Saturday, May 29, 2010

More About the Dump

Yesterday's talk about the dump brought back a childhood memory.

When my brother, sister, and I were young, we didn't have trash pickup at our house. (Which is totally weird considering we lived in a subdivision in the suburbs.) My dad had a jeep and a trailer and we'd throw the full trash bags into the trailer and every couple of weeks we'd drive down to the landfill, which was about 15-20 minutes away from our house, dump our bags of trash and then he'd take us to Hilltop Grocery, which to this day still has a sign in the window proudly announcing "Live Bait".

He'd buy us each a Martinelli's apple juice, which came in a cute apple-shaped bottle, and one bag of M&Ms for all four of us to split. This was a big deal because we generally weren't allowed to have juice or candy.

We'd stand in front of the store drinking our juice, holding out a hand for our dad to pour M&Ms into. Our hands were probably filthy having just come from the dump, but back then, people weren't so afraid of dirt and no one had heard of Purell.

After our snack, we'd load back into the jeep and go home. A couple of weeks later, my dad would say, "I'm going to the dump" and we'd all beg, "Can I go to?" "I want to come."

The moral of the story is, being down in the dumps isn't always such a bad place to be when you're with the right people. Thanks for all your support yesterday.


  1. What a great story - I like it even without the moral! Reminds me of going in my dad's service truck on Saturday mornings as he made his service calls, and then getting subs and chips and SODA for lunch at the deli. And being dirty, yes. And bumping around in the back of his truck like nobody does anymore for safety reasons.

  2. When I was in high school, I went with my church group on a trip to Mexico to build houses. One of our stops was through a landfill where people were living. There were generations of families living off of what others threw out; a little village was set up, complete with a cemetery. The children's cemetery is burned into my brain - a square of dirt with wooden markers, overlooking the dump.

    We brought in soap and water, food, and fresh underwear and socks, and I wish I could have done more. What a humbling experience that was! Whenever I start to think about how unfair it is that I don't have the money to buy whatever gizmo I'm longing for, I think of the people living in the dump, the babies buried there, and my wants seem awfully petty.


I know word verification is a pain, but I'm getting a lot of spam comments, more than I can keep up with. I hope you'll leave a comment anyway. I really appreciate you reading and love hearing back from you.