WellesleyWeston Magazine

SUMMER 2017

Launched in 2005, WellesleyWeston Magazine is a quarterly publication tailored to Wellesley and Weston residents and edited to enrich the experience of living in two of Massachusetts' most desirable communities.

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narrative capturing a moment suburban sketches creative expressions your voice painting a portrait reflections last but not least The Dump E R N I E C O R R I G A N writer weary of my capacity for small talk and eventually withdrew from my offer to join me for the trip to the dump. I had to decide whether to cut short my social ritual or leave them at home as I headed to Great Plain Avenue to catch up with the townies. Mostly they stayed home. In a town that once called itself "dry," I would chuckle at the overflowing containers of wine and beer bottles — clear, green, and brown — (as I was heaving my own contribution into them) that strongly hinted that this town was indeed pretty "wet." And in an affluent town, you could always bank on finding a little treasure (like that brand new discarded golf bag I scored) that someone had left as trash in the "leave and take" area. Knowing that I had done my little part to save the planet and had liberated my garage from the mounting heap of consump tion was almost beside the point of my weekly sojourn. Chatting with old friends wasn't the key objective, but it made the trip worthwhile. Now that I live in Boston, I still separate my trash, but leave it for pickup by someone I don't know and who obvi ously doesn't have time to talk. as a child growing up in Wellesley, one of my fav orite rituals was our weekly trip to "the dump," then a cavernous pit within an incinerator where we gleefully pitched our trash from a week of consumption by a family of nine. My brother and I would sit on the back of the tailgate dangling our legs from the family station wagon, our father at the wheel, as he drove the short distance to what is now more elegantly called the RDF — the Recycling and Disposal Facility. Before the Clean Air Act made incineration of trash a federal crime in the early 1970s, I stood mesmerized by the fire pit and the large steel bucket that would drop down and close its claws into the sprawling waste to haul another load for the insatiable fire awaiting its next meal. Among the available activities wait ing for a seven year old boy in the 1960s, this one was high on my list. Many years later, I returned to Wellesley with my own family and a new ritual. Saturday was my day to go to the dump, with the recycling more or less sorted, and the car loaded up with cans, aluminum, glass, paper waste, and the trash that didn't fit into those categories. Where my childhood trips were quick, my adult experience at the RDF was not. I would be gone for a solid hour or longer, catching up with friends, often the parents of my kids' friends or the townies I'd known most of my life. My own children grew BE CREATIVE This page is designed to give our readers the opportunity to express themselves creatively. If you have a short piece of fiction or nonfiction (300-500 words), a poem, illustration, or photograph depicting life in Wellesley and Weston, we would love to hear from you. Please email your submissions to jill@wellesleywestonmagazine.com. 216 W e l l e s l e y W e s t o n M a g a z i n e | s u m m e r 2 0 1 7

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