A Plastic Lid

Walking along the beach the other day, I saw a plastic lid from a coffee cup washing into the ocean with a wave. I grabbed it and carried it with me until I found a trash can. Such a small thing, keeping one lid out of the ocean, but I couldn’t just walk past it. It was right in front of me.

I’m trying to stop using plastic. It’s so convenient, and so hard not to use. Everything comes packaged and wrapped and bagged. It takes work to put down the bottle, the jug, the bag or the clamshell and find another way to purchase and carry items I need. The challenge to find ways to store food and other items at home is real after living for so long with ziplock bags and plastic wrap. I’m terrible about remembering to bring my own water bottle or grocery bags.

So much plastic has been discarded, though–especially in the ocean–that huge plastic trash islands cover swaths of the ocean surface, some as big as the state of Texas. Most plastic production is for packaging and single-use items. Eventually, plastic breaks down into smaller and smaller bits and fibers, and is eaten by marine life, getting into fish and plants and animals and water and people.

I can’t keep doing it.

It’s starting to be important to me to use less plastic–not simply as an intellectual agreement, but as a motivation to change my habits.  I can’t single-handedly reverse what’s happening, but I’m aligning myself with the earth against over-consumption and our collective madness for all things disposable. I want to stop for my peace of mind, even if it doesn’t make a difference and if no one else does it. I feel more whole and grounded when I’m acting with an awareness of the big picture. It’s slower, it can be tedious, but it’s satisfying to be more intentional and thoughtful about what I buy and how it impacts the earth.

Of course, there are less altruistic, green-hearted moments when I’m alone in the grocery aisle. I wonder if my stand against plastic means much. The plastic is already there, lined up on the shelves. One more jug won’t matter, and the popcorn seems fresher when it’s sealed up in it’s own thick container. Sometimes I’m in a hurry. Or tired. Or thirsty, and the bottled water is cold in the cooler at the checkout line. I probably won’t make the critical difference.

I know, the logic goes that if customers stop using one thing and ask for another, eventually companies will respond to keep sales up.  As I’m writing this, I remember that I have seen that happen with other things. It’s real.

Organic foods are a good example. In the past 10 years, my local grocery store  has added a whole section of organic produce, dairy products, and canned goods–everything from flour, sugar and spices to dog food. There is not only an organic version, there is a generic organic option. Humanely farmed, grass-fed and uncured meats are a prominent part of the meat department. Even giants like Costco and Walmart offer a wide selection of organically grown foods and health, beauty and cleaning products free of harmful chemicals. Green products, like toilet paper made with recycled paper and compostable plates and utensils, are readily available. Critics say the labels don’t mean as much as we think, but at the least, producers are responding to customers’ growing preference for sustainably produced food and household products.

I’ve also seen a difference since 2007, when our city banned single use plastic bags, the light-weight, grocery-store kind known as T-shirt bags. The state banned them in 2015, eliminating more than half of the plastic bag litter along the state’s beaches after only one year. I have suffered no shortage of plastic bags since then–almost everything still comes in a bag, and bread bags work just as well to clean up after the dog as grocery bags. Just recently, another large source of litter, plastic straws, has been restricted and banned in some cities and states. One step at a time, plastic is being used less through legislation. Plastics are less readily available because of the law, and at the same time, it is making me more mindful of what I am using, and encouraging me to find more ways to stop using plastic.

It’s becoming more common for businesses to use compostable lids and produce bags instead of plastic ones. I was happy to discover compostable produce bags at Trader Joe’s. They work exactly the same, but they eventually decompose. To avoid bag use altogether, I started putting my produce on the conveyor belt loose. My lettuce, carrots, apples and eggplants don’t seem to mind. If something does need to be bagged, like food from the bulk bins or something fragile or small–tomatoes or mushrooms, for instance–I have reusable mesh bags that work well. They’ve been easy to use, and now that I’m getting in the habit of bringing them to the store, I actually prefer them.

There’s so much plastic to think about: detergent bottles, cheese wrappers, dog food bags, meat trays, shampoo bottles–the list is overwhelming. It is everywhere, every day. I can’t let that cause me to give up. One lid kept from washing into the surf, one step at a time, and by doing what is right in front of me, I’m trying to stop using plastic. I love walking on the beach and swimming in the ocean too much to ignore it.