The Scavenger? He is your neighbor, your co-worker, your local store clerk, probably slightly poorer than you, but perhaps slightly smarter as well. I am fairly certain I have been a scavenger, of a sort, before, only I always thought of it as picking up other people’s liter. But this truly dangerous Scavenger is not merely picking up trash thrown onto the street by people lazier and more self-centered than he. We do not call that man a scavenger – we call him a good Samaritan, even when he makes five cents off of the bottle we paid for and left lying on the sand. No, the urban threat, the true Scavenger actually goes into our garbage cans as they sit, innocently awaiting the lumbering, smog-producing, gas-guzzling garbage truck to empty them out. And do you know what this Scavenger does when he goes into your own personal garbage can? He takes stuff! He takes your own personal garbage. And do you know what he does with it? He recycles it. Bottles, boxes, clothes, all of these things that can be turned into other things or worn by people who find a sweatshirt from a garbage can better than no sweatshirt at all. The Scavenger takes all of these things that (and before you call my bluff I admit to being sometimes guilty of this myself) you should have recycled yourself. He steals your garbage. The threatening, thieving, capitalistic Scavenger steals your trash and profits from it. He sells it. He recycles it. And every two dollars here and fifty cents there that he makes, he pockets. That Scavenger grows rich off of our garbage and this is why city officials have decided to step in.

See, the city was brilliant enough to come up with an electronic trash truck capable of scooping up garbage cans and dumping trash at the touch of a button. And the city was brilliant enough to come up with a green program that divided each person’s trash into ordinary, recyclable, and organic. But the city never thought of – or was never willing to employ people to actually sort through trash and remove valuable items. I have brainstormed for some time and have come up with some reasons why the city may have neglected to do this. Here are the best ones:

1. nobody would take the job.
2. health codes prohibited it.
3. it would take too long to get the plan approved.
4. paying people $7.75 an hour to sort trash would cost the city more than it would make on beer bottles and yard sale sweatshirts (although the city perhaps forgot about Saturday nights in college towns).

So the city can’t actually gain anything (or much) from enacting a sort-peoples’-trash-by-hand plan. (The city would, of course, like to employ robots to do the job, but Arnold says we’re bankrupt and I tend to agree). Incidentally, can anyone make me a t-shirt that says “Arnold says we’re bankrupt”? The city would in fact probably lose money on the whole thing (as the city is wont to do). So why are city officials up in arms? Because The Scavengers are making money. Never mind that the reason they are doing so is because they are a one-man show and do not have to pay themselves minimum wage. Never mind that five dollars to a person who is homeless or unemployed or even me is worth significantly more than five dollars to a city fund. The city is resentful that The Scavenger is making money off of what is rightfully its own. Apparently once we place our trash in the city-approved trash bins, it becomes city property.

I suppose I shouldn’t expect much from a government. But why are ordinary citizens up in arms? The only logical and justifiable reason I can think of is because they are concerned, not about the garbage, but about The Scavenger himself who could be anybody and is probably not somebody they want their children playing with. I am not speaking for the lady who says in an appalled tone that she believes The Scavenger walked across her front yard to reach her garbage cans which she had carefully tucked behind some trees in the hopes that he would not find them. I think she is concerned about her grass and perhaps something akin to pride. Nor do I speak for the man who worries that important and personal documents will be pulled from his trash cans and made public knowledge. To him I say, perhaps he should recycle some of his bottles and use the money to buy a paper shredder. Didn’t his mother ever teach him never to throw whole important documents into the trash?

I do, however, understand the concern of people who wish to feel safe stepping out their front doors. But let’s truly consider the threat of questionable people who spend their spare time rummaging through garbage instead of, say, robbing liquor stores. This is not to say there is no threat; it is merely to say that before we stage a defensive attack on the guy with a bicycle basket full of Coke cans, we should perhaps put things into perspective. (Might I also suggest sending a camaradic* smile his direction) To help with the concept of perspective, and because I believe in the parallel between real life and art, I am including a copy of Shel Silverstein’s vaguely related poem “Hector the Collector.” I’m pretty sure Shel Silverstein was smarter than most city officials:

HECTOR THE COLLECTOR
by Shel Silverstein

Hector the Collector
Collected bits of string,
Collected dolls with broken heads
And rusty bells that would not ring.
Pieces out of picture puzzles,
Bent-up nails and ice-cream sticks,
Twists of wires, worn-out tires,
Paper bags and broken bricks.
Old chipped vases, half-shoelaces,
Gatlin’ guns that wouldn’t shoot,
Leaky boats that wouldn’t float
And stopped-up horns that wouldn’t toot.
Butter knives that had no handles,
Copper keys that fit no locks,
Rings that were too small for fingers,
Dried-up leaves and patched-up socks.
Worn-out belts that had no buckles,
‘Lectric trains that had no tracks,
Airplane models, broken bottles,
Three-legged chairs and cups with cracks.
Hector the Collector
Loved these things with all his soul –
Loved them more than shining diamonds,
Loved them more than glistenin’ gold.
Hector called to all the people,
“Come and share my treasure trunk!”
And all the silly sightless people
Came and looked...and called it junk.

*to people (or dictionaries) who would argue that my word selection here is not actually a word, I would direct you to a pin that I once read: “ENGLISH MAJOR: If I say it then it’s a word.”

-R.E.A.