Litter in Skaneateles

My first Indiana Jones litter, on Route 20, one Burger King cup emblazoned with the Indiana Jones & the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull logo, a nice photo of Harrison Ford cracking a whip, and the encouragement that the bearer of the attached game-piece could win $1,000,000 * (* payable over 20 years, with no interest, i.e., with the sum in escrow and the interest going to Burger King and hopefully paying for the promotion). The game-piece, alas, was gone, as was the cola that had once graced this magical vessel. Also, a brass button from an item of Gitano Sport, a label from Poland Spring water, and a wrapper from Upper Deck First Edition 2008 Baseball cards, offering the encouragement that you can collect Historic Yankees Insert Cards for your chance to win a Yankee Stadium dream trip; no mention of having to stretch the trip out over 20 years.

One Centro Transfer from the walk home last night, telling its bearer to “Enjoy the Ride SYR CITY,” and this morning in Austin Park, one crushed ballpoint pen refill.

In Austin Park, one ZEE brand Sheer Strip, in the wrapper, from Zee Medical, a proud subsidiary of McKesson Corporation and North America’s #1 van-based provider of occupational first aid and safety products, training and services. No sign of the van. And on Genesee Street, one half of a Great 8 New York State Lottery ticket.

The trash pile is gone, and Laurie picked up the pieces the Village missed this morning, including a complete set of MacDonald’s meal wrappers. Also, a bolt and three nuts, assembly instructions for something, several plastic ties, and a Boylan Root Beer bottle cap marked 1891, but it looks newer than that.

In the wake of the Craft Fair in Austin Park, a semi-neat trash pile, awaiting the Village’s pleasure. Also this morning, a baseball hit by the mower, and a fragment of a Combos wrapper indicating the contents were “the cheese filled snack of NASCAR.”

In a find of historical significance: one Callaway Golf 3 ball, marked “Big Bertha,” an allusion to a German howitzer of World War I that fired 17-inch shells weighing 1,719 pounds each. The British said the shells came in from their journey of six miles “with a noise like a runaway tramcar on badly laid rails.” Designed to demolish concrete fortifications, they also did a job on anything or anyone they hit if they missed.

Two Big Bertha guns were made by Krupp and informally, but enduringly, named for the heiress, shown above, who inherited the Krupp firm in 1902.

In Austin Park, one Disco Berry flavor Starburst Chews wrapper, one black plastic gasket, and one empty pack of Seneca Menthol Lights 100’s bearing a tiny image of a Native American chief.

By a baseball diamond in Austin Park, always a great spot for litter, a pack of Eclipse Fusion gum, Spearmint Melon flavor. When they say we have too many choices today, this is surely an example. The combinations must be endless. Also, lots of torn corners from foil packages, and again, the package from a set of disposable contact lenses; apparently some hitter wants a fresh pair at game time; or perhaps it’s the umpire. Also, a crushed paper cup. And yesterday, at the Village eastern gates, a cardboard package that once held 3 premium latex condoms, Trojan-Enz, “Triple Tested” according to the little Trojan warrior logo. I used to think of Lyle Andrews and Gavin Byrnes when I thought of Princeton, but now it’s Church & Dwight Co., Inc. Do you think the owners live right at the factory, or do they have a nice house near the campus?

On the same lawn, one empty pack of Newport Menthol 100’s, with an upside-down Nike swoosh, and one empty pack of Camel Lights, making an encore appearance, sweeping us back to the shores of the Black Sea and the rustling groves of Turkish tobacco.

I normally don’t pick up litter in the rain, but I made an exception this morning for a yellow receipt from Lakeside Video, where, on May 17th, long-jumper Amy Popovich rented “Slackers.” It’s due back today, Amy.

Last night on the way home, along the side of Route 20, a pair of used latex gloves. They may still be there; I am not going to pick them up, not without tongs. In Austin Park, numerous corners from packages, among them a Quaker Oats snack and a giant Tootsie Roll; perhaps people think that although a bag or wrapper is made of foil, a corner of it must be biodegradable, by virtue of its size.

And this morning on the way to work, a very crisp, well cared-for pack of Camel Lights, with a Vermont tax stamp on the bottom, and this reminder: “A master-crafted blend of only the finest hand-picked Samsun & Izmir Turkish tobaccos with a robust domestic tobacco blend creates Camel’s distinctive flavor and world-class smoothness.” I checked, and Izmir is a variety of tobacco that grows closer to the Aegean Sea on Turkey’s western coast and Samsun grows closer to the Black Sea on Turkey’s northern coast. So you’re really getting two big bodies of water with every Camel, which seems like a pretty good deal, although I would raise a flag of caution with regards to the phrase, “robust domestic.” I’m not sure exactly what that means, in spite of what it’s meant to convey.