Recycling

I hate throwing stuff out, especially if I think there is somebody, somewhere who might have a use for it.

I suppose that a small part of these feelings are driven by my worries over the environmental impact of contributing to landfills, the extra energy resources needed to fabricate new goods vs. recycling old ones, and the fear that Al Gore will show up at my home and give me an interminable monotone lecture about my despicable carbon footprint. But mostly it's just that I hate the fact that I paid boatloads of money for this stuff!

When I carried two large trash bags full of VHS tapes out to the dumpster after my memorial day cleaning project, I wasn't thinking about the toxicity of chlorofluorocarbons or noble, stone-faced Native Americans who might someday shed a tear over my decadent consumerism -- no, I was thinking "There's gotta be a couple hundred bucks worth of tapes in those bags!"

Yeah, I know, you can't determine present-day utility and/or value based on the price paid for an item (see Brian Bosworth, Mike Hampton, Reza Pahlavi, et. al.) -- after all, I've probably spent over a hundred billion dollars on Microsoft Windows upgrades alone, and what do I have to show for it? One, count 'em, one functioning computer and several trash bags full of floppy disks, CDs, and celophane bags that ended up in a landfill.

My three most powerful obsolescence regrets are:

1. My first video camera. I paid well over $3000 for it, and dreamed of making my fortune as a filmmaker, supporting myself during the formative years of my art by shooting wedding videos. And I did actually shoot a couple of weddings, but the technology improved so quickly that I was out of business before I could even pay for the 3-piece suit I had to buy to even be allowed to attend the weddings I planned to tape. The new camcorders were much smaller, worked in lower light, and cost a fraction of what I had paid for my suitcase-sized contraption. It went from state-of-the-art to landfill item in the time it takes Kobayashi to eat a hot dog.
   
   
2. My first computer. Again, a $3000 piece of equiment that quickly became nothing more than a paperweight. But I loved that machine, and learning how to use it did provide me with knowledge that helped me earn an income for many years, so I have never regretted the purchase -- I only regret that it can't still be of use to someone. The darn thing runs every bit as well today as it did the day I bought it, but (sigh) nobody needs an 8-inch monochrome screen and a word processor that doesn't know how to make italics. And since the abovementioned Mr. Gore hadn't yet invented the Internet when this device was purchased, it has no connectivity whatsoever. And so...it sits and rusts. Sad.
   
   
3. Peter Parker. Yes, I actually owned an original copy of the very first comic book that Spiderman appeared in. Pete going in the ring with Bonesaw, Uncle Ben getting whacked, Aunt May being old and frail, and Spidey swearing to never again let bad guys get away -- it's all in there. If I still had that issue, I could go on Antiques Roadshow and make a roomful of appraisers salivate. I would be the envy of all my coworkers. Chicks would dig me. I'd be totally cool.
   
   Well, OK -- some of that stuff probably wouldn't happen...but the point is that I was temporarily in possession of something that should never, ever wind up in a landfill. And yet, sometime before I became a responsible adult, it got tossed. I'm sure that this priceless treasure has long since turned into compost, and that, my friends, is worthy of several tears from Mr. stoneface landfill weeper.
   
   And since I don't remember ever throwing it out myself, I shall choose to blame my brother. I don't know if he can ever make it up to me, but a large cash endowment would be a good start, don't you think?

But stuff sometimes does need to be thrown away. What're ya gonna do?

I can't say that I enjoyed making my latest contribution to clogging Mother Nature's arteries, but I did indeed toss all those videotapes into the bin. A thousand years from now, some kid playing in a field somewhere will see something black and shiny buried in the ground, and will unearth it expectantly. He'll clutch his find to his chest, run to his mom and shout, "Look what I found! I don't know what it is, but it has writing on it! Mom, what is 'Emilio Estevez'?"

Hmm. My next project is to transfer my most valued videotapes onto DVD. That way, in another 10 or 15 years, I can take several bags of shiny silver disks out to the trash. It's the circle of life, amigos.

Hakuna Matata etc. etc. And have a great day!