A Garbage Meditation
The invisible people we see everyday.
6:30 am, Upper West Side, New Your City.
My hotel window looks out on Broadway. Just staring. An aimless, long gaze, not really focusing on anything.
People walking. It’s bitter, bitter cold outside, people are just trying to get somewhere.
An ambulance stops. Two EMT’s get out, they don’t seem like they’re in a rush. They pull out the wheelie-bed, and disappear into a building.
My focus drifts to the left and I notice a small hill of black garbage bags. Big ones. Full bulging. At least fifty of them.
A moment later, a garbage trucks pulls up in front of this pile of trash.
Two men get out, wearing bright fluorescent shirts, and they start throwing the bags in.
You can see the bags are heavy. One, then two at a time, they heave them in.
Into the back, every so often they stop to compact the bags. Then back to heaving.
It’s their job.
I do some small calculations. In order for these two men to be at this spot on 93rd and Broadway at 6:30 in the morning, they probably woke up around 4am. Middle of the night.
A Prayer for the Garbage Man:
Praise to the one, for those who collect our trash.
Praise to the one, for the technology to create a truck of incredible sophistication, to crush and smash and collect.
Praise you for the super strong garbage bags to hold our trash, and get it out of our sight.
Which leads me to a thought about garbage:
What do we throw away? What do we keep?
What do we regret throwing away? What do we reuse? Recycle?
What do we almost throw away, but then hesitate, and put aside. And then throw out the next week?
And where will those fifty bags go? A place far away from here, out of sight, out of smell.
Who works at that place? Do they stink of garbage? Do they even notice?
And who are these garbage men?
What troubles do they have? What joys?
What teams do they cheer for?
What is their politics? Their charities? Their failures, their hopes?
The last bags are heaved in. The two men get back in their truck and drive away.
To the next pile.
Two garbage men. Invisible.
But just wait. Wait until the garbage starts to pile up. Wait until the stench grows unbearable.
Then, when that trucks come rolling down the street,
you’ll notice.
The garbage man can!
Thx for sharing and putting words to similar musings when I visited my parents on the UES…where they have comparable overstuffed bags and overworked humans…enjoy your musical retreat, Harold!