The Art of Eating In - Cathy Erway [49]
“I don’t go too often with big, bawdy groups like I used to when I was younger. I think this is inviting trouble, and attention—from the store owners, the police. But that’s their aim, to make their mission heard, and I still respect that,” she wrote.
I asked Sam a few other questions in my next e-mail, wanting to get a better sense of how she started trash diving, and what she thought of it as a whole. I received in return a generous, thoughtful response.
Sam’s trash diving days had begun in the high school cafeteria. When friends kept throwing out half the food they’d purchased for lunch, Sam, who always brought her lunch from home instead of buying, was disconcerted by the waste. She began asking her friends if they were going to finish their lunches, and eventually they started giving her their uneaten portions of food instead of throwing them out. Pretty soon, she was ending up with far more food at lunch than she needed.
In Providence, where she grew up and still lives, Sam says it’s pretty common for people to display unwanted items on the sidewalk for others to take. Recycling goods throughout the community is seen by a lot of people as positive, or at least more “normal” than in other parts of the country. Sam also hasn’t purchased a new piece of clothing since she was in eleventh grade, and she is going on twenty-six. Much of her clothing comes from swaps with friends; some of it is found in the trash; and occasionally she’ll buy a secondhand item, which she then alters to fit. “It’s a mix of avoiding waste and not liking the way clothes are sold,” Sam wrote. “Most seem designed to have limited ‘shelf life’ by responding to trends, plus they all fit awkwardly and cost too much.”
I also asked her what kind of obstacles she encountered with trash diving as a lifestyle, aside from the chances of getting arrested (which were slim, according to her, as people were usually glad to see things thrown out going to use). She confided that some people are all too quick to insult her: “I’ve been treated like the food I have is harmful or disgusting, that going through the trash is somehow offensive, or that I’m doing this to develop a cool image. When people are afraid of not fitting in, they can quickly decide why the risk isn’t worth taking, or immediately become critical. But if I’m confident without being preachy or insistent, people realize there’s nothing to get excited about.”
On the plus side, the unforeseen advantages of trash diving far outweighed the disadvantages, to Sam. Aside from just food or clothes, Sam felt like she had gained something a lot greater.
“Making a list and buying what’s on it makes me feel bored and dead, like I’m wasting my time. When I find things by chance and improvise, I feel natural and alive. Not knowing what the groceries will be this time around is fun because I learn about new ingredients and recipes,” Sam wrote. “I’m proud to look down and see that I’ve made or found everything I’m wearing, or to invite people over for a feast that didn’t cost anything (including the dishes, dish soap, filtered water, furniture, lightbulbs, and in the past, booze!),” she concluded.
I couldn’t have thought of a more justified finale for our e-mail correspondence on the subject than that last sentence. Needless to say, I was extremely humbled and impressed by Sam’s will and creativity.
Being a frugalista, a freegan, or just a hobbyist trash diver might not be for everyone. But obviously, there are unique and great advantages to it for many. I could relate. I’m always one to use up leftovers to plan my dinners around, thinking first about what needs to be used up in the kitchen before deciding what to cook. That didn’t seem so far off from what Sam did with the grocery store Dumpster (plus, it sounded like she lived nearby a particularly fruitful one). People in less prosperous times and places have been innovating with leftover and just-about-to-expire foods since the beginning of time, and traditional