Going to the Dump!

Memories of childhood were the dreams that stayed with you after you woke.      

~Julian Barnes

     This afternoon Lanny had planned on taking a load of old stuff to the local dump for a toxic material drop off. He had several big cans of latex paint, and some old electronic gizmos that no longer worked that had been taking up space in his work shop. Since we have been quarantined for over 10 weeks now, when he asked if I'd like to go along I jumped at the chance. I mean, who doesn't love a trip to the dump??

     The trip sparked two distinct memories for me. The first one was from my childhood. We lived in a duplex with my grandmother living upstairs and my family downstairs. Grandma Ruth was a saver. She had boxes and boxes of old canning jars and other seldom used old things stored down in the basement. My father was not a saver at all. He looked forward to early spring when he could borrow a friend's pickup truck, clean out the junk in the basement that accumulated over the winter, and haul it away to the local dump. Likewise, a similar cleanup occurred in the fall. He would pull the old truck up so it was parked next to the basement window, head to the basement and start sending boxes of stuff up through the window. The stuff would get loaded into the truck and then hauled away. There was always a "discussion" between my father and my grandmother over the stuff he wanted to get rid of, sometimes ending in the box being carried back down to the basement by my not happy father. Finally the back was loaded up and off Dad would go. Sometimes my sister would go with him... when she was old enough to not get into trouble. I only went once that I can recall. My mother warned me to "stay away from the rats!", which filled me with dread, and a sense of danger that was more than a little enticing. Secretly I was excited. Off we went in that old truck, wind whistling through the open windows. The dump was down a dirt road full of pot holes, so the ride was bumpy. It was stinky when we got there, and my goodness there were indeed rats there. I'd heard about boys learning to shoot by shooting rats with bb guns at the dump... Mountains of trash of all sorts. Did I mention the smell?? Not the place for the prissy little girl that I was. I did not ever ask to go again. 

     The "dump" here in Asheville is a completely different place. An open iron gate with landscaped shrubbery and a paved driveway greeted us. We were met by a friendly gentleman who asked what we were dropping off, and then guided us to the correct place for their disposal using a map. Area Five was a covered building where three more employees (and a friendly labrador retriever) directed us where to place the paint cans. A separate place for electronics was found, and soon the back of Lanny's air conditioned truck was emptied. Except for that distinct smell, it was a completely different experience. Only the smell was the same, and it carried me back to that other dump, long, long ago.

     Our trip took us along the shores of the French Broad River, which after a week of heavy rain, is way over it's banks and has places of thundering white water as it tumbles through the valley on it's way to Tennessee. As we drove along, there were homes and campgrounds all along the bank that were flooded. We used to have our creek back in Avon flood every spring, and apparently the same thing happens here. With climate change, there is more water here than there used to be, so the flooding can cause some real damage. As we drove along looking at it all, I was reminded of the flooding that occurred the year I lived in Hazard, Kentucky. Hazard sits along the East Fork of the Kentucky River, and the ARH Hospital where I worked sat just across the road from the river. I used to follow the river from where I lived in town to the hospital. One day after some pretty heavy rains, I headed in to work. Driving along the river, it was already over it's banks. I could hear the pops of gunshots too. Everywhere. Turns out when the river flooded, river rats had to run up the banks to escape the rising water, and the locals would go sit along the banks and shoot at them... I parked in the employee lot and walked in through a rather small front entrance to the hospital. The visitors' lot was full, which was unusual for that early in the morning. Unbeknownst to me, the flood warnings had been issued locally. The lobby of the hospital was crammed with people, too many for the chairs, so many were sitting on the floors. There were old folks, young folks and children, all crammed into the lobby. I found my way to the unit where I worked and asked what was going on. It was explained to me that where the hospital sat put it at risk of being cut off by the flooding on both sides of the road, making it impossible for anyone to get in or out as long as the road was flooded. The response of the people in the area, many of whom lived up in the hollers on dirt roads, was to bring the whole family down to town and camp out at the hospital... yup. In case somebody got sick, they were already there.  

     This may sound silly, but if you think about it, it makes sense. These were people with very limited resources who were in a scary situation. They came to a place they knew would take them in, keep them safe. 

     There are rising waters in many places right now. If you are in one of them,  I hope you too can find a place that will take you in and keep you safe! And to us all, stay safe and healthy.