Leave a light on

By now, news of CARTM’s closure at the Manzanita Transfer Station has likely reached most of us.

It was hinted at in the early fall before a compromise was seemingly reached with Tillamook County to keep the doors open until next fiscal year (June, 2019). During that time, everyone involved would keep working on a more permanent solution.

There was much rejoicing.

Everything was fine.

Until it wasn’t.

In a surprising workshop in mid-December, Tillamook county commissioners voted 2-1 to end CARTM’s operation of the transfer station. Though county staff will likely re-open the facility in 4-6 weeks with what amounts to a skeleton crew, services will be severely scaled back.

Even though I’m a notorious armchair quarterback, I’m going to leave the second-guessing aside and concentrate on the ramifications, which are immediate.

First, is the human element, with 14 employees now facing unemployment during the winter. Finding steady work on the Oregon Coast is an iffy proposition at best. These folks have had the threat of losing their jobs hanging over their heads for months and continued to work, hoping a solution would be achieved. Now they’ve gone through Christmas with a pink slip under the tree.

Second, is this glaring question: what becomes of the garbage and recycling generated during the period which CARTM is closed? Does it end up scattered along the highway? The beaches? Perhaps more people will sign up for curbside trash pick-up, but now things such as recyclable glass and plastic will be crammed into trash bins, destined for landfills.

My job as visitor services coordinator for the Manzanita Visitors Center gives me a peek into how people view trash and recycling. It’s a microcosm of human behavior. Most folks care about properly disposing of trash and recyclable material and that alternative was readily available with a fully-functioning CARTM on hand.

But some visitors – usually during the summer months – take a narrower view of the process. I’ve come to work to find ripped trash bags dropped unceremoniously at my office door, coffee grinds, broken glass and used diapers piled high, ready to ruin my day. I’ve seen beer bottles and water bottles scattered in the dunes during my morning walk.

To combat this, CARTM offered education. The people who worked there took the time to teach others how to participate in the recycling process. They patiently instructed folks how to separate items properly, what all the 1’s and 2’s on the bottom of plastics meant, and the difference between hazardous and non -hazardous items. They also took the time to participate in educational outreach at community events, taking their message directly to potential recyclers.

It was a thing of beauty, really. An example of caring for your community at the highest level.

I’ve had the privilege of visiting CARTM hundreds of times since I moved to Manzanita in 2001.

My first trip to CARTM resulted in a nasty cut from a broken wine bottle. LeeAnn Neal kindly bandaged me up and sent me on my way. I learned about re-purposing with dishes, glassware and a ragged recliner bought from CARTM. Every job I’ve ever held locally involved a weekly visit to CARTM to feed the baler with flattened cardboard and the semi trailer with newspaper. Countless hours were spent by employees patiently reminding me to remove wine corks from bottles and lids from yogurt containers.

But with that caring, educational component missing, where will people learn these things? Will they even bother? It remains to be seen.

Finally, what happens to the name “CARTM?”

Twenty-three years of exhaustive work by many dedicated individuals went into building this brand. It came to mean something for people who used it daily and those who used it once a year. It symbolized what it meant to take action on behalf of future generations. It was with no small amount of pride that I would brag to visitors about the model CARTM had built, about the local folks who gave their time to make the name a brand.

Folks from every corner of the country had heard the name and knew its mission. I’ve lost count of the number of times a visitor told me their first stop during a visit to Manzanita was to CARTM.

I don’t think it’s a stretch to compare the CARTM brand to that of any other major logo or name. Say “Nike” and you know instantly what it is. Same with “Toyota” or “Google.” You don’t just walk into one of these companies’ board rooms and announce the immediate dissolution of that particular brand name, assuming that people will forget.

And yet, that is what the future may hold for the CARTM name. When the lights are turned off and the sign comes down, who will remember?

Like anything, CARTM wasn’t perfect. Just ask some people on social media and you’re likely to get your hair blown back by criticism.

But CARTM – in name and action – is the “shining city upon a hill.” It’s a beacon. It pushes us to be better, to do better.

So it falls to us to save that name.

To re-ignite the beacon.

To raise our hands in support of zero-waste communities.