So you walk to raise cash, but walk away from trash

Recently I participated in a 5K walk/run to raise money for a worthy cause. After the event, the sponsors generously provided the partcipants with a lot of great food and drink. People grabbed the few available tables or sat on the ground, enjoying refreshments and socializing. As more people completed the course, they joined the crowd, until the field was filled with several hundred bodies. Soon the trash cans nearest the food tents were full, and the volunteers were kept busy emptying them.

One the perimeter of the field, I also spotted no fewer than three fifty-five gallon drums that very few people were using. These cans were in plain sight of the tables and the shade trees where people were sitting. They were perhaps twenty feet away from the central knot of people, whereas the closer cans were perhaps five to ten feet away.

Most people (the ones who didn't take advantage of the less-used cans in the first place) approached the centrally located cans, and noticing they were overflowing, added their trash to the top anyway, causing it to fall on the ground. The more conscientious of these picked up the trash and looked around for another receptacle that was less full. Most, however, left the trash on the ground, creating more work for the volunteers. (There was yet another category of people: those who left their trash on the tables or the ground where they had sat, not even attempting to dispose of it at all. But that's a whole other story.)

So, those of you at the walk/run who littered, let me get this straight. You finished a 5k walk/run, yet you were too lazy to walk a further twenty feet to dispose of your trash. Really? Hmmm. I think we need a walk/run to raise awareness about littering. Can we count you in?

So you walk to raise cash, but walk away from trash

Recently I participated in a 5K walk/run to raise money for a worthy cause. After the event, the sponsors generously provided the partcipants with a lot of great food and drink. People grabbed the few available tables or sat on the ground, enjoying refreshments and socializing. As more people completed the course, they joined the crowd, until the field was filled with several hundred bodies. Soon the trash cans nearest the food tents were full, and the volunteers were kept busy emptying them.

One the perimeter of the field, I also spotted no fewer than three fifty-five gallon drums that very few people were using. These cans were in plain sight of the tables and the shade trees where people were sitting. They were perhaps twenty feet away from the central knot of people, whereas the closer cans were perhaps five to ten feet away.

Most people (the ones who didn't take advantage of the less-used cans in the first place) approached the centrally located cans, and noticing they were overflowing, added their trash to the top anyway, causing it to fall on the ground. The more conscientious of these picked up the trash and looked around for another receptacle that was less full. Most, however, left the trash on the ground, creating more work for the volunteers. (There was yet another category of people: those who left their trash on the tables or the ground where they had sat, not even attempting to dispose of it at all. But that's a whole other story.)

So, those of you at the walk/run who littered, let me get this straight. You finished a 5k walk/run, yet you were too lazy to walk a further twenty feet to dispose of your trash. Really? Hmmm. I think we need a walk/run to raise awareness about littering. Can we count you in?

Let's Call a Truck a Truck

I recently became the proud owner of a minivan. I had no choice but to get a new vehicle because my other one finally died. We were putting more money into it than it was worth, and, as my husband will agree, we were getting tired of sharing a ride every day.

I love this minivan. It has all the desirable features I could ever want, and it's so spacious. There's plenty of room to haul the whole family, thus avoiding the issue of which kid gets to ride with which parent. Our son's friends can now join us for dinner at a restaurant without our having to take two cars. No longer do I need to decide between bringing the stroller or the bicycle. In short, it's heaven.

But about a week after we purchased it, I discovered a downside to my new mode of transportation. We were getting ready to go somewhere, and my husband hollered out, "I'm going to load up the truck." "Wait," I said, "I thought we were taking the van." "We are," he replied with a perplexed expression on his face.

With a great sigh of resignation, I saw my future. We now had two "trucks," not one. You see, my husband also refers to his Ford Explorer as his "truck." He can't understand my frustration when I ask him to call it "the Explorer" or the "SUV." I have tried to let this go, I have attempted to focus on more important issues. But just ask him, I have trouble keeping my opinions to myself.

