Editor’s note: Johnna is our newest trashtern. She’s an “on again, off again” student of theatre and women’s studies, but a full time student of life’s adventures. Passionate about the world around her, she is always looking for new ways to enhance the human experience. As an Americorps employee in 2006, she enlightened children’s imaginations through self-expression in theatre, art, movement, community cleanup projects, and arts activism. She was introduced to Pick Up America while working CleanVibes at Bonnaroo this past June and soon decided to embrace it as her latest journey.
By Johnna Jackson
I began my nine hour drive from Atlanta to West Virginia to meet up with Pick Up America on August 22. Excited and energetic, I put on some traveling music and threw back some strong coffee. My spirits were high and all I could do was continuosly visualize the difference we would all be making together. Then, a truck riding on tires that could easily have crushed me in my 2.5-door car flew by me at an uneasy speed. Exhaust began to pour out of the tailpipe. Finally, an arm became visible out of the driver side window as it launched a styrofoam cup onto the roadside grass.
I laughed. I laughed hard. I began laughing hysterically, even. The image upset me, of course, but the scene felt all too appropriate. Why am I here? Because of Mr. Monster Truck Driver. Because of the apathetic and the angry, the defeated and depressed, the unhealthy and the lost souls. This is the most beautiful life I’ve ever known (and also the strangest, to quote Mr. Morrison), and as an avid lover, I refuse to allow this kind of destruction.
When I wake up in the morning, I thank the air around me for filling my lungs, smile at the clouds that shade my eyes, and caress the ground under my feet. Every little, natural thing around me brings me some sort of joy (except mosqitoes, but if you saw my legs you’d understand). With all this love in my heart, it seems unfair to hoard it all. I need to share. So here I am, sharing with you and the world around you.
I feel extremely blessed to have met the crew. It’s interesting to note that a music festival, such as Bonnaroo, has the capacity to be life changing. That’s where I met Pick Up America. Want to hear great music? Yes. Want to pay for it? Nope! Clean Vibes it is. Next thing you know, you’ve been seduced by a revolution. The rest is history. West Virginia has been very good to me so far. The people are as beautiful as the mountains they live with. I’m thankful for the gracious hospitality that has been shown to us and the memories that I will treasure forever. But in between all the saccharine sweet moments, the roads around us are becoming cleaner, and for that I will remain forever gratified.
When you ain’t blogging, that means you’re having fun. “… And that’s a good thing,” Greg Caroll — one of our current hosts — would say. We’re wrapping up our walk through West Virginia with a hardcore week of trash-grabbing goodness. Here’s the latest on-the-road action:
Kim, Down Home, & Amy in Charleston
If it wasn’t for this project, I wouldn’t be sitting here in this hand-made home at “The Farm” outside of a town called Hurricane [pronounced Her-i-ken]. We wouldn’t have sat front row at last night’s live performance of the internationally-syndicated radio show Mountain Stage (and gotten a shout out from host Larry Groce!). We wouldn’t have met the awesome people at Groundworks Nursery, crashed at Amy’s home in Charleston, jammed with Down Home from Georgia, geeked out over videos with Doug. The point is: we wouldn’t have seen this snapshot of America and all the amazing people we call friends. I’m a lucky man.
Acid mine drainage plagues many of the waterways in coal country. Courtesy of Mike King
John E. Amos Power Plant, W.V. Courtesy of American Thinker.
A shake-n-bake-meth-making-kit. Johnna and I's noses started hurting after standing around this for a few minutes. Not sure if it was coincidence
On the flipside, we wouldn’t have seen firsthand the pollution of this country. The acid mine drainage from Morris Creek. The John E. Amos Coal-fired Power Plant — the nation’s 13th largest electricity producer. Also, my nose wouldn’t have flared up after finding a “shake-n-bake” meth-making kit. Still, I’m grateful for this walk. And still — trash-juice and skunked beer all over my skin — I’m a lucky man. Why? Well, for one, I wasn’t a victim of the Bhopal disaster mentioned in the video above.
MIC leak in Bhopal kills thousands
The Bhopal disaster is one of the largest lesser-known tragedies of world history. On the night of December 2, 1984, a leak of Methyl Isocyanate (MIC) killed an estimated 3,800 people in Bhopal, India. (Actual fatality estimates range from 2,000 to 25,000.) According to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, an additional 170,000 survivors “continue to exhibit damage to the lungs and eyes.” The legacy also includes reproductive effects, an increasing number of stillbirths, and spontaneous abortions. Last week, Pick Up America happened to walk by the Bayer CropScience site in Institute, W.V., where they stockpile MIC. Continue Reading »
The other night, we went to the Third Eye Cabaret with Option 22 at Taylor Books, a cool bookstore/coffee house in downtown Charleston. This spot has a lot of events throughout the month and even has an art gallery featuring the work of local artists.
