PETER BUFFA -- Comments & Curiosities

It’s garbage, I tell you, pure garbage. Actually, it’s garbage cans.

That is the issue the Costa Mesa Sanitary District has decided to

confront mano a mano, toe to toe, nose to nose, face to face -- enough

already with the body parts.

Starting in July of this very year, you can get a new can. Unlike the

black cans some of us have now, the new cans will be forest green, which

is a cool, soothing color and also more festive. The new cans will come

in two sizes -- 60 gallons, which sounds really big to me, and the super

jumbo 90 gallons, for people who throw out a lot of cars or large

animals.

I’m not sure how big my can is, so I called the Sanitary District to

find out. I spoke to a very nice young man who tried to help, but said he

couldn’t really tell what size can I have without seeing it. I told him I

don’t have time to get my can down there right now, so until I am told

otherwise, I’m going to assume I have a 60-gallon can.

The program is the brainchild of Sanitary District board member Dan

Worthington and has been in the works for three years. Some agencies act

impulsively. The Costa Mesa Sanitary District does not.

I would have thought deciding to go from big black cans to big green

cans could have been done in a year or so, but I am not expert in the

ways of trash. The issue is not without controversy. Some people are

worried that that they won’t be able to move their can if it’s too big.

My black can moves quite easily, but trash and the disposal thereof is a

very personal business.

Dragging cans from side yard to curb, curb to side yard, is almost

exclusively a male activity, assuming there is a male available for such

dragging. We hunt, we gather, we drag.

When it comes to the weekly ritual of trash day, I am always impressed

with those who get their cans out there the night before. It is a sign of

an organized person who prefers a calm, orderly world -- a time and place

for everything and everything in its place. Others prefer the last-minute

approach, testing the limits of the natural order, defying the clock and

setting artificial deadlines just to see if they can be met. I am in the

latter group.

The ideal trash experience for me is to be half asleep or, better yet,

in the shower, when I hear the roar of the truck turning onto our street.

That gives me exactly four minutes to throw something on, hurtle down the

stairs, burst through the door and drag my can to the curb. On rare

occasions, I can time it so that my can is in place just as the truck is

about to pass us by.

With more than 18 years in this house, I’ve only missed the brass ring

three times. Admittedly, a good portion of that impressive record is due

to the fact that we live on a cul-de-sac, with our side of the street

being the first pass.

Those of you who think I am too proud to drag my can across the street

and onto the opposite curb are mistaken. I stand there quietly with my

can as the truck makes its way around the circle, wave “hello” to the

driver as he pulls up, then step back respectfully while he does his

thing. When it’s all over, I slowly drag my can back across the street,

savoring the moment. Those are the mornings you remember for a long, long

time.

According to Director Worthington, two objectives of the new program

are to keep Costa Mesa beautiful on trash days, and keep animals from

rooting around in the trash. I’m not sure that green cans are necessarily

more beautiful than black cans, but the animal part is an excellent idea.

One of the main reasons I got my big black can when they first offered

them was the critter problem. Again, my trash was never at the curb long

enough to become part of the food chain for the local menagerie of crows,

cats and dogs, but the side yard was a hub of feeding activity. Like much

of Mesa Verde, in our backyard nighttime is the right time for possums

and skunks. It is truly amazing how clever our fuzzy little friends can

be when it comes to prying open trash cans and seeing what’s for dinner.

In fact, my closest encounter with the neighborhood fauna occurred in

my very own, run-of-the-mill side yard. In the near-black of night, I

turned the corner with yet one more plastic bag of trash, only to find a

small, black dog standing on its hind legs, leaning on the side of my

can. I was just about to say something rude and unpleasant, when it

turned slightly, and I could just make out a broad, white stripe running

right down its back.

I tried to remember everything I knew about what to do when you run

into a skunk, which didn’t take long, because it was nothing, nada, zip,

not a clue. I knew I had to do something, so I cleverly stood there,

frozen solid as Lot’s wife, and held my breath. After a few interminable

seconds, Pepe Le Peu gave me a look of total disdain, slowly backed down

the trash can, and waddled off into the night. I have no idea where, and

I didn’t ask.

From the day I got my big, black can, nothing like that ever happened

again. So out with the black, in with the green. I leave the colors to

others. I’m a big fan. I gotta go.

* PETER BUFFA is a former Costa Mesa mayor. His column runs Sundays.

He may be reached via e-mail at PtrB4@aol.com.