pollution

I Don’t Want the Indian to Cry

I Don't Want the Indian to Cry.
Cloud formation to the south while sitting on my deck last night.

A few weeks ago as I was heading to Madison with Gidget, flying down the highway, a man in front of me in my lane opened his car door and tossed out his garbage.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I said out loud, “Did he really just do that?”  It felt so violating.

Lately with the nicer weather I’ve been getting out on more walks. Gidget comes along with me in her dog stroller.

Our serene little town of 950 explodes in the summer months due to people visiting their lake cottages, as well as the fact we are a popular tourist destination.

Along with this, seems to come more litter. I found myself complaining in my head, upset that people can just throw stuff on the lawns and streets without thought. I love our quaint, adorable village and it upsets me that others don’t respect it, too.

But then I realized today I could do something about it. Something quite simple, really.

Now when I walk, I walk with a new purpose. I pick up any garbage I see along the way. Gidget’s stroller has a nice sized pocket underneath, so it’s a great place to collect what I pick up.

And then I thought about the Indian. Remember him from the commercial in the 70s encouraging us to Keep America Beautiful?

I don’t want him to cry again– though I know well enough that large cities have their mountains of garbage lining the streets, which always makes me sad to see.

But in my own small way I can make a difference right here in my little town. So no more complaining will I do, but instead will shut up and pick up!