Walk a mile in these shoes

This morning, I took a pair of leather dress shoes with a torn insole to my neighborhood shoe repair shop. My town is strangely lucky to have four shoe repair shops in spite of the fact that within the past fifteen years, these shops have declined in number from 60,000 to a paltry 7,000 nationwide.

Perhaps this comes as no surprise. Somewhere around 75% of today's shoes are made of molded rubber, plastics and other synthetics which are not easily repairable. Along with disposable flip-flops, a lot of shoes simply end up in landfill. 

One Seattle shoemaker commented that young people today don't even realize that shoes can sometimes be repaired. Disposable living is all they've ever known.

George, the owner of Park Street Shoe Repair, is 83. He started learning the shoe repair trade when he was ten years old under the tutelage of his father, an Italian immigrant. He took over the shop in 1966 and has run it over the last 48 years. 

At the time that he opened the business, George's father bought these sewing machines second-hand. They're over 100 years old today, and still working well. 

George keeps a bin of matches near the sewing machine (pictured above: lower right) in order to seal the ends of the nylon thread he uses. This prevents the thread from fraying.  

Although some of the machinery in the shop looks like it belongs in a museum, George uses everything, including this row of finishers for sanding and buffing soles:

He uses a potent-smelling glue to adhere inserts and soles: 

He then uses the shoe press to hold the two parts together while the glue dries:

 

He stays busy, working three days a week. When I asked who will take over the business when he stops working, he says no one. "A few people have asked but I discourage them," he told me. "There's no future in it."

I recalled the lamp repair shop a few blocks away that recently closed when the owner retired. George nodded. "He'd fix a lamp for you for $10...now, you have to go buy another one." 

More landfill. Less know-how.

When I asked George if he was thinking of retiring anytime soon, he laughed. "What the hell am I going to do at home?" He explained that his wife passed away twelve years ago, and that he keeps the shop open for his mental health.  Sure enough, when I arrived, George was accompanied by five other guys (three of whom left by the time I took this photo):

 
As we sat outside on the bench talking, I counted at least six people who honked and waved from their cars and trucks. George is somewhat of a legend in these parts. He's affectionately known as the "Mayor of Park Street". He joked that he starts work when the sun peers over the roof and hits the edge of the sidewalk. (That would be around noon.)

The planet is not the only casualty of our disposable way of living. 

We're also losing touch with a communal way of being that offers a sense of purpose as we age.

This is echoed elsewhere, including by this Seattle shoemaker:

"Much more than shoes, what makes men and women feel like a million is the ability to use their talents to make a living that’s personally uplifting and that contributes to the community." 

For our community's sake, I'm glad George keeps his shop open.  He's good for the sole, and soul.

"Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can..."

Today I started to wonder if any one person's individual efforts can possibly make a difference. In sixty to seventy short years, we've littered the planet with non-biodegradable plastic -- and there's no sign of stopping. 

Particularly at large events in which public safety is critical, disposable plastic is par for the course. 

  
One can spend a lot of time arguing whether plastic manufacturers and chemical companies perpetuate public demand for disposable plastics (or vice versa) but in the end, the former keeps producing stuff designed to be thrown away after one use and the latter continues to consume it.

On June 11th, I challenged myself to get off of non-disposables and have remained committed to the practice. Today at an ice cream social event, for example, I managed to participate without creating plastic garbage by choosing ice cream in a cone. Still, many opted for a bowl. Did it really matter that I took my ice cream in a cone? If there had been no cones, would I have not taken the ice cream? (I really wanted the ice cream.) What's one more disposable bowl and spoon?

Sixty-six (66) days ago, a colleague and I went to see the documentary, Plastic Paradise: The Great Pacific Garbage Patch. I went feeling a bit like I was the choir to which the movie would speak. Shortly into the film, I realized with complete dismay that I'd walked into the auditorium with an armload of disposables for the convenience of a take-out dinner (see the picture on the inaugural post). 

How invisible the disposable waste problem was to me! 

Seeing the film that evening was what prompted the initial 20-day challenge and my attempts to highlight what I've learned here.

Tonight, after weeks of preparation, the student colleague who accompanied me to the film sixty-six days ago successfully brought the Plastic Paradise film to our workplace as the culmination of his summer project. Roughly sixty people came. This was fewer than we had hoped but in his introductory remarks, my colleague reminded me of Margaret Mead's famous words:

“Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed, citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”
 
My colleague encouraged me tonight when he recited these words, even while I've reminded myself of these words previously (see 4th of July post). The operative words are "small group". It's easy to get discouraged working toward something on one's own.

