Celebrate the Holidays - Save a Tree!
Paper fetish. I have this thing about paper. Full pieces, scraps, and various textures—any part of paper that has a blank space on it draws my attention.
It started the day after college. I announced to my parents, who had come into town for graduation ceremonies, that I would be leaving the next day to ride my bike 200 miles up the California coast and that they were assigned the task of carting all my crap home.
After successfully negotiating with their conservative minds the virtues of the solo ride , I was met with my mothers heart stopping statement. “Why don’t we just throw all these boxes of old papers away, you won’t be needing those anymore.”
The conundrum of holiday wrapping...
I broke out in a cold sweat. Heaps of papers, fruits of my labor, all passing through many hands and eyes, the toil of my youth—now stacked in neat boxes. But it wasn’t the work that caused my heart rate to sour it was that naked, unused side of each sheet that pulled me in. Each small piece of tree still had half a life to live. How could I frivolously toss these items knowing this serious truth?
Unable to articulate my dilemma to my practical mother I did some additional quick convincing and the boxes were safety stowed alongside other treasures I had accumulated during this precarious time of my life.
After a couple years of carting around the goods, I decided to confront my emotional reaction. I sorted through the boxes of paper separating fully used sheets and those that with one side still usable. The unused pile was enormous. The joy! The abundance!
The frenzy continued covertly in my short stint in the corporate world. I would come into work early and rifle through the trash to rescue half used sheets. I made small stacks for coworkers to use as scrap paper and anonymously placed them on their desks front and center.
In my racing life I spent the nervous time the day before a big event sprawled out on my hotel room floor frantically sorting through my race bag. I quietly saved brochures, flyers, and ad sheets and split them in 4’s to be used as journal paper during my stay in this country or that.
Each day I as I run in my local redwood forest I smile to think that perhaps I’ve saved a small forest of trees. Ok, maybe a tree or so anyway...
Since the initial unarticulated paper fetish of my youth I’ve gone public. One Christmas I made notepads for my family and wrapped them in the paper that could no longer be written on. In a note on the top of each pad I explained my love affair with the paper and the importance of my offering to them—save a buck, save a tree, save an enormous amount of energy, reuse your half naked paper!
I cringe each holiday when I see large tacky colored rolls waiting to be bought, used, then discarded all in less time than it takes a lumberjack to rev up his chainsaw. I’ve taken to saving outdoor magazines to wrap gifts with. Oh, the visual orgy of skiing, trail running, kayaking, mountain biking and the coveted Patagonia catalogs! I top the recycled packages with old webbing or climbing rope and carabineers. Not only does this secure a small spot of clean air in our world but I’ve been told the packages clothed in visuals of adventure and adrenaline highs have inspired others to get out more.
Come clean with the reality of wasted paper! Inspire movement for that uninitiated adrenaline junkie! Save a neighborhood tree. There’s still two days left of gratuitous shopping frenzy—start your paper fetish today!
Happy Holidays,
Terri
It started the day after college. I announced to my parents, who had come into town for graduation ceremonies, that I would be leaving the next day to ride my bike 200 miles up the California coast and that they were assigned the task of carting all my crap home.
After successfully negotiating with their conservative minds the virtues of the solo ride , I was met with my mothers heart stopping statement. “Why don’t we just throw all these boxes of old papers away, you won’t be needing those anymore.”
The conundrum of holiday wrapping...
I broke out in a cold sweat. Heaps of papers, fruits of my labor, all passing through many hands and eyes, the toil of my youth—now stacked in neat boxes. But it wasn’t the work that caused my heart rate to sour it was that naked, unused side of each sheet that pulled me in. Each small piece of tree still had half a life to live. How could I frivolously toss these items knowing this serious truth?
Unable to articulate my dilemma to my practical mother I did some additional quick convincing and the boxes were safety stowed alongside other treasures I had accumulated during this precarious time of my life.
After a couple years of carting around the goods, I decided to confront my emotional reaction. I sorted through the boxes of paper separating fully used sheets and those that with one side still usable. The unused pile was enormous. The joy! The abundance!
The frenzy continued covertly in my short stint in the corporate world. I would come into work early and rifle through the trash to rescue half used sheets. I made small stacks for coworkers to use as scrap paper and anonymously placed them on their desks front and center.
In my racing life I spent the nervous time the day before a big event sprawled out on my hotel room floor frantically sorting through my race bag. I quietly saved brochures, flyers, and ad sheets and split them in 4’s to be used as journal paper during my stay in this country or that.
Each day I as I run in my local redwood forest I smile to think that perhaps I’ve saved a small forest of trees. Ok, maybe a tree or so anyway...
Since the initial unarticulated paper fetish of my youth I’ve gone public. One Christmas I made notepads for my family and wrapped them in the paper that could no longer be written on. In a note on the top of each pad I explained my love affair with the paper and the importance of my offering to them—save a buck, save a tree, save an enormous amount of energy, reuse your half naked paper!
I cringe each holiday when I see large tacky colored rolls waiting to be bought, used, then discarded all in less time than it takes a lumberjack to rev up his chainsaw. I’ve taken to saving outdoor magazines to wrap gifts with. Oh, the visual orgy of skiing, trail running, kayaking, mountain biking and the coveted Patagonia catalogs! I top the recycled packages with old webbing or climbing rope and carabineers. Not only does this secure a small spot of clean air in our world but I’ve been told the packages clothed in visuals of adventure and adrenaline highs have inspired others to get out more.
Come clean with the reality of wasted paper! Inspire movement for that uninitiated adrenaline junkie! Save a neighborhood tree. There’s still two days left of gratuitous shopping frenzy—start your paper fetish today!
Happy Holidays,
Terri
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4 Comments:
Just make sure this doesn't go beyond paper; you're frighteningly close to being America's Next Great Cat Lady. We don't want to have to dig you out of a pile of feces and kibble.
Paul - thanks for your concern :).
Definitely no chance of becoming a cat lady. Dog lady maybe, but I don't dig cats.
In any case, I'll keep an eye on myself :)....
Terri
Terri....I work for a Speakers Bureau, and we were wondering if you do speaking engagements.
Terri - Just wanted to thank you for walking the talk through your membership in One Percent For The Planet! I hope that many more follow your lead.
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