It’s a small thing that unfortunately can grow
Driving along Sprague, I notice that the woman in front of me is smoking. I wonder if she plans on throwing it out the window. It’s bad enough that two small children sit in the back seat, absorbing the smoke, but will she do it?
I am still behind her, recalling how some of the kindergarten kids that I have worked with in the past have smelled like cigarettes — their clothes, their hair, and their backpacks. Kids should smell like soap and bubblegum. They don’t have a choice. They are condemned to smell like that until the day they leave home. Perhaps they’ll take the habit up themselves.
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t dislike smokers. I smoke. Hardly anybody knows this because I do not smoke in public, or in my car, or in my house. Even in the dead of winter I light up outside. I like to be considerate. What I am talking about here is littering and the idea of being responsible for everyone and everything we come into contact with.
The lighted butt flies out of the window. Ah, yes, the world is her ashtray and her kids have just learned that littering is OK. I reach for my cell phone and dial the number 1-877-1litter. I give her license plate number, color and make of her car, and our general whereabouts. They will track her down, send her a warning and, included in the third warning (if there is one) will be a fine. I’ve done my part. A small thing I know, but that’s where it starts, with the small things.
Some time ago, my son and I were taking an evening bike ride. We passed an elementary school where a baseball game was in full swing. A lovely family had set up camp on the sidewalk in front of someone’s home. They looked happy and comfortable there. Mom, Dad, and three kids enjoyed the warm afternoon with a healthy assortment of juice and snacks. I waved hello and smiled. It is always nice to see families doing things together.
On our way back from our exhilarating outing, we passed by the same elementary school. The game was long over, and the family was gone, but not forgotten. They had left all of their trash behind. My son, noticing the deliberately forgotten items, sighed, got off his bike and put the kickstand down. I did the same. Upon further inspection, trash also littered the field where the game had taken place. Fortunately, the apple cores had been left in a plastic shopping bag. We did the best we could, flattening and fitting everything into that one bag; other things we had to carry directly to the Dumpster. What bothered me the most was all of those kids, learning all the while that littering is OK. Responsibility is lifted from their shoulders. Yes, yes, it is a small thing, but it only starts small. It grows from leaving your trash in front of someone’s well-kept house, to dumping your ashtray in a parking lot, to backing into someone’s car and driving away, to leaving behind a smoldering fire. Do something now, before the fire is out of control.
From a very early age, I incorporated these ideas into my son’s life lessons, a Do Not Litter Lullaby, so to speak, that encompassed an array of notions. He was small then, but now he’s big. See, it does grow.