Who is Watching?

By Jim Hagarty

In my city, we have to pay a fee to have our garbage picked up. Almost $3.00 per bag or can. This was brought in 20 years ago to encourage people to recycle and it has worked.

But, of course, people who used to set out their trash for free are offended by this and so exercise a bit of civil disobedience in what is, oh so worthy a cause. They put their garbage in the trunks of their cars, drive around the city, and fill up all the city trash cans that are set out on streets and in parks for residents and tourists. Some folks in some very nice cars have been seen doing this.

Others drive around looking for the great big open green steel bins that are located at every industrial site. In goes the garbage. No charge.

And still others drive the countryside outside of the city and toss their refuse in the ditches and woods that abound in the area. There is one particular bush that grows very close to the road on both sides, not too far from town. In the bush can be found old furniture, garbage bags and other waste from the caring folks in the city.

So someone decided it was time for a sign. Garbage Watch in Effect. Except there is nobody watching. There is no video camera. And there are no farm buildings for miles. Who is this person or group of people who are hiding out and watching 24 hours a day for people from the city throwing trash in the bush? Are they being paid to do this?

It’s a little ridiculous but I have to tell you, standing there taking pictures of the sign, I really did feel that someone was watching.

Creepy.

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.