Sometimes, I just want to take a nice stroll and NOT pick up any litter.
There, I said it.
Does that make me a bad person?
Walking for pleasure is, I’m pretty sure, one of the basic human rights delineated in the U. S. Constitution. But once you’ve become a serious litter gatherer, it becomes very difficult to simply “take a walk” while keeping your hands in your pockets for the entire journey. That’s because every piece of random trash you encounter calls out, “Hey, you’re a KMB volunteer. Get your altruistic, civic-minded butt over here and pick me up!”
I know that a lot of this angst can be traced to my Catholic heritage, where the experience of guilt is a core competency. During my youth I spent so much time in the confessional that I had the equivalent of a Frequent Flyer card that allowed me to cut in line. Even now, many decades later, whenever I spend $25 on a large tub of movie popcorn I feel guilty that I’m not donating that amount to a Save the Dolphins program offering free, ocean-based catechism classes.
Of course, picking up a stray Dunkin’ cup or plastic water bottle is usually no big deal when you’re roaming the neighborhood. But what about the wet, messy, gross litter that calls for hands protected by latex gloves? It’s one thing to wear those gloves when you’re sporting a KMB volunteer vest and carrying a litter grabber; people look at you and think, “what a good guy!” However, if you’re only wearing latex gloves, they’re more likely to wonder, “is that weirdo over there a serial killer?” It’s all about context.
Part of me wishes that someone would invent special eyeglasses that render litter invisible during pleasure walks. Don’t say it can’t be done. These days, you can put on a pair of virtual reality goggles that convince you that you’re skiing down Mt. Everest. The technology is there to create litter-free viewing, but our nation lacks the will to fund the relevant product development.
In the absence of litter-concealing eyeglasses, the options for taking a trash-free walk are severely limited. One can wear a blindfold while wandering outside, but that strategy carries its own risks, such as walking into trees, traffic, telephone poles, and lakes. Strolling for pleasure should not land us in the emergency room.
Currently, the most realistic strategy for a litter-free excursion – assuming you want to do more than simply walk around your driveway – involves going to a large indoor shopping mall, a venue preferred by many senior citizens. At the Natick Mall, for example, you can carve out a route on Levels 1 and 2 that will occupy you for an hour or more.
Malls have the added benefit of inspiring reflection on some of the most pressing questions of the 21st century: Why are there so many stores selling expensive sneakers? Why is there never a KFC in a food court when I want one? Does viewing larger-than-life photos of deeply tanned, barely clad, pouty-faced 20-year-olds in the display windows of trendy clothing stores disrupt people’s hormonal cycles in ways that influence the timing of high and low tides on the Cape? This is just a sampling of the issues you’ll ponder.
To be sure, mall walking is not an ideal solution. Gazing at overpriced designer candles in the window of a gift boutique is a poor substitute for taking in the sights and sounds of a tree-lined boulevard bursting with scurrying chipmunks.
So, it’s back to the streets for yours truly. And please: if you see an oldish guy walking around your neighborhood wearing latex gloves – but without a yellow vest or litter grabber tool – don’t call the police. It could be me.
Mike Morris is a retired professor of psychology from the University of New Haven who moved to Framingham, MA in 2022. His primary avocations are satirical writing and pursuing street litter with a vengeance. His humor blog, University Life, can be accessed at https://universitylife.michaeladrianmorris.com.