Still, one my own, here's something I used to buy - and throw away - every day:

Here's what I haven't thrown away in the last 65 days: 

I could take similar pictures of the paper towels I no longer always grab on autopilot, or the plastic bags, restaurant carry-out and yogurt containers that used to accumulate in my cupboards.  

One person's actions do add up, often pretty quickly. Why not be that person?

Then, find other people to become a small group that begins to change the world.

Plastic-free fruit? That's peachy.

On the first day of the plastic-free challenge, my friend, Donna, taught me how to make yogurt. This weekend, I learned how to can peaches.

For as long as I can remember, I've had a longstanding habit of stocking up on store-bought frozen fruit especially when there's a sale. Frozen fruit is perfect for eating straight out of the bag during hot summer days. In wintertime, I often experimented with adding different varieties of frozen fruit to hot oatmeal.

Image courtesy of http://store.naturalfarms.com/product.php?productid=18219

Alas, this frozen fruit habit is one that I've relinquished (somewhat reluctantly) because the fruit is packaged in plastic bags. Once these bags are torn open, they aren't useful and have to be thrown away or down-cycled -- that is, if one's municipality will include them in recycling collection.

This weekend, a friend named Mary Grace invited me to can peaches with her. I wasn't optimistic about my abilities. I'm not incompetent in in the kitchen but I'm not what I'd call confident either. Turns out, it was a lot of fun and not as difficult as I thought I might be.

Mary Grace made it easy by outlining the steps needed.  I've divided them into three sets of six steps to make it easy to show here:

PHASE ONE

1. Start by purchasing peaches with 'cling free pits'. (These are called freestone peaches. If you have pits that cling to the peach, you won't have much fun trying to prepare them for canning.) 
2. Wash your jars in hot soapy water, and check the rims of the jars you'll use for chips in the glass. If you have a jar with a chipped rim, don't use it: the lid won't seal on this jar.
3. In a medium sauce pan, boil water. Once the water is boiling, maintain a low boil. Dunk the peaches in this boiling water for 30 seconds. (Mary Grace said that some books will suggest 60 seconds, but in her experience, the peaches become too mushy when boiled this long.)  
4. Fill a bowl with cold water. After 30 seconds in boiling water, dunk peaches in the cold bath for another 30 seconds to loosen its skin.
5. Peel the skin with a paring knife, taking care not to remove the peach pulp with the skin.
6. Slice peaches into the desired size and place into jars. Add one peach pit to the bottom of each jar to maintain coloring. 

PHASE TWO 

1. Prepare as many jars as your canner rack will allow. (Mary Grace's allows for nine. See image in Phase Three.)
2. Make the sugar syrup. This is the base that is needed for preserving the peaches. We opted for a 'thin' syrup (2 cups sugar to every 4 cups of water) - see options below. Boil the sugar and water until the water is clear. Stir frequently to help the sugar dissolve.
3. Add the syrup to the jars using a funnel. (Mary Grace has a glass funnel, which her husband, Dan, found at an antique store. This is nice because you can see through the glass as the jar is filled. Most funnels are made of plastic today.) Fill to within one half-inch from the rim to cover the peaches.
4. Wipe the rims free of any sticky syrup.
5. Boil the lids to sterilize them.
6. Put the lids on the jars immediately after they're boiled.

Sugar recipe options:

From Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book, 10th Edition

 PHASE THREE

1. Apply rings to lids.
2. Place on rack in canner with a canning tong. 
3. Keep jars hot from step #2 above before placing them on the canner rack. A distinct 'pop' means a jar has cracked, which happened to one of ours. The bottom had fallen out either because the jar was too cool when placed on the rack, or perhaps because it was an older jar that had been used for canning many times before. (They don't last forever.)
4. Cover the canner with a lid and boil the jars for 25 minutes.  
5. Remove hot jars from canner with canning tong and set on a countertop to cool. Placing a towel underneath will collect any condensation.
6. Voila! Caned peaches. 

I thought I would find the process to be a little tedious, but I discovered it was a great way to spend an afternoon. Not only did we do something productive in just a few hours, it was a fun way to catch up with Mary Grace whom I hadn't seen in a long while. 

Remember as a kid trying to remove a tangerine or orange peel all in one piece? I got the same thrill from removing large pieces of peach skin at once.

My thrill was clearly novice, however, compared to Mary Grace's pantry. This is the mark of a master food preserver. 

