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An atypical two bagger … bless the Swedes … and my political endorsements are …

In baseball parlance, a ‘two bagger’ means the batter has hit a double (the late Harry Carey used to baptize Chicago victories with a lively “Cubs win! Cubs win! Cubs win!” This isn’t a post to pay homage to the World Series champion Cubs, but it is worth noting 5 million Cub zealots showed up for the Cubbies victory parade on Friday.).

From my non-Chicago Cubs perspective, a two bagger is just that: a hike that fills two plastic grocery bags.


Such was the case on this Saturday morning. Problem was, I only took one bag with me. But as is so often the case – indeed, on virtually every walk – a bag found hung up on a low lying shrub or tree. Those often come in quite handy.


I dunno but maybe trash-heaving crazies thought they’d emulate the endless stream of junk of the political season. Whatever it was, today’s walk went into overdrive through the midway point of a chilly mid-40F morning.

Perhaps the Sunday morning will be less bothersome volume-wise, but experience has taught me to not hold my breath.

The Swedes import trash as a power source as it puts it to the U.S.A. in recycling

Credit to my friend Tom B. in Chicago (no, this post is not a cheap ploy to mention Chicago at every turn) for pointing out that Sweden is essentially one-upping the U.S. when it comes to a virtually trash/litter-free country.

Turns out the Swedish are so good at recycling that a scant 4 percent of its national waste goes to landfills (vs. a grotesque 55 percent in the U.S. according to National Geographic). What the Swedes don’t recycle is burned as an energy source for heating and cooling.

But as with every feel-good environmental story, there’s something of a catch.

Sweden is running out of material to burn; thus the northern country is forced to import garbage from other nations to fuel it’s heating/cooling scheme. In Oslo, for example, waste-to-energy officials are mulling the idea of boating trash from the garbage-bloated U.S.


Hmmm. I wonder what the Swedes would pay for my trash?

“I’d like to take some from the United States,” said Pal Mikkelsen, in his office at a huge plant on the edge of town that turns garbage into heat and electricity. “Sea transport is cheap.” Mikkelsen was quoted in the New York Times.

Heck, I’d cut a deal with the Swedes for the trash I scoop up if there’s a buck in it.

I endorse Hillary Clinton for President, Roy Cooper for North Carolina governor, and Debra Ross for U.S. senate

This won’t amount of a hill of beans voter-wise, but I’ve endorsed Democrats for high elective office. My endorsements address only the environmental positions of each candidate.

Hillary Clinton. She’s been a staunch advocate and supporter of a cleaner nevironment. She acknowledges man-caused global warning as a real threat. She’s garnered endorsements from major environmental groups whereas Donald Trump thumbs his nose at the assemblage of overwhelming scientific fact that points to warming and sea level rise.

Roy Cooper. His opponent, Pat McCrory, has steadfastly coddled his former employer, Duke Energy even after company coal ash pits leaked tens of millions of gallons of toxic ash sludge into the Dan River. McCrory’s PR machine has gone into the ‘he’s done all he can to punish Duke’ spin mode, but the fact of the matter is Duke is dragging it’s muddy feet when it comes to finding a workable solution to its coal ash problems.

Debra Ross. She is also a supporter of a better environment. Her hapless opponent, incumbent Richard Burr, flippantly denies the science of global warming and is hyper-cozy with business interests that have no interest in public safety and environmental improvements.

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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