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A prediction: a new kind of resource mine…

As long as I’m out on a limb about picking up litter, I might as well venture out far enough to break the branch. (Some of my friends see this blog as lunacy so why not try to attain certifiable craziness?)

My three wheel push cart and I are often seen at a local municipal golf course, Renaissance Park. It was built atop an old landfill and there are pipes atop the dirt covered mountain of trash to syphon off the methane gas.

The bushy mound behind the green at Renaissance Park is the top portion of a landfill that completely filled a valley floor. The land was reclaimed as a golf course. Will there be further reclaiming in future years for this municipal golf course?

The bushy mound behind the 9th green at Renaissance Park is the top portion of a landfill that completely filled a valley floor. The land was reclaimed as a golf course. Will there be further reclaiming in future years for this muny?

There’s a lot of time to think as I chase errant shots and one thought occurs to me on a consistent basis: ‘What will we do with all this trash?’

Just think of what we’ve purposefully buried. Decades of plastic and other potentially recyclable materials. All just lying there amid organic materials long since decomposed. With shelf lives of hundreds of years – if not longer – that’s a hell of a lot of resources that have gone to waste.

As mankind eventually runs low on fossil fuels, we will be forced to prioritize – oil for transportation vs. oil to make products. (Knowing us, we’ll want it both ways.)

So here’s my prediction: Renaissance Park and every other dumping ground for our wasteful cultures will become rich new mines of resources we can’t do without. Entrepreneurs or governments will figure out that the very thing we need is right under our noses. What was covered with dirt will be uncovered.

Who knows, maybe they’ll find Jimmy Hoffa, too.

About Dave Bradley (264 Articles)
I was a writer by trade so one would think letters would come easily for me. It is so now, but wasn't always that way. Indeed, the first letter was written the Monday after Ellen started her freshman year in college. For years I've wondered - with no good answers - why I swiveled my office chair toward my computer screen to fire up a word processing document for that first letter. I just don't know. I just did. Perhaps it was the angst of separation or wanting to say things that had gone unsaid at that moment when we parted ways in front of her college dormitory. What was a one-off became habitual. When her brother Reid enrolled in the same college, his name was added to the salutation line. They were kids then and are adults now. No matter. The letter writing habit remains so today. I live in Brevard, North Carolina. I'm well away from where they live and don't see them nearly as often as I'd like. That's why letters, at least to me, fill the void of distance. The pages give me something to say and the space to say it. There is no assurance they read the letters; indeed, I have never asked if they do so. With the pace of their busy lives who could blame them for letting a letter sit unopened? Over time, it has dawned on me that the letters are both communicative - and cathartic. By nature, letters are about the writer; the writer can only write about their situation. Perhaps that is as it should be. It's all about the here and now from one person's perspective.

1 Comment on A prediction: a new kind of resource mine…

  1. Reblogged this on Melanie Bennett and commented:
    Very nice pic, Thank you

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