I was struck by a particularly strong case of missing my friends so I picked out some funny found-photo greeting cards and started writing as I listened to Option 22 rock out. A man next to me was impressed by the stack I had in front of me and we started chatting. We turned out to have a lot of common interests; he is a social work professor and researcher focusing on recreational therapy and dance/movement therapy has been something I’ve been interested in for a long time. I told him about PUA and introduced him to the rest of the crew, and we exchanged contact info. A few days later, I received an e-mail from him that included a lovely poem that he wrote inspired by our work. Reading his interpretation of the reason behind our work re-centered my focus. His words gave me a little oomph, not only because of the words themselves but also because of the plain and simple fact that just by meeting us, he was compelled to write about PUA and what we are doing. I wanted to share the piece with you, as it is interactions like this that are keeping us going… that and homemade West Virginia-shaped cookies.
Trash Rash
By David Howard
It, quite simply, by most… is called garbage, or trashIt, quite simply too, covers and clouds that which we all call EarthUpon this planet, our home, refuse is all too often an ugly ugly rashAnd for each and every human, caring more should come with birthBecause where we live, how we live…What we pick up, the ‘what’s’ that we throw awayAnd the ‘how’s’ in which we do it, more attention, better kindness must we giveFor when caring now is absent, what then will we sayTo those generations yet to take their first step, breathe in their first breathThey who will sadly find fewer safe clean places to take their walkAnd surely find less and lessened air not of life promotion, but more towards illness and deathFor still today, too many don’t seem to care, much less be willing to talkGratefully though, there are yet someJust a few perhaps, but examples are theyWho’ve placed other lives on hold, and to our city comeSpeaking for our home, of this planet, and in their voice beauty gains a better sayMay we therefore always listenTo those who’ve paused long enough to hopefully make all more awareSo, let us not therefore too quickly return to hastenBack to busy lives, and not forget to care
We rolled into Charleston last night and hung out with these folks in this video. Louie wrote an awesome song about West Virginia, which is great, ’cause he runs an Open Mic at Griff’s Bar on Thursday nights in South Charleston. Hopefully, he’ll play it again tonight.
The Pick Up Artists will be jamming at the open mic tonight, and we’ll also be walking around for the Art Walk. Give us a call [301-523-1257] if you wanna meet up or are able to come volunteer the next few days. Here’s the schedule:
Thursday August 19th – Dupont City to Charleston, WV: Meet at noon at the Rite Aid in Dupont City; 3175 West Dupont Avenue Belle, WV 25015
Friday August 20th - Presentation at Pratt Elementary and Tabling at Marshall University
Saturday August 21st – Charleston to Dunbar, WV: Meet at noon in front of the West Virginia State Capital Building (near Virginia Ave)
Sunday August 22nd – Dunbar to West of St. Albans, WV: Meet at noon at the Shawnee Regional Park near West Virginia State University
Our journey isn’t complete without the folks we meet and the moments we share. Mark Blumenstein, an artist in Alderson, W.V., shared his craft with the Pick Up America team. He takes old farm equipment and welds them into really cool art pieces. He also helped us make a bunch of connections to get us across the state. Check out what he added to Rosie!
Unloadin' at the landfill. Photo by Kim Alexander
Mark brought us to his watershed’s office that was shared with another organization. Someone there gave us a tip to call another person he knew, who got us in touch with Sherrie Hunter from the Raleigh County Solid Waste Authority. And that’s how we got to tour the landfill, and film Rosie’s brief love affair with Leachate Larry.
A big THANK YOU to all those who are helping us make our way across West Virginia. Though the roads are often filthy, the people we meet have been more than stellar.
By Kelly Klein. Willie Nelson and John Denver have been competing for my attention the past few days. My brain is flip-flopping between the general excitement of getting “On the Road Again” and the rapture I am experiencing along the country roads of West Virginia, the state I was born in. Although I moved to Maryland at age three, the mountain mama left her mark. I feel at once deeply rooted here and incredibly out of place, surrounded by diverse and beautiful land, rich history, and unique community. I have hardly returned to the state since my family left, but there is something about dancing on an outdoor porch of a 200-year-old house to an awesome bluegrass band surrounded by mountains and friendly people that feels like home.
Sprinkled in these mountains are a diverse collection of people with greatly varying relationships to the unique land they have shaped and been shaped by over generations. Boaters, climbers, coal miners and farmers are all groups that rely heavily on the land, and have vastly different practices and attitudes toward these relationships. I’d love to explore how these are formed and expressed more comprehensively through research and interviews, but as of now, I am mostly musing and gathering information from the folks that I meet, signs that I see, and the physical effects left on the earth from human action.
