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So now you know how the seed was planted. But when did it start to take root? Well..let’s see…

I met my husband in 1994, on the island of Martha’s Vineyard where I was waiting tables, the summer before I graduated from Texas Tech.  I  moved to Boston, Massachusetts about, oh, two days after graduation May 1995.  Yep, I knew right away in 1994 that  that man was THE man.  Anyway. Massachusetts is a different animal altogether. The people were different, but that’s another story for another day.  Massachusetts was WAY ahead of the recycling game by the only standards I knew, which were none, being form Texas.  (Massachusetts is way ahead of the game on many levels). We moved in together September 1996, renting the bottom half of a two-family in Newton. And with it came the garbage bin and the recycle bins. Recycle bins! Ooooh, a novelty! I’ll put some milk cartons and a few papers in there. See! I’m doing MY PART. Whatever.

It wasn’t until we moved into our own home in June 1999 and had to get a trash removal service. Our fee included recycling bins. OK. I’m game by this point. So we recycle. We separate. Tote it out to the curb every week. Done, right? Wrong.

Had my first child in 2001 and shooed that pesky, nagging worry about throwing all those disposable diapers away. Until a good friend pointed out to me that they were surprised I used them.

Once you start to think about it, this whole green thing is overwhelming. Because you (maybe not you, but I did) start to think about it when you go to a BBQ at a friend’s house and everything is served on paper plates, with plastic ware. Take out food. Pizzas that come in boxes that cannot be recycled because it has grease on it. Batteries! Old cell phone! Computers! Printers!  Ack!  I think about growing up – we ate on paper plates for most every meal. I could go on but you get it. We have all done it.

I am trying to figure out how I can make small changes that will add up over time. Maybe I can somehow wipe out the damage I have done in the past. But I struggle, with children and daily demands, to do what I think is right, and what is right for the moment. OK, fine, paper cups and plates for everyone, it’s a kid’s birthday party. Or, screw it, have an apple that isn’t organic. It looks better and, dammit, most of the time it tastes &  looks better too.

What about all that? It’s only been in the past few years that I really woke up.

This begs the question. What am I going to do about it? So. It begins.

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