We are recyclers from way back. There’s never been an item in my crosshairs that I believe can’t be recycled. I have my father to thank for this. In the 70s, he loaded all five of us up with stickers to put on every public and private light switch we could find that declared “Keep the Future Bright, Remember to Turn off the Light.”
He was deeply involved in the nascent recycling program at the Chestnut Hill East train station in the 1970s, where paper and glass were deposited and sorted awaiting their journey to Philadelphia’s newest …
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We are recyclers from way back. There’s never been an item in my crosshairs that I believe can’t be recycled. I have my father to thank for this. In the 70s, he loaded all five of us up with stickers to put on every public and private light switch we could find that declared “Keep the Future Bright, Remember to Turn off the Light.”
He was deeply involved in the nascent recycling program at the Chestnut Hill East train station in the 1970s, where paper and glass were deposited and sorted awaiting their journey to Philadelphia’s newest center.
Fast forward: thousands of plastics, glass and paper recycled, and now Christmas trees. On two January Saturdays, trees can be left at the Highland station. Thank you SEPTA and the sanitation department!
For several years, we would borrow a good friend’s truck, scoop up as many curbside-trashed trees as we could fit, and ferry them as repurposed recyclables to the station.
This year, with other family members busy, I bungee-corded our tree to the roof of the car and drove station-bound very slowly. All went fine until Bethlehem Pike, when I heard a scratchy whoosh and looked to my left to find the tree dangling down alongside the car like a hobo riding a freight train.
I pulled over and tried to re-set the tree onto the roof. Within 10 seconds, a man came jogging over. “Hi, I’m Billy, and I’m a rigger.” Oil rig? Sailing ships? He didn’t say, but he had a rope and he was ready to rig. He sprung into action to right my leaning tower of Frasier Fir. And then, like Saint Nick, he was gone. (But not before suggesting a better use of the tree as fireplace kindling.)
As I drove onward to Highland, my thoughts turned to politics and all the coverage of how divided a nation we have become. Despite that drumbeat of noise, I maintained throughout that despite our differences, we are at our core a nation of kind and caring people who at the drop of a hat – or in this case, a Christmas tree – would do the right thing for a fellow citizen. I have no idea how Billy the Rigger voted, and he has no idea how I did, but when he saw me struggling he was there to help. This was further confirmed at Highland, where a stranger applauded my efforts and the city sanitation worker offered to help untie Billy’s complex knots.
What a beautiful way to start my Saturday morning in this remarkable community!
Ellen Nalle Hass
Chestnut Hill
