THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Saturday, May 4, 1996 TAG: 9605040012
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A11 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Opinion
SOURCE: Kerry Dougherty
LENGTH: Medium: 81 lines
Like many households with school-aged children, my husband and I have recycling enforcers living under our roof.
``Why don't you shut off the water while you're brushing your teeth?'' my daughter will demand, frowning.
``Who threw this away?'' my son will shriek, peering into the kitchen trash can and discovering an errant soda can.
These two little people are the reason we will doggedly continue recycling even after the city of Virginia Beach ditches curbside pick-up in July.
I don't think we'll have a lot of company.
Last week city officials announced that they are going to cut off curbside recycling to protest an increase in Southeastern Public Service Authority fees. Bad idea. If the city is committed to recycling, if it's a matter of public policy, then it is incumbent upon the city to make recycling as easy as possible for residents.
But the city manager and mayor don't see it that way. They cheerfully responded by promising to increase the number of drop-off centers to 50 citywide.
Recycling has never been easy in Virginia Beach, and it's going to get a lot tougher.
Here's how recycling operates at our house: In a wooden bin by the back door we collect newspapers. In a bag next to the bin we collect magazines and mail-order catalogs (this pile grows faster than the newspapers during the months before Christmas when we average 14 catalogs a day). Outside the back door we have our blue SPSA bin; next to that we have a plastic cylinder where we collect the bottles and plastics SPSA won't take.
Every other Tuesday we drag our battered SPSA bin out to the curb. Later we have the excitement of peeking in to see what items SPSA has rejected. This week it was a plastic olive- oil bottle.
On weekends we load the colored bottles into the back of what car dealers euphemistically call a ``sport utility vehicle,'' but which is really just a landfill on wheels, and drive to the igloos in front of the Association for Research and Enlightenment, where we sort bottles by green and brown and smash them into the sticky, bee-infested igloos. We never wear sandals during these outings because the ground there glistens with broken glass. Often the igloos are full, so we just pile the bottles on the pavement like everyone else.
On Saturday afternoons we drive to Linkhorn Park Elementary school to shove our catalogs into the slick-paper dumpster. A couple of years ago a man's voice yelled ``Watch it'' when I dropped magazines through the slot. A new, smaller, dumpster appeared a few months later, and it doesn't look as if anyone is living in there now.
Losing curbside pickup won't make a tremendous difference in our lives except now we'll be humping all our recyclable stuff to drop-off destinations. But I suspect many people whose entire recycling efforts were in those SPSA bins will pitch their newspapers and cans into the garbage as they did before curbside pickups made recycling convenient.
There are a few groups of people guaranteed to stop recycling: those without cars, those with nice cars, the elderly, the disabled and those without school-aged children to bug them about it.
Our family will recycle because our personal recycling police demand it and because we think it's the right thing to do. But to be frank, it's an incredible nuisance.
We'll also do it because I drive a car which is perfect for hauling trash. If a little stale beer or sour wine seeps into the upholstery, no one will notice.
Public reaction to the decision has been unfavorable. Sensing this, city officials quickly added a postscript to their announcement: This is only temporary. (See Jim Spore's column on the opposite page.) They say they are studying the problem and will come up with a more-comprehensive recycling plan in the future. I hope they do. Of course, it makes you wonder why the city is investing in new drop-off centers if this is only a stop-gap solution.
I'd be the last person to sing the praises of SPSA. The nitpicking workers comb through the bins and always seem to reject petty items - like plastic milk caps, laundry-detergent bottles and olive-oil containers.
But one thing about SPSA - it was better than nothing. MEMO: Ms. Dougherty is an editorial writer for The Virginian-Pilot. by CNB