Dump Day!
Dump Day
The back end of my Kia was nearly scraping the pavement as we drove up Elk Run Road on our way to the dump. The trunk and back seat were stuffed with four-foot metal posts, assorted wire remnants, a variety of handheld weights, books, four large area rugs, and other whatnots, along with our garbage and recyclables.
After Dane backed into a spot in front of the garbage receptacle, I hopped out and, with two hands, flung the garbage bag. It landed with a satisfying thud at the bottom of the bin. This meant we were early. Another hour and I would have had to swing the bag on top of a mound the size of Mount Everest, then hope it would stay and not cause a landslide.
I was about to grab the recyclables when I heard, “Jane!”
It was my neighbor, Ann, whom I didn’t recognize because her hair had grown so long! I hadn’t seen her for months, since before she and her husband, John, left to spend the winter in a warmer location. Although she attends my online exercise classes, her computer camera and sound had been malfunctioning all winter. It was good to see her.
As Ann told me about her and her husband being ill twice with a norovirus, I looked more closely as I listened. She’d had a rough winter. It didn’t seem fair, as she’s a giving and caring person. When Dane was recovering from his heart attacks, Ann and John would grab our garbage on dump day, and Ann would drop off homemade soups, all low-sodium, just like the doctor ordered.
Now Ann looked tired, and it appeared she had lost weight. Yet she also looked pretty and serene.
As Dane huffed and puffed, carrying our giveaways to the free table, Ann explained that John had been diagnosed with leukemia. The doctor had predicted, “Five years.” John had also become blind in his left eye from macular degeneration.
“That’s too much. Too much,” I said. But then Ann smiled and said that when John finished mowing the lawn for the first time this year, he came indoors and said, “That was fun!” Ann shrugged her shoulders and gestured “Who knows?” with her palms.
What I know from experience is that they’ll need more than good thoughts and prayers. They’ll likely need practical help with everyday chores.
When Ann left, I helped Dane place the metal posts in front of the metals container, hoping someone would be able to use them. We both checked the free table as we added our rugs to it, but didn’t see anything we needed.
As I opened the car door to get back in, I saw a man carrying several birdfeeders—a green suet cage, a finch food holder, a large white feeder for sunflower seeds, and a wooden house that would hold both suet and seeds. “Hold on,” I said to Dane, then greeted the man. “Hi! Are the bird feeders all usable?”
“Yes, I got tired of feeding the birds. The food attracted mice, and the mice would get into my house. A vicious circle that I'm tired of.” He set the feeders down and added, “Help yourself.”
I chose the large white feeder, thrilled with my dump find.
“Ah,” he said, “that one was from my mom. She’d be happy you took that one.”
“Sweet,” I said. “Thank you!”
I liked him. I’d never seen him before, and later I was sorry I hadn’t asked his name. After all, if he’s at the dump, he’s a neighbor.
On the way home, holding my prized bird feeder, I told Dane about Ann and John. He was sorry to hear of John’s medical challenges, remembering what good neighbors they’d been to us in our time of need.
We loaded up the rest of the wire at my place, and I drove back to the dump while Dane went home. Already, all but four of the posts were gone, and only one rug was left! Excited, I called Dane to share the news. It’s a fantastic feeling when someone can use what we don’t need, and vice versa.
That evening, Mr. and Mrs. Grosbeak, a goldfinch, and a few Baltimore orioles were picking sunflower seeds from my new feeder. Watching them, I whispered a prayer for John and Ann, and vowed that if I ever saw the bird feeder man again, I’d ask his name.
I love dump day. The dump is alive with giving and receiving, sharing and caring. Life!