On my way home from work today, I saw a man picking up cans along the side of the road. I was instantly taken back to many, many, many, many years ago when I was a kid and it was summer-time.
I am walking along a lonely stretch of rural highway and it is hot and dry. I have a burlap sack in my hands and my eyes are scanning through the weeds for aluminum cans. In my pocket is a heavy magnet to test each can; if the can sticks to my magnet through my jeans, then I know it doesn't go into the sack and I throw it back down. I have been doing this for - what seems to my kid mind - a very long time. I am thirsty - or maybe it is just an excuse to do something else for a few minutes. My Dad looks up from his section of the side of the road and asks me what I need. "A drink, I'm thirsty." He looks a little perturbed and I can't blame him because this is probably the fourth drink I have had in the last 20 minutes or so. Next, I plan to find a fence post and take care of a "minor irritation"; at least that's what my Dad calls it. We are gathering aluminum cans because we can take them to a recycler and get money. When I first started doing this, I thought of all the cool things I would buy with my money like a bike or a radio but now I just want to go home and sit in the cool house and relax. We keep walking and bending down to pick up cans. Cars zip past me sometimes whisking my hair and cooling me off a little. My Mom is on the other side with my older sister and I think my bag is fuller and therefore heavier - bragging rights will come later when the recycler-man weighs our bags.
Thinking back on this, I don't know if we were collecting cans because we had to or because it brought some extra-needed money for things.
