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4 minutes of fame and a fitting celebration…

The late Andy Warhol once wrote “In the future everybody will be world famous for fifteen minutes.”

I got four minutes yesterday. WFAE (90.7 FM) ran a short piece on my efforts to keep my pathway clean and clear of litter. I appreciate that host Duncan McFadyen was a good sport about trekking my route with me and chronicling what transpires on my walks.

This morning's full bag before the ceremonial dumping out on the driveway.

This morning’s full bag before the ceremonial dumping out on the driveway.

The residue of the post-dumping. What started out as a celebratory walk was tempered by the sheer volume of what was along my route.

The residue of the post-dumping. What started out as a celebratory walk was tempered by the sheer volume of what was along my route.

So, how does a very minor celebrity celebrate the on-air segment? Why, heading out again this morning to do it all over again, of course. And today was yet another bag-buster so my language, on frequent occasion this morning, was quite a bit saltier than what Duncan heard during our walking interview.

I appreciated the 4 minutes public radio gave to help promote the cause; I don’t need the other 11 minutes. Yesterday was enough for me.

If you haven’t heard the segment, here’s the link: http://wfae.org/post/charlotte-mans-mission-keep-his-path-litter-free. Feel free to pass it along to other environmentally-minded folks.

 

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.

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