Beach Trash Diaries: Episode I

So, in the throes of gung-ho environmentalism that refused to be discouraged by crappy weather, I set out to clean up garbage at my neighborhood SoCal beach on Christmas Day. My gift to the earth. The lifeguards patrolling the beach in their truck (who parked about 20 yards away and seemed to be staring) must have thought I was nuts, or a bum looking for redeemable cans.

The beach wasn’t as nasty as it gets at the height of summer, when every gust of wind sends somebody’s Dorito bag scudding across the sand until it hits the fence at the Talbert Channel. But since it’s been stormy, there was plenty of trash around, between what was washed down the river and what the sea barfed back onto the shore.

I only filled one bag, because my pants were practically dripping with rain by that point. My haul was the usual: pieces of styrofoam, plastic drink lids and containers, a never-used pencil with racecars on it, various mateless shoes, and probably the environmentally worst thing I collected, an aerosol can of spray paint that leaked and emitted that chemical smell when I picked it up. (Look ma, no gloves!) Here’s more:

Why you should send flowers instead of balloons

Where does all the food come from? Once I was walking the beach and kept seeing cloves of garlic that had washed up, for about 50 yards. This time there were partially decayed oranges and a piece of a melon or squash. Maybe they fall off ships and bob for miles before reaching the shore.

Ocean-going vegetable

And then I found what I hoped was someone’s photo album, but was actually just a half-terrible, half-mystery music collection – including Jewel, Alanis Morissette, and a bunch of blank, unlabeled CDs. The Mendelssohn concerto disc I rescued was scratched and sticky even after I washed it at home, so it ended that nothing from that library was worth saving.

Music that ought to be consigned to the sea

I also wanted to do an impromptu art installation based on deconstructed tennis balls – you know, like “this is how a tennis ball looks after three weeks at sea,” and so forth. There were so many of them, next time I’m going to build a pyramid. It can be an homage to the Aztecs – I think they played tennis, right? Unless I’m confusing it with soccer, after which they killed the losing team.