Trash Talking
I recall certain vignettes of my childhood remarkably clearly. I mean I remember right down to the tiny details, certain moments from when I was five years old. Playing Go Fish and marbles with the neighborhood kids. Hanging out in the mysterious hollow in the woods behind Michelle Shadeed's house. Swirling in my circle skirt. entranced by how it would stand straight out. The pink crystal bracelet I got for my birthday.
But just had a sudden realization that I have no memory whatsoever about what we did with our trash when I was kid. I suppose we must have had a garbage man, but I don't remember ever seeing him or even moving a trash can to the street. Heck, I don't even remember where we kept our outdoor trash can. Weird.
posted by Libby Spencer @ 12:20 PM
4 Comments
4 Comments:
It was a metal can in the corner by the screen porch and kitchen window.
Dad took the trash to the dump on Saturdays in the old truck - that's what all the guys did.
We didn't have so much packaging and we didn't waste so much stuff so we never had the amount of garbage we have now.
Of course. Now that you reminded me I remember it. I even recall going to the dump with Dad once. I think it was on the road that led to that shopping center where the McDonalds was.
Yes it was over by McDonald's. Not actually on that road but it was a road that looped off Rt 6 called Plumtrees Rd. Dad picked up several of our bikes at that dump.
Wow. I can't believe you remember the names of the roads. I can't even remember the names of the roads around here. Then again, I've never been good with names and dates, but I can recall the faces and the places in intricate detail.
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