Why We Waste Gifts (And What We Can Do Differently)
Plastic petals. Candy wrappers. Tattered ribbons. It was no surprise on my weekly beach clean up that I came across dozens of what I would consider to be “Valentine’s Day gift trash”. Sadly, man-made waste is never hard to find — even if you aren’t looking. And so especially as a regular beach cleaner, I am never shocked by the diversity of trash; although I am fascinated by the alternative gifts that nature has to offer us.
You might be surprised to learn how exactly how topical seasonal beach trash really is. But it’s true. I see a swell of bubble wrap in the weeks following Christmas, tons of firework remnants after 4th of July festivities, and many other genre-specific garbage pops up around various dates as surely as they appear on our calendars.
This year was no different. Even with a holiday that not everyone celebrates — and certainly one that is enjoyed very differently by many people — I was disappointed by exactly how much Valentine’s Day garbage I found on my weekly beach clean up as mentioned (and as seen in the video above).
Even only having access to clean between the water and the high tide line because of recent snows, I unearthed an entire bucket of what I considered to be Valentine’s Day related waste (there was much else out there as always that I picked up too of course).
Stepping out of my car, I was greeted with a scattering of hundreds of faux-flowers, littering the snow-ice blacktop just as real petals might. How did they get here? As with most beach trash, it’s hard to say — though I like to think that my years of beach cleaning has gifted me a sort of “investigatory lens” into such sources of ocean pollution. Likely, someone set up some sort of surprise display with them — one that either went awry, or was simply left unattended. Either way, what perhaps started as a genuine display of affection, devolved into plastic garbage that will far outlive its momentary expression of care.
Once on the beach, these souring discoveries continued: fancy chocolate wrappers, bouquet remnants, and ribbon strands among many other of the typical gift corpses. Again, some of these items were certainly left at the beach itself— maybe discarded or forgotten while on romantic strolls — but others came from tipped over trash cans, borne by wind and rainwater down to lower-lying beach areas as is always the case with street-level pollution.
All of these observations tie into a larger realization (or perhaps at least a larger rumination) over what gift-giving and holiday sharing is really “all about”. Why do we give gifts? Do they really show how we care? And are there alternatives?
I should note that none of these questions or suggestions are meant to be judgmental or shaming. People live immensely busy and challenging lives. What opportunities one person has may not be a privilege that another can take advantage of. It’s easy for me to say “just pick wildflowers at the beach”. But if you don’t live that close to natural habitats, or don’t have the time because of work and other life responsibilities to journey out on such adventures, these suggestions risk sounding preachier rather than practical, which is the opposite of my point.
Rather, I ask that we all ask what it is we can do to try to find creative, sustainable alternatives when and where they are available in our own lives? Or at the very least, to pick up more when we find the leftovers. For me — and those who frequent beaches — there are plenty of wildflowers, shells, seaglass, and other nature ocean treasure that can be bound into jewelry or cards or simply presented along with perhaps more genuine expressions of how we really feel.
The bigger challenge here is to ask ourselves how we really feel about our relationships with those with whom we share gifts. Are we giving these items because a date on the calendar tells us to? Or are we putting the time, effort, and thought into expressing what people really mean to us in a way that will help to ensure that future generations will have a living world with which to do the same?
Again, there are no answers here. No judgement nor shame. Just questions and thoughts. And a hope that moving forward this year, our collective mindfulness will help to make my weekly beach cleanups seem a little less able to tell me what holiday just passed on the calendar.
