Litter in Skaneateles

Yet another lid from a tin of Grizzly Wintergreen smokeless tobacco, not to be confused with Kodiak, Timberwolf or Husky. Somebody out there appreciates, and litters, this value-priced dip.

One Fritos bag which encouraged me to visit Camp Fritos where I could win Coleman Gear, but it was a false hope because my “cabin number” was not an instant winner. One crushed Pepsi can, one purple Skittles wrapper, one ballpoint pen from Mohegan Sun Resort and Casino (the world’s second largest casino!). A fragment of a SpongeBob SquarePants label on the lawn of Village Trustee Martin Hubbard; this looks like it came from an item of clothing, so be sure to compliment Trustee Hubbard the next time you see him sporting new SpongeBob togs. And the big winner, on East Lake Street, one cardboard wrapper from a free sample: Trojan MAGNUM Large Size Condom made by Church & Dwight of Princeton, N.J., bearing this instruction: “If you don’t need this free sample, pass it on to a friend who does.” I would think you would need to be really, really good friends to know if this jumbo item was an appropriate pass-along.

“You must be the change you want to see in the world.”

– Mahatma Ghandi

At the carnival rides in Austin Park, two Mountain Dew cans, one Pepsi can, one Pepsi bottle, one green t-shirt (left draped over a railing to dry), two dirty plastic bags, Wrigley’s Spearmint gum wrappers and a crumpled shopping list: “8 canola oil, 8 cases gal, 24 doz 3/10 sport 12, 1 case confectionery sugar, 6 cases napkins.”

On the way to work, one Pepsi bottle, two Bud Light cans, one Brisk Lemon Iced Tea can, three water bottles, one sleeveless black top, one cardboard carrier from a six-pack of Dannon Fit & Light yogurt (Strawberries & Cream), and twenty feet farther on, the lid from the first tub — party on, Skaneateles — and at the foot of Andy Ramsgard’s driveway, one Winchester 12 gauge shotgun shell, spent. Hey, if Andy tells you that new addition looks nice, you’d better just nod and smile.

Walking home, a black plastic bottle that held 2-stroke motor oil (thank you, lawn service), one Bud Light can, a Snickers wrapper, a Snyder’s of Hanover Pretzel Sandwiches bag, random bits of cellophane and plastic, one lid from Grizzly Long Cut Wintergreen smokeless tobacco; about 6 inches of a Riverside “Big Worm” in black rubber guaranteed to fool any bass on Route 20; one “Support Our Troops” yellow ribbon magnet that probably fell off the van about the time the Pentagon supported our troops by extending their tours in Iraq and Afghanistan to 15 months — for another 3 months in harm’s way — as if calling up Reservists and Guardsmen to active duty and sending them into combat wasn’t warmly supportive enough; and one tire weight which reminded me of a villain in some crime novel, perhaps by Elmore Leonard, who cast his own bullets from tire weights because they made for a dirtier, heavier load.

This evening in Austin Park, one Gatorade bottle, a wet plastic Post-Standard bag, and yet another golf ball, this one a Titleist 7, PRO V1 392, with a two-color Welch-Allyn logo, “Electronic Vital Signs.”

On East Lake Street, one 2001 U.S. quarter dollar, a 25-cent piece celebrating Vermont (1791) and showing a figure tapping a maple tree as the sap begins to run. Since my cousin, Chuck Winship, makes maple syrup over at Sugarbush Hollow (http://sugarhousesyrup.com/index.htm) in Springwater, N.Y., I found this to be doubly pleasing. It brings my littered cash total since 1998 to $53.07.

This evening’s walk was documented by Sam from Pomona, who followed us around Austin Park and photographed the various treasures left behind today. It was mostly bottles (Pepsi) and cans (Pepsi) and scraps of plastic at first, a Fritos Honey Barbecue bag, a dripping pack of Ken’s Golden Italian Dressing, a drink lid and straw, Old Gold cigarette pack, about 10 cellophane sleeves from juice box straws, one pack of Bugler Original cigarette papers from the folks at Lane Limited in Tucker, Georgia — but down by the carnival rides we hit the mother lode, a luncheon scene left intact, as if the diners had been interrupted by The Rapture — food wrappers, McDonald’s bag, napkins, paper towels, fruit juice bottle, Kool Aid Splash bottle — and a purse dump: a contact lens case, several plastic makeup containers, makeup sponge, hair tie, a crumpled up note with some basic addition in dollars and cents, and six tampons still in their white wrappers. Apparently, items you do not need in the Hereafter.

Our thanks to litter scholar Claire Wilkinson of Skaneateles for this photo, taken by her at the Matterhorn in the summer of 2006, showing people made from trash picked up off the mountain, no doubt inspired by German action artist HA Schult who in 2003 created a massive installation of Trash People in Zermatt (www.haschult.de/trash.html), as he has since at the Great Wall of China and the Pyramids. The artist notes, “We live in the trash time: we produce trash and we become trash. Therefore HA Schult’s ‘Trash People’ are images of ourselves.” Thank you, Claire, for broadening our litter horizons.

In Austin Park, the carnival rides have arrived, and with them, a new wave of litter. One cheeseburger wrapper from Burger King emblazoned with the words, HAVE IT YOUR WAY. Crushed styrofoam cup, torn juice pack. I did notice two bags of trash neatly wrapped up; my thanks to those who are gathering.

On the way to work, one temporary tattoo, made in Taiwan, an image of either an eyeball with lashes or a bird with feathers and a really big eye. Also, one generic black ballpoint, the worse for wear, and a shiny silver grommet.

One golf pencil from the Buccaneer in St. Croix, a challenging, 18-hole, par 70 course, 5,810 yards, designed by Bob Joyce in 1973, known as St. Croix’s most scenic, with sea views from 13 holes.