I was watching the robo truck come along and grab our trash containers and without anyone getting out of the truck, it lifted them up and dumped them. Now that’s something. It got me thinking about when I was a youngster; we never have a robo truck or truck of any kind. In fact we didn’t have trash containers. We never even had a waste basket in the house. Why, you ask? It was because we didn’t have trash. There was nothing to recycle or throw away.
Think about that goes in the recycle bin. We did’t get junk mail. Plastic wasn’t invented yet. I can’t remember getting anything in a box, so no cardboard. If we did we would have found a use for it. There was no paper to dispose of. If we got meat at the butcher shop it would have been wrapped in butcher paper which a nice non-absorbent paper. Mom would wipe it clean and us kids had wonderful paper to do our drawings and paintings. The string that tied it up (no tape in those days for that) would be added to the ball of string to be used for whatever needed tying up later.
Nothing came in a plastic bag. If we got groceries in a paper bag, the bag would find dozens of use. If we got something in a glass jar, the jar would be used to can fruits and vegetables for the winter. If something came in a tin can, the can would probably end up in the tool shed to hold nails and screws. If not, it would have both ends cut out, the ends would be inserted, the can smashed and turn in for the war effort. If an appliance broke we didn’t throw it away, we fixed it. So you see, we didn’t have anything to recycle. There was no need for a landfill.
How about garbage? We didn’t have a garbage disposal. We had outdoor dogs and cats. We didn’t buy fancy dog and cat food. We also had a compost pile that made great fertilizer for the garden. Coffee grounds, egg shells, etc. ended up there. There never were any leftovers. Brother Dave and I made sure of that. So you see we had no trash or garbage to get rid of. It was just a way of life, so different from today.
Don Hill is a resident of Seymour. The author of two books "Ramblin’s and Recollections" and "I Remember my Firsts…", he also has served as a volunteer at the Southern Indiana Center for the Arts for more than a quarter of a century.