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Taking my (litter) act to Brevard …

My final haul on my final walk in Charlotte. I hope someone picks up the slack (in a manner of speaking).

Apparently Charlotte didn’t generate enough trash for me to pick up (roughly 1,100 lbs. per year). Now I’ll head to the hills – literally – a few hours west in North Carolina.

For a lot of reasons – and without any hiccups at the closing table – I move from Charlotte to Brevard sometime in the next 10 days.

I’m mostly euphemistic about my litter picking up days in Charlotte. It’s been a good ride (if you like to pick up litter) in the Queen City. Brevard may be much, much smaller in scale yet from what I’ve seen at first blush, the town doesn’t quite pass the eyeball test so my trash retrieval days are far from an end. My grocery bags turned wannabe trash receptacles won’t go unfilled. That’s okay. The retrieval process is pretty much habitual for me now.


My final haul on my final walk in Charlotte. I hope someone picks up the slack (in a manner of speaking).

What it shows and tells me is litter and junk is far from just an urban blight. Lots of man-caused debris waits to be corraled along the otherwise pristine banks of the Davidson and French Broad rivers; apparently unthinking dunderheads and buffoons live everywhere.

If you’re a Charlottean, you’re excused from following my missives since the focus will shift to Transylvania County. Still, part of me hopes you’ll stick around as a reader (and at the least as a picker upper); it is high time I picked on slobs other than those who drive along Fairview, Colony, Sharon and Sharon View Roads. It’ll give me someone new to yell at.

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 Taking my (litter) act to Brevard …

  1. I’ll do my best to pick up the slack! Best of luck in your move.

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