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Paper or plastic? Mom has always said neither Saturday, May 3, 2008 By Micki Bare One in four of are saying no. When posed with the question, "Paper or plastic?" a quarter of us are saying, "Neither, thank you. I brought my own bags." We've spent years debating which was the "greener" choice at the checkout. Some chose plastic because it could be returned, recycled and reused. Some chose paper noting it derives from a renewable resource, can be recycled and is biodegradable. The plastic bags make excellent mini-trash can liners. The paper bags kept cans of tuna from rolling around the trunk and then could be easily converted into school book covers. But now, the debate seems to have come to an end. Twenty-five percent of shoppers are now bringing their own "green" bags that are made from renewable resources, can be used over and over, and will eventually biodegrade should we decide to replace them in 30 years. My mother is among the initial, cutting edge, trail blazing crowd of shoppers armed with earth-friendly sacks. When only 10 percent of shoppers brought bags, Mom had hers tucked neatly in her purse ready to unfold at the register. Fifteen years ago, mom knitted me a shopping bag. I pulled the yarn tote out of the gift bag and looked it up and down, trying to figure out what it was. It was too big to be a scarf or hat. It was too small to be a table cloth or curtain. Finally, Mom grabbed it, slung it over her shoulder and stated, "It's a reusable bag for shopping!" Fifteen years ago, I thought my mother was crazy. I was on board with paper or plastic. I could defend either choice as being the responsible way to carry home my goods. But Mom was not so easily swayed by grocery store propaganda. Mom, who made homemade granola and gave us plain, real fruit as a snack in the early 70's, was again way ahead of the game. When I was a child, we were in the minority. We did not live in a commune in California. We lived in a New Jersey suburb of New York. We swam in polluted waters and breathed chemically-enhanced air. The rain that fortified our vegetable garden was of a high acidic level. So for my mother to be such a naturalist was not normal. It was especially hard on my siblings and me. We were the ones sitting in the elementary school cafeteria eating thoroughly washed apples while surrounded by our peers who were enjoying pre-packaged snack cakes and plastic fruit from a box. I also freely admit that as I grew older, I was quite embarrassed when we shopped together and she pulled out a tote bag, answering, "I use my own bags, thank you," when the cashier offered paper or plastic. Back then, it seemed she was the only one. But she wasn't. And it caught on. Some of today's stores even have "green" bags for sale at the register. Somewhere, in the depths of a closet or the cavernous attic, a knitted bag hides tucked away. Patiently, the bag has awaited my ability to venture into public and use it to carry home bananas, wheat flour and coffee without feeling self-conscious. Clearly I lack the gene that enables my beautiful mother to go about her business outside the confines of conformity, meet friends wherever she goes and smile happily when people look at her funny as she makes going against the grain seem the smooth path through life. There was a time when the public majority would have to lug "green" bags to the superstores before I would even consider jumping on that bandwagon. However, as I mature, I can finally see that Mom is the one to follow, not the majority. Therefore I will turn over every dusty box in my house to find that knitted shopping bag. I will also collect all the canvas bags I've collected over the years at the conferences and training events I've attended throughout my professional career. I always wondered what I would do with all those bags, sighing as I registered at yet another conference and was handed yet another bag. Who knew that after collecting such a broad range of totes that I would one day gather them all in one place? Who could have guessed that I would one day clear a special place in the trunk of my car to store my canvass tote collection? Who could imagine that I would one day plop them into my cart and use them at the checkout instead of settling for paper or plastic? All along, it was always my dear mother who knew. ------- Micki Bare is a columnist for the Arkansas News Bureau and the Courier-Tribune in Asheboro, N.C., and author of the book, "Relative Expressions." She lives in Asheboro with her husband and three children. Her e-mail address is mickibare@inspiredscribe.com. |
