One Woman's Trash...

The fun thing about living in the city of Albany is that the Department of General Services is indiscriminate about the size, quantity, and content of the garbage placed at the curbside to be hauled away each week. Unlike Albany’s neighboring suburban residents who pay for garbage removal, we can throw refrigerators, mattresses, discarded construction materials, etc. to the road and they are toted away without question on our tax dime. Although it leaves me scratching my head and fretting over the elevation of our local landfills, this practice was a perk for Mart and I at the height of our home renovation.

Spring is an interesting time of year to live in the city, as people get the itch to follow the landscape’s lead and start anew. This results in lots of cleaning, lots of de-cluttering and, thus, lots of garbage piled upon the curb sides. This being our third spring as Albany residents, Marty and I have become accustomed to the rumble of the rusty, dilapidated pickup trucks that belong to the men we call “The Creepers”. They could be hoarders, slumlords, or salesmen, but you name it and these guys will take it: sixty year old kitchen cabinets, crushed wicker baskets, scrap wood, worn tires, musty furniture…the list goes on. They know the garbage men’s schedule by heart and each night they run their circuit, creeping through Albany neighborhoods, making innumerable drive-bys, peering from their dusty windows until they spot the next gem tossed to the roadside by some unsuspecting resident.

Yet The Creepers aren’t the only ones who get a thrill out of other people’s previously loved household items - Mart and I are often amused to see neighbors head down the street on an evening stroll only to walk back a few minutes later with a treasure they grabbed out of someone else’s trash pile. Two summers ago, we ourselves participated in the dumpster diving when the family across the street placed fence panels at their curb for removal. Hours later, under the cover of darkness, we made a half a dozen trips across Westford Street to collect enough panels to repair our own ramshackle fence.

But just a few days ago we scored our biggest find. With spring fever in his bones, Marty took the afternoon off from work and dedicated himself to a thorough overhaul of our garage, which had gone gravely neglected during the winter months. While lugging a dusty bag of unwanted items to the street, Marty noticed our next door neighbor’s father hauling a brand new grill out to her curbside. Mart struck up a conversation with the guy and learned that his daughter had decided to discard her newly purchased grill because she discovered, after bringing it home, that one of the burners was out of commission. Mart, being the resourceful guy that he is, thought he had a shot at repairing the broken burner, so he got busy dragging the grill into our yard before one of The Creepers came by and snagged it for himself.

Two hours later I returned home from work to a boyfriend who was grinning from ear to ear as he stood beside the same grill we had admired at Lowe’s last season. Together we carried his fortunate find up to the deck, gave it a good scrub, hooked up the propane tank, and decided to try our luck with diagnosing the problem. As Mart pressed the ignite button and turned the knob to high, we both expected the grill would give a soft sputter and the flame would die. Yet to our delight, we discovered our neighbor’s diagnosis had been dead wrong: the grill was in perfect working condition. Yay!

Mart deemed this an occasion worthy of a gin and tonic, and as he got busy pouring, I knocked around the kitchen and got busy chopping and seasoning. Within twenty minutes, our neighbor's grill, which  hours earlier had been sentenced to a life in a landfill, was doing a dandy job of roasting red potatoes, frying garlic smothered asparagus, and grilling lemon pepper seasoned tilapia. 

As we enjoyed our lunch together on the deck in the sunshine, we decided that being Creepers wasn’t so bad.  After all,  the best things in life are free.