I’ve often written about the colorful and simpler 1970s, my all-time favorite decade. For I was boy growing up in the Bronx back then. The fact that New York City suffered through a fiscal crisis during those years—with conspicuous cuts in services like policing, sanitation, and park upkeep—mattered little to me. Sure, that snapshot in time has a well-deserved reputation for being on the scarier and the dirtier side of the ledger. The subways, for one, were an unattractive visual of grime and graffiti, crime infested, and prone to break down. And, while on the subject of visuals, the urban decay in some parts of the city resembled war zones and became photo-op stopovers for grandstanding politicians of all stripes.
I nevertheless remember that my neighborhood and the surrounding ones were a whole lot cleaner and certainly less congested than they are today. There are so many more vehicles on the area roads in 2016—and it’s every man and every woman for him or herself. Crossing the street at a green light is sometimes more dangerous than crossing on red. Pedestrians, it appears, no longer have the right away.
Recently, I’ve been channeling Iron Eyes Cody, aka the “Crying Indian,” from the popular “Keep America Beautiful” public service announcement commercials of the 1970s. Cody is seen in them canoeing through litter-strewn waterways with unsightly, belching smokestacks in the backdrop. He is understandably distraught at what he beholds. Later, on foot, Cody emerges at the edge of a busy highway, where a bag of garbage is hurled out of a passing car’s window. It burst open at his feet. This indignity is the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back and Cody sheds a famously big tear.
Fast forward forty years and “there’s a lot of litter messing up our land” and those “litterbugs are getting out of hand.” What I know wasn’t the norm in the old neighborhood—fiscal crisis or not—were individuals in parked cars using the great outdoors as a garbage dump. It’s commonplace in these parts to find today’s lunch remains or yesterday’s lottery stubs strewn across the ground at curbside. Apparently, it’s too much for too many people to find a nearby garbage can. They are—I can attest—all over the place. Can’t find a litter receptacle? Take the stuff home and dispose of it there! Is that too much to ask?
(Photo three from the personal collection of Nicholas Nigro)