There were two things my children could do when they were younger that guaranteed that I would lose my temper: say “I can’t,” and waste something. “I can’t” will most certainly come up another day, but waste has been on my mind quite a bit.
Actually, it’s always on my mind.
That waste is bad is an a priori statement to me. Waste erases whatever time and whatever energy that went into producing something. And it also aborts whatever else could have been produced with the time and energy that was tossed away. We lose twice: we junk something of value, and we are without the alternate uses of the resources that produced it.
I know waste is inevitable. But I heard today that we throw out almost half the food we produce. Half. That shouldn’t be inevitable.
And I am as guilty as anyone. I do our menu planning and most of our grocery shopping. And on a weekly basis we throw out vegetables, fruit, meat, and a lot of leftovers that spoil because the food plan was too robust. Soups that looked good in the store didn’t find any takers in our house, and their expiration dates passed while they were in our pantry. We’ve opened our share of tortilla chips gone rancid while they sat in the garage, because they were the second half of a buy-one-get-one-free promotion that came at a time when we only wanted one bag.
But we waste more than food. Electricity cools empty houses. Cars idle in parking lots. We’re oblivious to time as it passes while we scroll further down our Facebook feeds. We have dreams, we make plans, and then we leave them to wither.
And I’m as guilty as anyone. I want to do better. But can I?
Blame exhaustion from our busy lives. Blame our disposable culture that encourages us to get rid of things when we tire of them. Blame our distractions. But really, blame ourselves. We choose what we do, and we own our choices. I hope I can do better.