In Putnam, Connecticut, Littering No Longer Sexy, Chic

Putnam, Connecticut -- Last night I rented Breakfast at Tiffany's on VHS from Great American Cinema of Putnam. In the opening scene Audrey Hepburn is eating a cruller from a paper bag and drinking out of a paper cup as she gazes past the storefront window. The fast food contrasts in my mind with her elegant black dress, her hair up, long gloves, pearls. She disposes of the packaging in a public trash receptacle.

Later, the character Doc Golightly drops a piece of trash to the ground, and I am taken aback. Soon the leading man, Paul Varjack, likewise, lets the wrapper of the crackerjack prize drop. Neither of these men appears to think twice about their decisions to litter. I am looking for it now, and two cigarettes and a match are discarded in the same manner.

In the whole movie I count six instances of littering. (A more interesting statistic might have been the number of times the word "darling" is used; I think it's over 20.) In 1961, it was sexy to litter and classy to smoke. Also, in New York City one could depend upon the daily street sweepers.

I am informed by the Putnam Town Hall that the Public Works Department only picks up litter "as needed." Of course, how can they know what's needed if we don't tell them? I told them today about Arch Street. For a few weeks I have been trying to clean it up. I don rubber gloves and fill about three garbage bags a week with collected trash, but I can't keep up. Much debris is washed there by the flow of rain water. There is also something about this location that is especially enticing to litterers. Perhaps that it is just out of sight of both Kennedy Drive and South Main, a small window of opportunity to dump your junk. You see, littering is not cool any more; there are fines and moral judgments to face.

But then, what is litter anyway? On South Main I piled up some old tires and made a sign from a piece of flat wood, Please Don't Litter. It's the same amount of litter, but organized and given purpose. Then there is my Properly Disposed project, whereby I fill found bottles with a message on paper and leave it there. The bottles were just bottles, but I added paper, so have I increased the litter or transformed it into something else?

Putnam is the antique capital of New England, and if we let our trash stay along the streets long enough, it will accrue a certain nostalgic value, if it manages not to biodegrade. My friend John, for instance, found some antique medicine bottles buried in the banks of the Quinebaug River. They've been cleaned up and now reflect light at my kitchen window.

A crackerjack box won't yield any kind of quality toy these days, but you might find something for free if you walk along the railroad tracks. Just now I found some colorful Mardi Gras beads and a worn but useable basketball. Last year there was a mother load of toys flowing down to the tracks like an avalanche of frustrated house cleaning.

This time of yea, I must say the biggest litterers of all are those thoughtless maple trees! It is natural to shed one's skin, to make way for the new, to leave a footprint. The broken beer bottles give the sidewalk a dangerous sparkle, which this article neither condemns nor glorifies. I just want to draw attention to the phenomenon of littering and how intention can change trash to treasure.

A person's environment is not separate from who they are. I have seen people frustrated by the litter in Putnam: "It's hopeless." "It's not my job to clean it up." "I hate people who litter." And these are the people who need to read this article. If you cannot do it yourself but the litter bothers you, don't be afraid to enlist help. The number for the Putnam Public Works is (860) 963-6813. If the litter is along state roads, call Connecticut's Public Works at (860) 713-5790.

Darling, I just know you'll do what you can... Flutter of heavy eyelashes, kiss on each cheek.