Readers Take Turn at Rubble-Rousing
Alice Hoisch of Tarzana writes:
I read your Sunday, March 5th column with trepidation. I was sure you were standing in front of my house when you wrote it. That afternoon, in the rain, I removed the tree trimmings which I had, indeed, thrown on the earthquake rubble. I also retrieved the paint cans placed there by the contractor’s workers (who are nearing the completion of their earthquake repair) as well as the 8-track tapes thrown there by some unknown person. I am looking for the proper disposal for these items . . .
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What a coincidence. I have my own pile of rubble that just grows and grows and grows. Once upon a time, it was called a desk. These days, it is a “work station.” Occasionally, the office police issue warnings, no doubt fearful that the fire marshal or OSHA might drop by.
Perhaps I should do something about it. But I’m fond of my rubble, and it seems to have a life of its own, sort of like The Blob, but slower. I proudly follow its progress. Soon it will take over John’s work station, then David’s, Maggie’s and Lucille’s. Then it will creep down the hallway, out the door and across the parking lot. Only when it reaches into the street will it be stopped--hauled away as “quake debris” at the expense of the Federal Emergency Management Agency.
The best thing about my rubble is that, even as it grows, it gets recycled. Take Alice Hoisch’s letter for example. In this cynical age, some people think columnists quote reader mail because they are too lazy to come up with new topics. Not me. I believe in conservation.
Apparently, Alice Hoisch believes in conservation too. No doubt she wasn’t the only reader who didn’t know that Valleyites are not supposed to mix their usual trash with their quake debris. Recent columns about frequent abuses of the city’s FEMA-financed quake debris-removal program--and how those abuses have hurt private rubbish haulers--prompted a variety of response.
A Woodland Hills man writes:
I’m so sick of seeing our streets look like the city dump!
This reader shall remain anonymous. One reason is that he did not leave a phone number with his e-mail, and I did not see it in time to e-mail him for permission to quote him by name. Another reason is that he may not have wanted his name printed anyway. In his letter, he admitted to harboring anger and resentment toward neighbors who’ve dumped more than quake debris in the city streets.
Part of his anger, it seems, stems from the fact that he quickly repaired quake damage at home, before the city launched the debris removal program, and therefore paid for the rubble to be hauled away.
Mr. Woodland Hills added that he is hopeful that public awareness of potential fines--up to $1,000, according to city officials--would dissuade others from trying exploit the quake program.
And now, as I take a closer look at my electronic stack of letters, I see that readers were commenting on the rubble in the streets even before the columns of last Sunday and Tuesday. A Northridge man--again, no phone number--wrote on Friday, March 3, calling my attention to the perpetual stretch of debris along Rinaldi, just west of Tampa. Most of it came from the quake repairs of a condo complex. But, the reader noted, it had become a prime dumping ground for you-name-it.
The reader noticed something else:
The interesting side note is that the area is becoming a haven for gleaners. People who are making a living picking through the discarded materials to find items they can use or sell. It has made for an interesting view of the human condition, seeing people blatantly dumping trash on the street instead of a dump, and others simultaneously picking through the trash, looking for a hidden treasure. Anyway, I found this sad, frustrating, and interesting.
It reminds me of the stories I was told by Mike Gil, the career rubbish hauler from Sylmar who was featured in Tuesday’s column. Gil, who once found a set of crystal while picking up garbage, remarked that Mexican laborers who work in trash trucks “think this is heaven, man.” This isn’t surprising. Near Mexico City, poor people form colonies amid vast city dumps, scratching out a life as scavengers.
It also reminds me of stories of wretched excess in our disposable culture. Gil says he was once hired to haul throwaways from the Malibu home of a wealthy entertainer. Among the “rubbish” was expensive new carpeting apparently being thrown out because the color was a bit off. The entertainer was redecorating, you see.
And it reminds me of another story that a friend recently told me. It’s about a wealthy couple who bought a Palos Verdes estate with plans to tear down the old home and put up a new one. Now, a “tear down,” as real estate agents call it, isn’t unusual in pricey ‘hoods. But this one came with quite a bit of furniture inside. It seems the couple didn’t bother to call a charity to take the furniture away. They just had it demolished along with the house.
So the thought of scavengers finding treasure is reassuring. My colleague, Maggie, in fact, salvaged so many bricks from Valley gutters that she was able to use them to build a walkway through her garden.
That’s a good thing, too. She’ll probably have to start spending more time out there. My rubble just took over her work station.
Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays.
