Last summer, I made the trek from Oregon to eastern Oklahoma to clear out my mom’s long-time home so that we could sell it. Two weeks ago, my partner John and I, travelled to the San Juan Islands to clear everything out of the small vacation home his family has had for 65 years. I may, at a later date, write about the profound mix of emotions in these generational journeys going through a lifetime of a loved one’s belongings, but in this piece, I wanted to focus on the contrasting story of stuff.
My mom’s home was located in rural eastern Oklahoma. We had helped her move to Arizona into a small apartment near my brother and she had taken very few of her things with her. Her late husband had been something of a hoarder and my niece and her two little kids had lived with my mother for six years. The niece had many challenges including a lack of cleanliness, to the point of leaving dozens of used diapers and rotting food stacked in the garage, on the deck, and around the house. The place was packed and filthy.
In planning how to handle this huge job of removing stuff I had asked numerous sources about recycling options. Most were just indifferent when they said there weren’t any. Some seemed a little puzzled by my question. With no recycling options in eastern Oklahoma and the nearest thrift store thirty miles away, my only real option was a dumpster. I dragged everything that was still useable, which was a lot of stuff, out into the yard and put up “Yard Sale Make Offer” signs. I didn’t want to take the time to put prices on everything and actually deal with a yard sale.
Yard littered with stuffed animals, dishes, baby clothes, elderly lady clothes, furnishings, lawn tools, vinyl records, and on and on, I started throwing stuff into the commercial-sized dumpster. Fortunately, even though the area is fairly remote, it’s something along the lines of “yard sale capital of the nation”. People got especially enthusiastic when I told them they could pay whatever they thought fair for whatever they wanted. I figured anything that didn’t go into the landfill was a victory.
How that honor system yard sale panned out is a story unto itself. Some colorful characters showed up to be sure as well as a lot of people who left me feeling very grateful for the relative wealth and abundance in my own life. Most people paid a bit for things. Some overpaid intentionally, I think. A few came back several times. I kept throwing stuff into the dumpster including mounds of plastic bottles and aluminum cans, paper, cardboard, baby toys, pots and pans – all recyclable or reusable and yet all headed to the landfill.
Eventually, two of my friends showed up to help and we soon filled the dumpster and had to order a second. Word got out and the yard sale became a bit of a feeding frenzy with people even climbing into the dumpster to retrieve things I’d chucked in. On the one hand, it left me feeling a bit sad for them, and, if I’m honest, awkwardly uncomfortable; on the other, I was glad the items were going to be put to further use.
In the mix were two refrigerators and a deep-freeze, all filled to the brim with food, some of it rotting. I planned to deal with that nasty job last by throwing the food in the final dumpster. My friend, astutely but quietly said, “Cyl, look at these folks, maybe they would want the food.” I put the word out and in-a-flash an older woman in a stained pink and green cotton dress and her small granddaughter were clearing out the fridge in the kitchen. Later, an older man, accompanied by a younger man and woman asked what I planned to do with the refrigerator/freezer in the garage. I told them if they could deal with the food and haul it out, they could have it and they did just that.
In the end we filled two and a third commercial-sized dumpsters. I estimate about a third of the stuff was either reusable or recyclable.
The final morning of the herculean job, I awoke angry. I was angry at my family, and the relatives who didn’t show up to help as promised. Likely some of the anger stemmed from family things long past bubbling in my subconscious. I was also just angry at the people there who were so indifferent to Mother Earth. I was angry that all the fireflies were gone. Angry at the desecration.
Nearly one year later John and I were on Orcas Island, clearing six-plus decades of family belongings from the cabin. John’s parents first found and fell in love with the place in 1959 and the family had visited there many times a year since. His parents slipped from physical form a number of years ago but the children, grandchildren, cousins, friends continued to enjoy it right up until this spring.
Now, the old cabin is falling apart and would require a major overhaul and the children are themselves at an age that make the maintenance challenging. So, the difficult decision was made to let the place go and John and I spent the better part of a week clearing out the cabin, deck, and little metal shed.