In West Virginia, I have been struggling with my identity. Before joining Pick Up America, I always did my best to make myself a better musician, to be a more conscientious environmentalist, to spend quality time with my friends and family, and most importantly to work harder than the average person to achieve my goals of creating a more hospitable world. The daily grind of picking up trash, keeping the campaign running, and trying to spread awareness on zero-waste has taken it’s toll on what I am able to do on a daily basis.
I can no longer play four hours of guitar in a sitting. I can no longer read the latest articles on environmental issues on the Internet. I can no longer spend a lazy Sunday in bed with my lover. I can’t shoot the shit with my brother and dad on a bike ride. I can only pick up trash, talk to who I end up encountering, call my friends back home on the phone from time to time, and hope that somehow our campaign ends up in the newspaper to bring more attention to the movement for a sustainable future.
During the worst of my days, I do find myself wondering if it is all worth it. If this sacrifice of two years is actually the best way for me to be expending my energy in the prime of my life. Whether this path is actually leading me in the right direction to establishing and founding the full vision for The Harvest Collective. Lately, I’ve felt as though I’m ambling. Just going through the motions of picking up trash, talking to people, but not doing what I have to do to bring this campaign and myself to the next level. I’m constantly searching for new sources of inspiration. I’m trying to clear my mind and make sure that I’m open and ready for inspiration when it dawns.
we found that bottle on the ground at B.Roo
(about the pic… Kim convinced us that a “Pickleback” — chasing a drink with pickle juice — is acceptable and better than Nickelback. This was the result of burnout)
Editor’s note: Alexander’s second post. We translate these together, and it’s definitely cool to get the story from another perspective. Some of his descriptions are really great. The ENGLISH version with PICTURES is below.
By Alexander Kapin
Andy's home. Photo by Kim Alexander
28е-31е июля. Прибыли в г. Хинтон. Будем его чистить. Остановились возле библиотеки. У меня и Брэндона – выходной. Сидели 4 часа за интернетом – удалось поговорить по скайпу с родными и друзьями – хотя качество связи было плохое. К сожалению, я не смог выйти ни на один сайт из русского сегмента – всё блокировалось библиотекой. Вечером прибыли к Энди – она владеет большим питомником для выращивания растений. Continue Reading »
On behalf of the Pick Up America team, we’d like to apologize for being late to our meet up point on the morning of Wednesday, August 4, 2010. We heard there were several volunteers waiting, and we’d like to ask for their forgiveness. We got lost in town and found the wrong Kroger. Being in unfamiliar territory every day has been an obstacle for us, and we hope to improve on our timeliness.
Editor’s note: Part of this Pick Up America project is to just document American life in 2010… and 2011… or however long it takes us to get across the country. A few weeks ago while we were still in Virginia, we met a farmer who invited us to his home.
By Jeff Chen
Food is the most important thing in all of our lives. I’ve come to one conclusion from this journey, and that is: when I decide to hang my hat up, I’ll be sure to have learned how to grow food, can it for the wintertime, and eat it all the time.
I began my nine hour drive from Atlanta to West Virginia to meet up with Pick Up America on August 22. Excited and energetic, I put on some traveling music and threw back some strong coffee. My spirits were high and all I could do was continuosly visualize the difference we would all be making together. Then, a truck riding on tires that could easily have crushed me in my 2.5-door car flew by me at an uneasy speed. Exhaust began to pour out of the tailpipe. Finally, an arm became visible out of the driver side window as it launched a styrofoam cup onto the roadside grass.
When I wake up in the morning, I thank the air around me for filling my lungs, smile at the clouds that shade my eyes, and caress the ground under my feet. Every little, natural thing around me brings me some sort of joy (except mosqitoes, but if you saw my legs you’d understand). With all this love in my heart, it seems unfair to hoard it all. I need to share. So here I am, sharing with you and the world around you.
I feel extremely blessed to have met the crew. It’s interesting to note that a music festival, such as Bonnaroo, has the capacity to be life changing. That’s where I met Pick Up America. Want to hear great music? Yes. Want to pay for it? Nope! Clean Vibes it is. Next thing you know, you’ve been seduced by a revolution. The rest is history. West Virginia has been very good to me so far. The people are as beautiful as the mountains they live with. I’m thankful for the gracious hospitality that has been shown to us and the memories that I will treasure forever. But in between all the saccharine sweet moments, the roads around us are becoming cleaner, and for that I will remain forever gratified.
