Andy Hinds | Parenting

If you’ve read any of my previous columns here, you know that I’m pretty much an unapologetic cheerleader for our Uptown neighborhoods. I was reminded again of how sweet it is to live here just last weekend, when my wife and I went on a double date, sans kids, which included a lovely dinner followed by the rare experience of dancing without the accompaniment of Yo Gabba Gabba. We did this all while traveling no more than a couple minutes from home.

We loved living here as a freewheeling childless couple; we loved living here as new parents who couldn’t quite bring ourselves to leave the children with a sitter and therefore dragged them along with us everywhere we went; and now we love living here as parents who have the good sense to get away from their kids every once in a while.

Even though Uptown is a veritable amusement park for kids and grownups alike, it’s a densely populated area, filled with people who have very different values, lifestyles and tastes. This social tension can be good; it’s part of what gives our neighborhoods their energy. But it can also pose challenges for anyone who lives here, including some unique ones for those of us who have kids.

We’ve all got slightly different visions for what we want our neighborhoods to be, and none of us can have it precisely our way. I recognize this, and I understand that if I lived in the suburbs I probably wouldn’t have to explain to my 3 year olds why the mannequin in the shop window is wearing nothing but undies and a leather mask. But negotiating that awkwardness is a small price for living in a place that offers such diversity.

One of these instances of tension and varying visions of the neighborhood came into high relief recently when I read a leaflet that arrived in my mailbox. It urged residents to take action against what its author perceived as the scourge of “scavengers” who “steal” recyclable materials from our bins. It even called for the closure of the recycling center at the Albertsons in North Park, which, the anonymously penned flyer contended, draws unsavory characters into the neighborhood.

Please, I thought. Our ecosystem has no room for a few self-employed environmental entrepreneurs?

I’ve always been fascinated with this underground economy and the people who make or supplement their livings within it. I’ve even stopped guys to see if they could take scrap metal I had from various home improvement projects so I wouldn’t have to haul it to the dump.

I’ve often wondered if there were self-imposed rules that kept recyclers from getting into conflicts with one another, because I’ve never seen or heard of any turf battles or personal beefs. I’ve also always been impressed at their tidiness. It would be much easier to knock over a recycling bin, pull out the good stuff and leave the rest strewn on the ground; but that never happens. So what’s the problem?

I showed the flyer to my wife, who was more sympathetic to the cause of the anti-scavenging activists than I was. It’s a little creepy to have someone going through your trash, she pointed out. Yeah, I guess so, but I figure as long as it’s out on the curb, and nobody is coming onto my property to rifle through it, whatever is in my bins is public domain.

It’s true, the parking lot at the Albertsons does sometimes look like a jamboree for urban campers, and there’s the potential that many of the people who sift through our refuse have mental health issues that make them seem threatening, especially when we think about our kids interacting with them. And I must admit, if I lived a couple blocks closer to Albertsons, I would probably have a less cavalier attitude about this issue.

Nonetheless, I don’t agree that we should try to run these people out of our neighborhood. It can be startling and sobering to be reminded, during a late-night dog walk or random glance out the window, that some people have to live off of what the rest of us toss out.

Likewise, I get uncomfortable and a little annoyed when hit up for spare change anywhere, especially near my house. But I don’t want to pretend that these folks don’t exist, and I don’t want to hide their plight from my kids by further marginalizing them. Like the bondage display in the store window, I’ll figure out how to explain the situation to my children once they start asking questions about it.