John’s parents hadn’t had much money starting out, so they furnished the cabin with pieces they’d created. A long table constructed from a wooden door attached to black iron hairpin legs had abutted the main window overlooking the ocean for all the decades. The hours of eating, writing, and nature-gazing it supported are incalculable. John’s father fashioned the couch from plywood, metal brackets, shorter hairpin legs and cushions upholstered by John’s grandmother. His dad had also made a wooden chair with graceful curved rockers and rounded armrests worn smooth and polished from several generations swaying, reading, laughing within its gentle motion.
My beloved John is a gentle and sentimental soul and I knew this task was going to be emotionally challenging. I hoped there would be a way to give away some of the furnishings, dishes, etc. rather than just chucking it all in a dumpster and was surprised and delighted to learn about the Orcas Island Exchange.
On an island there is no mythical “away” to throw things so all the waste must be shipped to landfills in the Pacific Northwest. In an effort to minimize the waste and expense, in the early 1980s a group of community activists created a waste reuse and exchange center. Staffed by an array of local characters, The Exchange became a community meeting place, an inspiration for artists, and even a tourist attraction. More importantly, it kept a lot of material out of landfills and was a source of affordable goods for local people. All profits were donated to local charities.
In 2011, San Juan County announced it wanted to stop managing solid waste. Fearful that a big garbage corporation would take over the Orcas Transfer Station and evict The Exchange, the board of directors decided to respond to the County’s request for proposals and in 2012, The Exchange/Orcas Recycling Services negotiated with San Juan County to take over management of the Orcas Island Transfer Station. Over the years there were a few setbacks, but in 2017, the group re-opened The Exchange.
When John and I got to clearing his family belongings, the first thing we did was check in with The Exchange thrift store, which was able to take many of the chairs, small dressers, dishes, the aquarium that John and his son had used to catch and examine sea creatures, even a stack of colorful, weathered nylon rope – the Exchange worker explained that local artists often use old rope for various creative projects. Next was to deposit all the recyclable which included everything from glass, paper, cardboard, and some plastics, to scrap metal, partial cans of paint, and even an old tire and rim. Finally, the remaining items were taken to the transfer station to get loaded to go to a landfill. Even there however, Exchange workers told us we could set anything that might be reusable to the side so that people could take them if they liked. We had taken apart the old table John’s dad had made from a door so that we could recycle the metal legs. The worker said to set the door to the side because someone would use it for something.
Sadly, the old couch made from plywood and grandma’s upholstered cushions was a bit too far gone. As it got lifted by a backhoe, John wiped his eyes and muttered, “sad”; I told him not to look.
On the way home the following day, John noted that it had lightened the emotional toll knowing that so many of the things would go on being useful to someone else. For me, the contrast to my throw-away culture experience at my mom’s place was profound. The Orcas Island Exchange stands in direct opposition to the throw-away consumerism of our culture and it eased my mind to know that at least in some places things and materials are viewed more as resources than waste and are handled from a consciousness of stewardship. Given that on a finite planet containing nearly nine billion humans, there is no mythical place of “away” to throw our trash and toxins, the Exchange should serve as a model and template rather than an exception.
P.S. In researching for this article I learned that the City of Eufaula Landfill had been declared a Superfund site due to hazardous wastes potentially harmful to human health and the environment. You can’t make this stuff up.
Life with Livvy (AKA The Amazing Livvy Lane!)
Olive and I continue to have a blast growing our agility skills. One of her newest tricks is “say your prayers”. She puts her front feet on my arm and tucks her head under my arm (she’s really just looking for a snack under there but she’s getting more patient holding the pose until it comes). In addition to being plain fun, this move is a good stretch for her before an agility run. Here we are “praying” for a good run.
And here is a pic of us in action. I love this shot because it shows me smiling at her, respecting her effort, and having fun right in the midst of the action and competition.
Team Olive recently had a very big event, which I’ll share in the next post.
Much love,
Cylvia
Loved this one Cylvia! I will find it helpful because I am very sentimental about stuff. For example, I find it super hard to throw away a photo because I picture it buried in the dump not breaking down for eons. We will try to give away and recycle and to work with someone kind and who cares while we discard the heartbreaking stuff! Thank you! (Say your prayers Livvy.)