Roanoke Times Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc. DATE: TUESDAY, April 16, 1991 TAG: 9104160350 SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: B3 EDITION: METRO SOURCE: BRUCE TAYLOR SEEMAN LANDMARK NEWS SERVICE DATELINE: CHESAPEAKE LENGTH: Medium
And so, on almost every Sunday, the family packs into its four-door 1990 sedan and tools around Western Branch, searching for curbside throwaways. It's a ritual of ecology.
"We've all got this mind-set that it's humiliating to look through someone else's discards," said Fuller-Thornton, a middle-class wife and mother of three. "But it's recycling, that's what it is."
For Fuller-Thornton, 31, and her husband, Thomas Thornton, 34, the scavenger hunt for suburban junk is just another way to save the Earth. A piece of trash saved, they say, is a piece of trash not burned or buried.
"If everybody pulled stuff off trash piles, we wouldn't need landfills," she said. "We're just such a disposable society. . . . When your toaster breaks, you don't fix it. You throw it out."
Even before the Thorntons began exploring neighborhood trash, they carried solid ecological credentials. They faithfully recycled household trash and shunned heavily packaged products such as frozen dinners.
But curbside reclamation is clearly her latest passion. She gets tips from a favorite periodical: the Montana-based NADDUM News, published by the National Association of Dumpster Divers and Urban Miners.
So far, the sidewalk trash piles have turned up numerous discoveries: a metal desk and antique bed, a clothes hamper, a brass fireplace screen, several pairs of roller skates, an old wind-up phonograph and appliances.
Some have been repaired and sold. But the family's biggest incentive is not profits. It's mostly for the environment and the fun of it.
"It's kind of a nice way to end the week, on Sunday afternoon, riding around with your family," said Thornton, who works at a local diesel engine company.
The Thorntons embarked on a recent Sunday odyssey with 4-year-old daughter Corey asleep in the back seat.
They follow strict rules against picking up toys or bikes, which youngsters sometimes mistakenly park near the trash. And they like to revisit certain neighborhoods that have been fruitful.
The Thornton's older daughters, Crystal and Annie, sometimes join the expeditions. But lately, Rosemary said, they're staying home.
"They sit back there and moan," Fuller-Thornton joked. " `Mom, don't stop here! We know these people! I'm gonna die!' "
The pickings were slim early in the afternoon, mostly sacks of household trash, grass clippings or brush from spring gardens.
About an hour into the trip, they found a pile worth stopping for. It was a heap that held branches, a mattress, an old chandelier, a picture of an owl and industrial-sized light bulbs.
The Thorntons quickly found their treasure: a brass trash can, a rusted but usable set of ratchet wrenches and two flag pole holders.
Minutes later, the search party returned home, and the girls who waited behind were suddenly interested.
"Whatcha get?" asked 11-year-old Crystal.
Fuller-Thornton set the booty down in the yard.
"Oh, wow," said 10-year-old Annie. "You got a trash can."
"Yes, that's for you," Fuller-Thornton said. "But wash it out first."
by CNB