Stop Being Rude to the Planet!
©2016 Kari Carlisle
A little boy cries uncontrollably abut people who are “being rude to the planet” by littering and turning forests into roads. He wishes he were an adult now so he could yell at people and maybe even call them a bad name.
The video went viral this week, and if you haven’t seen it, watch it here.
I can really relate to this little boy. It’s so frustrating as someone who enjoys recreating outdoors to see so much garbage littering the land. I know the planet’s problems go deeper than that when you consider all the more pervasive and dangerous pollutants that we, and nature, are exposed to. But garbage is visible. And everywhere.
When I was in sixth grade, my favorite class was science because we actually got to do experiments and learn by doing, not just reading about it. I don’t remember the parameters of this particular assignment, but I remember making a diorama that depicted pollution. Like the boy in the video, I felt strongly about the dangers of pollution 40 years ago.
My sixth grade brain was probably heavily influenced by the now iconic “crying Indian” commercial on television, depicting a Native American man moved to tears by people throwing trash out of a car window.
Sorrow and anger. Powerful emotions, aren’t they? But do they spur you to action?
A few years ago, my husband and I took some visitors to a lake near our home. It’s a nice place for a short hike, we told them, still learning ourselves where good hiking spots were since we had only been in our new home a few months.
As we hiked, I looked with fresh eyes at the area. No longer did I see a beautiful lake surrounded by colorful mesas. There was garbage everywhere I looked. And not just typical fast food garbage. It was dangerous. Broken glass, mainly, but also diapers and other unmentionable sources of bacteria. Things I did not want to even wonder what they were and where they had been. Things you definitely don’t want your children or your dogs getting into.
I was saddened, yes, and angered. More so, I was embarrassed. And this is what spurred me to action. The lake became my mission. Nearly every day I walked the trails around the lake with grocery bags and nitrile gloves, filling sometimes three to four bags each trip.
At first my goal was to pick up the most dangerous (to my dogs) items on the trails. Once I felt safer, I couldn’t stop. I continued picking up all garbage I could find along the trails. After a few weeks, I seemed to be making a difference.
Once the garbage on the trails was gone, I ventured further and collected any garbage I could see from the trail. The more I wandered, the more garbage I found, and suddenly it seemed as if the mission would never end. Weekends were the worst because obviously the lake was a local party spot, and there were areas that I could not get cleared of the constant influx of garbage.
After months of pursuing my personal mission, I was literally recognizing individual pieces of garbage. These were the “low priority” pieces that I vowed to someday pick up after I got control of the “high priority” garbage.
I knew I was making a difference. I was making a huge difference. I even suspected that others were started to pick up garbage because I was noticing some pieces were gone, you know, the ones I “recognized.”
But one day I gave up. I had picked up garbage several times a week for nearly two years. Yeah, I made a difference alright. Why did I give it up?
Picking up garbage had become the mission. Not the hike, not the scenery, not the enjoyment of being with my husband and my dogs. I was obsessed.
When my dog, Jack, got sick, my mission turned to him. When Jack passed, my mission turned to caring for my other dog, Samantha. When she passed a few months later, my mission turned to all the other things in life that needed attention.
Now, I have two more wonderful dogs, River and Simon, and they are now my new mission. We’ve taken them a few times to the lake. I see the garbage and wonder if I will ever return to my obsession.
Then a miracle happened.
A few weeks ago, we took the dogs to the lake and started hiking. Almost immediately, we noticed. There. Was. No. Garbage. None.
We were shocked and amazed. Everywhere we hiked, the garbage was gone! Who did it? I don’t know. But it’s a wonderful thing, and we were in bliss.
Today, the constant influx of new garbage creeps in to the lake trails. I think, someday, again, I will be spurred into action. In the meantime, please,
Stop Being Rude to the Planet!
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A little boy cries uncontrollably abut people who are “being rude to the planet” by littering and turning forests into roads. He wishes he were an adult now so he could yell at people and maybe even call them a bad name.
The video went viral this week, and if you haven’t seen it, watch it here.
I can really relate to this little boy. It’s so frustrating as someone who enjoys recreating outdoors to see so much garbage littering the land. I know the planet’s problems go deeper than that when you consider all the more pervasive and dangerous pollutants that we, and nature, are exposed to. But garbage is visible. And everywhere.
When I was in sixth grade, my favorite class was science because we actually got to do experiments and learn by doing, not just reading about it. I don’t remember the parameters of this particular assignment, but I remember making a diorama that depicted pollution. Like the boy in the video, I felt strongly about the dangers of pollution 40 years ago.
My sixth grade brain was probably heavily influenced by the now iconic “crying Indian” commercial on television, depicting a Native American man moved to tears by people throwing trash out of a car window.
Sorrow and anger. Powerful emotions, aren’t they? But do they spur you to action?
A few years ago, my husband and I took some visitors to a lake near our home. It’s a nice place for a short hike, we told them, still learning ourselves where good hiking spots were since we had only been in our new home a few months.
As we hiked, I looked with fresh eyes at the area. No longer did I see a beautiful lake surrounded by colorful mesas. There was garbage everywhere I looked. And not just typical fast food garbage. It was dangerous. Broken glass, mainly, but also diapers and other unmentionable sources of bacteria. Things I did not want to even wonder what they were and where they had been. Things you definitely don’t want your children or your dogs getting into.
I was saddened, yes, and angered. More so, I was embarrassed. And this is what spurred me to action. The lake became my mission. Nearly every day I walked the trails around the lake with grocery bags and nitrile gloves, filling sometimes three to four bags each trip.
At first my goal was to pick up the most dangerous (to my dogs) items on the trails. Once I felt safer, I couldn’t stop. I continued picking up all garbage I could find along the trails. After a few weeks, I seemed to be making a difference.
Once the garbage on the trails was gone, I ventured further and collected any garbage I could see from the trail. The more I wandered, the more garbage I found, and suddenly it seemed as if the mission would never end. Weekends were the worst because obviously the lake was a local party spot, and there were areas that I could not get cleared of the constant influx of garbage.
After months of pursuing my personal mission, I was literally recognizing individual pieces of garbage. These were the “low priority” pieces that I vowed to someday pick up after I got control of the “high priority” garbage.
I knew I was making a difference. I was making a huge difference. I even suspected that others were started to pick up garbage because I was noticing some pieces were gone, you know, the ones I “recognized.”
But one day I gave up. I had picked up garbage several times a week for nearly two years. Yeah, I made a difference alright. Why did I give it up?
Picking up garbage had become the mission. Not the hike, not the scenery, not the enjoyment of being with my husband and my dogs. I was obsessed.
When my dog, Jack, got sick, my mission turned to him. When Jack passed, my mission turned to caring for my other dog, Samantha. When she passed a few months later, my mission turned to all the other things in life that needed attention.
Now, I have two more wonderful dogs, River and Simon, and they are now my new mission. We’ve taken them a few times to the lake. I see the garbage and wonder if I will ever return to my obsession.
Then a miracle happened.
A few weeks ago, we took the dogs to the lake and started hiking. Almost immediately, we noticed. There. Was. No. Garbage. None.
We were shocked and amazed. Everywhere we hiked, the garbage was gone! Who did it? I don’t know. But it’s a wonderful thing, and we were in bliss.
Today, the constant influx of new garbage creeps in to the lake trails. I think, someday, again, I will be spurred into action. In the meantime, please,
Stop Being Rude to the Planet!
Sign up to receive the Apocalypse Observer Newsletter in your inbox
www.readmota.com
To comment, scroll down and type in your comment. Under Comment As, you can select Anonymous or Name/URL (you don't need to enter a URL). Then hit Publish.
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