Oh, Rubbish!

No matter what the weather—hot, rainy, cold—I would not want to be a garbage collector. I’m talking trash, not the type of garbage people spew from their mouths, though neither sounds appetizing.

The noise and pollution from the truck, the assortment of smells, inclement weather, and steep hills make me wonder why anyone would want the job. Yet we have five different garbage-hauling companies throwing stuff into their trucks on a weekly basis.

Why do so many companies vie to collect our refuse? Because it’s profitable! My junk is sort of their treasure.

As a Neighborhood Watch block captain for 11 years, I sometimes serve law-related services. But other times I serve as a complaint department.

“Auntie,” they say, “what are you gonna do about all these loud, disturbing, stinky, polluting garbage trucks on our street? Why can’t we have just one?”

Good questions.

So I went to work. I talked with my waste collector’s sales rep, and she came up with rates for my 41-household street. Once presented to my group, however, I learned that people didn’t want to change—even if it meant saving money.

Resistance to change was due to loyalty. Loyalty! Being loyal is so important to this old auntie, so I wasn’t sore for spending all that time on our trashy project.

Neighbors had made their choice to employ a particular company and over time found them reliable and considerate. One service knocks on their customers’ doors if their garbage hasn’t been set out. Another will search in the backyard to find the garbage cans!

Even I have left cookies and cheesecake in containers with utensils hanging in plastic bags from my tree for my hard-working guys, because I appreciate what they do.

It would be great, however, if our City would direct specific waste collection companies to pick up in specific areas. It’s the eartha thing to do!
(Puzzle piece number 20 of 38.)

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

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Hear My Plea

I know you’re going to think I’m a children’s health fanatic.

Well, I am. I believe that’s where it all begins. You teach your kids to say no to sugar. You guide them through foods, teaching them the vitamins and minerals contained in each, and in the long run, you both reap the benefits.

I live in Colorado Springs, and on page 1 of The Gazette (June 24, 2008) are two little kids covering their ears, indicating their pain from hearing stock cars racing. First, I find this a ridiculous sport. Second, it’s a waste of energy. Third, racing pollutes an otherwise quiet environment. Fourth, even adults should use ear protection in the presence of excessively loud continuous noise. Fifth, and most important, children should not be allowed to attend these events!

Stock car racing, or motorcycle contests, or any gathering of way-too-loud PA systems should be a clear sign to parents: Don’t include your children on such deafening circumstances. Dear God, why would a parent want to ruin their child’s health? I shot trap for years and have regretted the decision to not wear muffs or earplugs.

I was at a beer fest downtown many years ago where a music group had the volume on their speakers unnecessarily boosted. I stress unnecessarily, because people from several blocks away could have heard the sound. Up close and personal, it was unreasonably distorted.

A young attendee with his toddler son were standing in front of the band, the young boy covering his ears. I looked at my friend and said, “That’s it!” I walked up to the dad and furiously shared a child-care tip with him, to which he replied, “Man, it’s okay. I take him to a lot of groups, and they’re a lot louder than these guys.”

I told him I was contacting the police. He left.

When I first moved here and saw blue smoke emitting from vehicles, my first thought was, That person obviously has no kids, or he’d fix his car. How would that guy like inhaling his exhaust for a few hours?

Irritated is a mild word to use on the way it affects me.

If a parent must take his child to an overbearingly loud event, give the kid shooting muffs. Please?

And please turn off your car when you’re not moving it.

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

If you like it, link it!
http://auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2008/06/hear-my-plea.html

Babies and Boundaries (Illegal Immigration)

(Puzzle piece number 9 of 38.)
Imagine knowing you are not welcome somewhere, but you decide to go anyway—like crashing a rival frat party. Your determination is so strong to get in that you don’t give a rat’s tail what people think. They may look at you with disdain, distrust, and disgust, as if you’re some kind of alien, but hey, maybe you’re used to that.

Your goal is to get in and see if they’ll notice. If they do, maybe they’ll even like you, yet looking in the mirror makes you wonder.

After you’re there, maybe you can make some exchanges and take advantage of freebies, like food, a T-shirt, some liquor, maybe even a place to stay and have sex at no cost, except maybe a social disease, which you probably already have.

When you get in, maybe you’ll just blend in with zillions of others who somehow made it past the door. And at the relative rate of reproduction, you’d fit right in. Yet the ones who were invited see you for who you are and don’t respect you or the way you handle yourself.

They don’t like your polluting the air with your smoke, from your mouth or your car, and tossing cigarette butts and waste out your window. You just don’t care about the environment, inside or out, and they start to mistrust you.

And since very few like you have been educated to understand there is a limited supply of sustenance, including water and clean air, others dedicate time and energy to have you removed, like refuse.

Unfortunately for everyone, after you sneaked in, you lacked self-control and irresponsibly used zero contraception, so now a baby’s on the way. And soon, maybe another, knowing your history. No one taught you to read or to think.

Who’s going to take care of all these babies? you ask yourself. Are you going to lay the blame on that party you sneaked into? “Yo, looky here. You left the door unlocked and now I got a kid. Here! You take it! We got plenty more of these back home.” Back home.

Do you have the wherewithal and the desire to change?

You can sneak into Free Land, but once you foul yourself and our environment, where then will you go? Oh, right. You’ll be dead soon or we’ll be feeding, clothing, and housing you in one of our prisons.

So don’t worry. Be scared.

copyright © 2008 by Auntie Eartha. All rights reserved.

If you like it, link it!
http://auntieeartha.blogspot.com/2008/02/babies-and-boundaries.html