I’ve been convinced plastic is taking over the world ever since a plastic grocery bag got tangled high in my cottonwood tree many years ago. I saw it out my dining room window every time I ate for a month and a half and I eat a lot in a month and a half.
My husband got tired of hearing me complain about it so he climbed the tree and took it down. No he didn’t. But he was as relieved as I was when the bag finally flew off to someone else’s tree.
Unfortunately it was eventually replaced by another one. I’ve lost track of how many plastic bags have come and gone from our tree since then. They’re like migrating birds except they’re not as pretty and they don’t sing or eat the grasshoppers. I’m thinking of having the tree cut down.
Not really. But I do use canvas bags when I shop so at least my own grocery bags aren’t winding up in my cottonwood tree. You know what they say: If you’re not part of the solution you’re part of the problem. And if you’re part of the problem, you should learn to climb trees.
If you asked my husband, and I prefer that you don’t, he would probably tell you that I’ve become somewhat fanatical about plastic, and not just bags. I think fanatical is a strong word. I prefer to say I’m very conscientious about plastic and I happen to think everyone else should be exactly like me.
Sure, I’ve been known to snatch other people’s recyclable plastic right out of their trash cans and carry it home to my recycling bin. But only if I can’t find theirs.
And yes, I occasionally wash and reuse plastic sandwich bags, but only if they didn’t have something gooey in them first.
I wash and reuse plastic cutlery too—gooey or not. I’ve kept every piece of plastic cutlery I’ve acquired since the invention of the spork.
And yes I’ve been using the same plastic straw in my refillable stainless-steel mug since I got it at a fast-food restaurant in 2014. I was thrilled when I finally found a straw-cleaning brush for it in 2020.
I bring my own containers to restaurants for our leftovers when we eat out too. I think this embarrasses my husband. People do look at us funny sometimes. But I reassure him that it’s probably not because of the containers.
And I admit I occasionally launch into a public tirade about plastic overuse. Once in a department store I saw a display of socks hanging on little Barbie-sized plastic hangers. I must have gotten pretty worked up about it because people were starting to stare. So I quickly wrapped up my rant with, “Thank goodness I won’t have to iron my socks anymore.”
Still I don’t think any of that makes me a fanatic. I think it makes me right. And I’m relieved to know I’m not alone. I’ve found my tribe. More than 150 million people around the globe participate annually in Plastic Free July, an entire month set aside to encourage the reduction of single-use plastic. You know, the kind that’s used just once before it’s tossed into the landfill or the road ditch where it doesn’t actually decompose. It just breaks down into tinier and tinier pieces until plants absorb it and animals eat it and it works its way right up the old food chain and into our poor, unsuspecting bodies and does who knows what to our health. Ya, that stuff. It’s trouble. But at least we have hangers for our socks.
Dorothy Rosby is the author of I Didn’t Know You Could Make Birthday Cake from Scratch: Parenting Blunders from Cradle to Empty Nest and other books. Contact her at www.dorothyrosby.com/contact.