One Earth, one town and one man: life on the big blue marble
By Jenaye Antonuccio (photo by Sherry DiBari)
Forty-some years ago, while astronauts explored the moon, they witnessed the earth begin its rise over the moon’s horizon. The astronauts broke protocol and snapped quick photographs. Those images moved us. Margaret Mead observed, “But it was not until we saw the picture of Earth from the moon that we realized how small and helpless this planet is, something that we must hold in our arms and care for.”
A few years later, two Earth Days were established. The first, created by peace activist and scientist John McConnell, took place on March 21, 1970 and was sanctioned by the United Nations to be celebrated on the vernal equinox. The other, founded by Sen. Gaylord Nelson of Wisconsin on April 22, 1970, began on college campuses and is now celebrated nationally. The premise of both was to emphasize the need to share responsibility as environmental stewards or trustees of earth.
Since then, we are still faced with frightening environmental conditions. But in Athens, many have strived to preserve our good earth, needing no reminders. Here is one such steward’s story.
“The thing about recycling,” says Ed Newman, “is you gotta use business principles to make it work, even though it is an ecologically, environmentally-based thing to do.” Newman, Ohio University’s refuse and recycling manager, gives a basic example of a recyclable’s journey: collection leads to sorting and processing, then to brokering, marketing, and final transporting to re-manufacturing for re-consumption by the public. “It’s not just the grooviness factor of reducing waste; it is a very politically charged issue,” he says.
“Managing waste makes a lot of sense,” says Newman. “It is a way to democratize the flow of materials and energy so that it benefits the community and the environment." He adds, “If this is done closer to home, then money stays closer to home, is circulated through the community, and generates a tax base to cover things like road maintenance.”
In 1975, five years after the first Earth day, Newman began his life in Athens by observing the city and the outskirts. As an environmental biology major, he says a few things bothered him: First, Earth Day’s founding had sparked the community’s initial recycling efforts, organized at the ATCO sheltered workshop, but a dispute over funding for a needed new roof inevitably left the program to fall through the cracks. Second, a large amount of out-of-state trash was being trucked to fast-filling area landfills, none of which were publicly owned. Third, illegal dumping was clogging rivers and marring the landscape.
Newman recalls, “I met other like-minded people and we ended up starting to get together to try to think this thing through, to see what could be done to provide better opportunities.” The volunteers’ cleanup and recycling efforts through and alongside the Arbor Day Committee lead to the development of Southeastern Ohio Recycling Terminal (SORT).
“Appalachia is not necessarily thought of as being the leader in solid waste and consumption, but we were making a lot of impact,” Newman recalls.
In February 1983, Newman acquired a job description. “Trash narc” is what he calls it; the Athens City County Health Department’s official title was “nuisance control officer” - one who enforces laws against illegal dumping.
He recounts his task the first day on the job: “A cleanup of 35 dump truck loads of trash, dumped over the side of the road into a hollow that was actually damming the stream, next to Desonier Wildlife Area.” Numerous similar tasks followed, while he also organized dumpsite and litter cleanups, developed recycling opportunities, and promoted sound solid waste management.
Eight years passed. Newman says 1990’s 20th anniversary of Earth Day was stirring renewal of earth-minded awareness. The county’s then-free recycling pickup, including OU’s campus, was restructured and required a user-fee contract. Because the university wouldn’t pay, he says, they were cut off from services. Trash piled up; recyclables went unclaimed. Everyone was told to simply throw it away. But rising costs of trash disposal and environmental concerns forced the university to put together a recycling budget and search for a manager. Newman interviewed along with others, and was offered the job.
Whether salvaging reusables from pre-renovation halls, championing composting, picking up 1,800 pizza boxes from behind the Convocation Center, or delivering unused food to local food banks, Newman’s days are full.
One of his best-known accomplishments during his tenure is the co-founding of RecycleMania, a nationwide college campus recycling competition. The idea was simply to motivate students to recycle. “It’s a really good tool to get people engaged in this activity,” says Newman. “It’s better than what I call ‘speaking from the pulpit of the recycling church’ about how to save the planet - that’s not what gets people’s attention. But people love to kick each other’s ass on anything.”
This year’s competition just came to a close. From the 510 schools participating in the U.S. and Canada, 69.4 million pounds of waste was recycled over a 10 week period.
Whether it is the year 1975 or 2009, Newman looks at his role this way: “As part of this community, I try to make a positive impact. I like working with others to do that.” He adds, “We all revel in doing this and celebrating it together. There is nothing better than accomplishing something and everyone says, ‘We did a good job’”.
He claims it boils down to this: “Would you rather be an environmentalist, or an isolationist, or a destructionist? We all are environmentalists - we are all a part of it. It is not something that becomes a few people's responsibility.”
Within four years, at age 55, he’d like to retire. “I work a lot and my body is beat from overuse,” says Newman. “People say, ‘You can’t retire!’ and I say, ‘Sure I can, I have to! There are a lot of things I want to do yet other than just working all the time.’” He adds, “I’ve always chosen to work in the public sector and that has been rewarding, but there comes a time when you have to pass it on for others to do.”
Until then, he’ll continue to aim for his original goal: zero waste for the institution.
He says he won’t miss racing against time with multiple things that require his focus. Something he will consider a luxury: “Just being able to get absorbed in something and see it through, playing more music, more bricking, hanging out with family and friends, having more of my own time.”
Newman has played hammer dulcimer with the popular local traditional Irish dance music group, Boys of the Hock, for countless years and says he thoroughly enjoys the social entertainment – whether playing at Jackie O’s, for weddings, festivals, or in bigger cities. The band put out a CD this year.
Ohio is a hot spot for bricks, according to Newman. As a member of the International Brick Collectors Association, Newman can share his extensive brick collection and knowledge at national brick swaps. He has found most bricks while walking through the rural woods with his wife and friends, no matter what the weather. “Weather,” says Newman, “doesn’t dictate my mood. I’ve had my best luck on rainy, cold, nasty days by far.”
He likes Athens because, “Not everything costs money or is assigning value to your life.” And wildlife, according to Newman, is what helps our landscape more than we give credit: the geese repopulating along the river make it less sterile; beaver dams that cause flooding help restore damaged landscape.
No matter what fills Newman’s days, his central drive has always been: “Love for a better world, have fun doing good work, and enjoying other people's company.”