I tasted some of the veggies that she's pickled (clockwise from top left): cucumber relish, dilly beans, beets, corn relish, and 'bread and butter pickles'. All were delicious! 

She also dries onions and garlic from the garden, which - in addition to adding flavor to her and Dan's winter - makes their porch beautiful in summer:

 

While canning takes time and some special equipment (a canning rack and pot, tongs, lids with seals, mason jars, etc.), it's a great way to avoid disposable products. 

It's also a great way to connect with friends. I can't imagine I'd have as much fun trying to do it alone.  When doing it with others, one person can be quick-boiling and cold-soaking the peaches while the other is removing the skin, for example, all the while chatting about the meaning of life. (It helps to have friends like Mary Grace for that!)

This 35 days' worth of trash < the first 20

Tomorrow is trash collection day. It's been five weeks (35 days) since I've taken anything to the curb since just before the end of the initial 20-day challenge (see day #19). 

I haven't achieved zero waste (nor do I expect I ever will) but a little attention has proven to go a long way for reducing mindless waste. For example, my JOEmo stainless steel mug accompanies me to work every day (or I don't get coffee: that's motivation to remember to bring it!). I keep a spoon in my bike pannier for spontaneous frozen yogurt splurges. When I eat in restaurants, I either go with a strong appetite or bring a container for leftovers. I take jars, cloth bags and reusable plastic when shopping for food and things like shampoo that I can purchase in bulk.   

I've reduced buying things in non-recyclable packaging, such as saran wrap, plastic bags with foil lining, and hard plastic deli containers. 

I do shop around a little more but also eat less processed food.


My garbage from the past 35 days looks like this (the flip-flop is included for size perspective; it's dirty from being outside but is not trash...yet):

  
The waste includes parts of a pizza box with food on it (cannot be recycled); 35 days of dental floss; a paper bag with small amounts of tissue waste from the bathroom, and parts of this collection of non-biodegradable stuff:

I've kept the styrofoam, metal notebook spiral and tape dispenser until I can figure out where to recycle them, or in the case of the tape dispenser, where I can find refills that will make the dispenser reusable. 
 
I also have a waste can in the basement with dryer lint and dryer sheets from (probably) the last six months. I can't remember when I last emptied this:

The dryer sheets are Seventh Generation, and as soon as I finish writing, I have to pull them out of the trash bin!  I just learned:

"Our fabric softener sheets are made from unbleached paper, so instead of adding them to a landfill when they're done, you can recycle!"

I bought them because they have fewer chemicals compared to conventional dryer sheets. I didn't think about their ability to be recycled. Bonus.

Most dryer sheets are made of polyester, which is a plastic. Since these are thrown away after one use, they are part of the plastic waste problem. There are some re-use possibilities for polyester dryer sheets, but why create more work finding re-use opportunities? Easier not to use them at all. (There's also concern about unlisted chemicals in conventional dryer sheets, especially for children's clothing.)     

One of my local coffee shops (of all places) is selling Reusa Wool Dryer Balls. I may try them after my Seventh Generation box is gone (and recycled) since the paper used for these dryer sheets doesn't appear to come from recycled materials, which (as I learned when I was researching toilet paper) is not ideal for disposable products.

“No forest of any kind should be used to make toilet paper,” said Dr. Allen Hershkowitz, a senior scientist and waste expert with the Natural Resource Defense Council.  (From the New York Times)

I presume the same of other disposable goods.

What about the flip-flop? Jennifer Grayson of the Huffington Post wrote about the waste problem of our disposable shoes:  

"The cheaper they are...the faster they break, which means that every year, millions upon millions of them wind up either discarded in landfills or worse -- adding to the mountainous tide of plastic waste clogging our oceans and threatening marine wildlife. (Flip-flops, you might be interested to know, are a frequent sight in the Texas-sized floating landfill known as the Great Pacific Garbage Patch.)

Once thrown away, the stale sandals can leach dangerous chemicals into the environment, thanks to the variety of non-recyclable plastics like PVC and polyurethane most commonly used in their manufacture. A report last year by the Swedish Society for Nature Conservation, for example, found hazardous chemicals in 17 of the 27 plastic shoes it tested, including the endocrine-disrupting phthalate DEHP, as well as toxic metals like mercury, lead, and cadmium."

There's a TerraCycle Flip-Flop Brigade that will take them for making new products. There are also alternatives to the chain store variety flip-flop, such as Okabashi. Good to know. 


P.S. recycling pick-up is only every other week in my municipality so more on that next week. 

Imagine the message our cities would send if recycling were picked up every week and garbage only every other.