Earth Friendly Challenge

As Earth Day is tomorrow, this seems like a good time to report on a challenge that I set for myself for the six-week season of Lent, which ended on Easter Sunday. People familiar with certain Christian denominations will recognize Lent as the time for giving up something pleasurable, such as chocolate. This practice is still popular, and recently some have chosen to make their Lenten sacrifice more about contribution to the needs of others and to causes such as justice and care for the earth.

Preparation

My intention was to avoid as much as possible buying single-use plastics during the six weeks. This included purchases by other people on my behalf — purchases made mostly by my Dear Spouse (DS). My rules were simple. I could use up anything already in the house by Ash Wednesday, the start of Lent. I also stocked up on a few staples to last the season, because my purpose wasn't to spend hours making my own toothpaste, for example. And for things I just want but don't need — especially my favorite brand of hummus, which comes in a plastic tub — I bought enough to last the first week or so.

Practice and Infractions

Two days into Lent, I went to FullFillery, a fairly new shop in my town that specializes in low- to zero-waste products, sort of one-stop shopping for all your household sustainability needs. The woman behind the checkout counter greeted me and invited me to explore the shelves holding various cleaning products, soaps, and lotions. She showed me the glass bottles with spray or pump dispensers. I could buy a small plastic bottle of concentrated dish detergent and return the bottle for a $2 deposit. I bought the detergent and also a glass bottle, into which the saleswoman poured my detergent.

Before long I began to notice plastics more. Nearly everything in any grocery store has single-use plastic attached in some way, often several different ways. My otherwise exemplary cocoa — organic, fairly traded, and small-farmer grown — had to be rationed during the challenge because, although the can is cardboard (100 percent recycled) with a metal bottom, the lid is plastic. Same with my mayonnaise — glass jar, plastic lid.

For some other favorite products I changed brands to avoid plastic, but that strategy was only partly successful. I bought almond butter and honey in glass jars with metal lids, but the lid is sealed on the jar with, what else, plastic. I shopped in stores that sell greens free of clamshell containers, but each bunch of kale or chard is held together by a plastic-covered wire that also carries a plastic label.

I knew I would not be buying coffee to go unless I could use my own mug, but still I ended up with two take-out cups and their plastic lids. (By the way, the paper cup is coated with plastic; I learned this from the book 101 Ways to Go Zero Waste, by Kathryn Kellogg, a handbook for conscious consuming.) My first coffee-to-go infraction happened because I assumed I could use my mug at a Starbucks. That turned out to be not the case, maybe because this particular Starbucks was in a hospital lobby. The barista did invite me to pour my coffee from the paper cup into my mug. If I hadn't been caffeine-deprived at the moment, I might have thought at least to ask for the coffee with no lid on the cup.

The second infraction was more preventable. In a coffee bar that offers the option of real mugs, I forgot to ask for one and so received the default cup and lid.

My diet changed. I couldn't have crackers, chips, or any packaged snack foods. I cheated a bit with the brand Food Should Taste Good multigrain tortilla chips, which I've always thought should be renamed "No Snack Food Should Taste This Good." The DS buys them, and also eats them, but of course if I eat them he has to buy another bag sooner. So I cut my consumption down, but not entirely out.

An unanticipated change was giving up dairy products, just because they all come packaged in plastic. Late in the game, my Dear Daughter (DD) reminded me of the gourmet cheese counter, where some of the cheeses might be wrapped in paper.

Heading into Palm Sunday, one week before Easter, I was tired. On Saturday I shopped at a farmers' market, in a hurry because it was raining, so I didn't think through the prep to avoid plastic. That was a big lesson I learned from this challenge — the necessity of planning and preparation. I took my large shopping bags with me but forgot the smaller produce bags. I know, they're not necessary — it's just my compulsion to separate the apples from the lettuce and keep my shopping bags more or less dry. I ended up with four new plastic bags that day.

Reflection and Lessons

Did reducing my consumption of single-use plastics for six weeks make any meaningful contribution to the earth? No. But put the question another way: Does it make a difference if I regularly indulge in bagged snack foods, take-out coffee, salad mix in clamshells, and other conveniently packaged goods? What happens when many others similarly indulge? What happens is that our society gets to where we are today, in terms of our collective consumption of plastics. Earth911.com reports that, "In 2021, 40 million tons of plastic waste was generated in the U.S. and only 5% to 6% was recycled while 10% was incinerated and the remaining 85% was sent to landfills."

Back to the first question: What if I'm one of a growing number of people learning to change their habits? In fact that is the reality, evidence of which is the growing availability of information and resources to support more sustainable living. As we watch the alarming changes the earth and its inhabitants suffer, there are also less visible but nonetheless real changes happening in our society. It's a growth cycle of awareness leading to a change of belief, then a change in behavior, which leads to greater awareness.