Saturday, April 17, 2010

1.2 Miles

Not 1,200 or 2,400 like it used to be.

Life finds me now living one and two tenths miles from the beach. Today is my second or third trip to the place where sand meats water. Since the kayaus that was my life recently has subsided I took time this visit to look, to see.

Remember back in the 70s, there was a PSA commercial where an American Indian would stand someplace and observe the trash blowing up at his feet and we would see a tear fall down his cheek?

Today I watched the tattered remains of a gallon milk jug wrestle with the surf. Ten feet out, two feet, stuck in he sand, lifted back up and taken another six feet out. Ultimately is settled on the shore, partly stuck in the sand. I'm guessing it will stay there till next high tide, then be pushed further up on shore.

Where I sit right now, maybe 20 feet from the water, there are cigarette filters galore, packing peanuts, foam coffee cup scraps, a literal plethora of plastic bits and pieces AND too many other things to mention. I know on the coasts they don't necessarily use landfills as much as us inlanders do. They use ocean dumps. Now, I don't know if the stuff here on the beach with me is just trash from last years beach crowd or if it is the ocean returning to us what is truly ours but I do know it's shameful.

I know why coastal living folks are so pro recycle. This 'stuff' is literally in their back yard.

As conservative as I am, I, personally, need to do a better job reusing the stuff that I have.

As for the milk jug...
I put it in a trash can but I can't help but wonder, will it be back?

Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

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