In a way, I understand his need to do this. A few years ago he had a pickup truck. He used it to lug furniture, to take trash to the dump and to carry stuff home from the home improvement store, among other things. When the time came to replace it, we weighed our options: Should we buy a truck or an SUV? We decided that an SUV would be more useful, since it could do most of the things a pickup could if you folded down the back seats. But it was more practical than a pickup for transporting our family. (I'm bothered by the environmental impact, but that's another whole issue.)

For the most part, I think he is at peace with his decision. The thing that troubles him, I think, is the subconscious belief that a pickup is somehow more masculine than an SUV. After all, a lot of women drive SUVs, but the majority of pickups probably are driven by men. I'm curious what other men think about my macho theory. By calling his Explorer a truck, perhaps he feels more in touch with his tough-guy side, the hunter rather than the nurturer.

Okay, I get that. I can deal with it. In fact, from now on, I vow to keep quiet when he refers to the Explorer as his "truck." That said, I think I'll go for a spin in my van.

Let's Call a Truck a Truck

I recently became the proud owner of a minivan. I had no choice but to get a new vehicle because my other one finally died. We were putting more money into it than it was worth, and, as my husband will agree, we were getting tired of sharing a ride every day.

I love this minivan. It has all the desirable features I could ever want, and it's so spacious. There's plenty of room to haul the whole family, thus avoiding the issue of which kid gets to ride with which parent. Our son's friends can now join us for dinner at a restaurant without our having to take two cars. No longer do I need to decide between bringing the stroller or the bicycle. In short, it's heaven.

But about a week after we purchased it, I discovered a downside to my new mode of transportation. We were getting ready to go somewhere, and my husband hollered out, "I'm going to load up the truck." "Wait," I said, "I thought we were taking the van." "We are," he replied with a perplexed expression on his face.

With a great sigh of resignation, I saw my future. We now had two "trucks," not one. You see, my husband also refers to his Ford Explorer as his "truck." He can't understand my frustration when I ask him to call it "the Explorer" or the "SUV." I have tried to let this go, I have attempted to focus on more important issues. But just ask him, I have trouble keeping my opinions to myself.

In a way, I understand his need to do this. A few years ago he had a pickup truck. He used it to lug furniture, to take trash to the dump and to carry stuff home from the home improvement store, among other things. When the time came to replace it, we weighed our options: Should we buy a truck or an SUV? We decided that an SUV would be more useful, since it could do most of the things a pickup could if you folded down the back seats. But it was more practical than a pickup for transporting our family. (I'm bothered by the environmental impact, but that's another whole issue.)

For the most part, I think he is at peace with his decision. The thing that troubles him, I think, is the subconscious belief that a pickup is somehow more masculine than an SUV. After all, a lot of women drive SUVs, but the majority of pickups probably are driven by men. I'm curious what other men think about my macho theory. By calling his Explorer a truck, perhaps he feels more in touch with his tough-guy side, the hunter rather than the nurturer.

Okay, I get that. I can deal with it. In fact, from now on, I vow to keep quiet when he refers to the Explorer as his "truck." That said, I think I'll go for a spin in my van.

Seagulls in Nebraska?

I grew up in New York, where seagulls were a familiar sight. But in recent years, seagulls have been showing up in Omaha, Nebraska. Curious, I did some research online, and I discovered that seagulls can also be found in coastal areas of Chicago, Minnesota, Salt Lake City and inland Alaska. Apparently they will go wherever they can get a fish dinner. Who knew?

See you,
lival

Seagulls in Nebraska?

I grew up in New York, where seagulls were a familiar sight. But in recent years, seagulls have been showing up in Omaha, Nebraska. Curious, I did some research online, and I discovered that seagulls can also be found in coastal areas of Chicago, Minnesota, Salt Lake City and inland Alaska. Apparently they will go wherever they can get a fish dinner. Who knew?

See you,
lival