King of Beers, Lords
of Litter, what's up with Blue?
I ride my bike on the back roads of Virginia as many days as the weather and my
crazy schedule permits. On these rides I
frequently contemplate life's puzzles and today was no exception. As the icy cold air pierced my pulmonary
epithelial lining…o.k. I'll keep it real.
I had barely turned down Old Lynchburg Road to climb the first 100
ft of the 1,000 ft. of undulating grades I'd traverse today when the bright
blue litter of a Bud Light can caught my eye. A few feet further, another Bud Light
can. Over the past several years, I've
been intrigued by the proliferation of roadside litter and I've been puzzling
over why it seems that Bud Light cans, with their bold blue blaze, seem to
outnumber all other forms of litter by a considerable margin. So today, after my ride, I enlisted my environmentally
aware son to do a little roadside recycling cleanup and litter research. The results (now in our recycle bin) were
staggering. Bud Light is far and away
the favored litter for drivers who drink while driving on our local roads. Check out the cool graph below!
Why blue? Well, according
to David Hudson, Vice President of Government Affairs at Strategic Materials
Inc, "…blue is perceived by consumers as being a premium in the
marketplace." This, among other
reasons, is why Anheuser-Busch selected blue as their iconic (and easily
identifiable in roadside litter) color. Blue in polypropylene serves as a nucleating
agent and actually assists in the mechanical properties of tarps giving them
more elongation and UV-resistive properties.
For beer, blue is better. For
keeping the elements off suffering humans, blue is better. But in both instances, blue is not the natural
blue of water or sky. It's an industrial
contrivance that says, "I'm not natural."
But that's the interesting bit that I pondered while I rode
off the last of the holiday calories during my frigid ride. The tarps that provide fleeting shelter from the
sun, the cold, the rain, and the snow can be seen as an aesthetic assault on
the landscape. They can trigger a judgmental,
"There but for the grace of God…" faux sympathetic impulse as we
speed to our more suitable confines in hotels and homes. Or, like the litter on the side of the road
courtesy of consumers of Anheuser-Busch's products, they can invoke a call to
action. They can animate an impulse that
acts to bring genuine shelter to those who storms of nature or storms of
economic injustice have harmed.
Bud Light cans and Bombay
tarp slums are more alike than one might think.
Both remind us of the unnatural malignancy of indifference. A can thrown from a car window and a family
huddled against the monsoon both exist in a broader consensus neglect of a
conscious engagement with humanity and the environment in which we live. Both evidence a personal disregard for the
consequence of consumption at all cost. Both
are discarded in a moment with, at best, the fleeting thought that somebody
else will clean up the mess. But both of
them are… blue. Blue, the color
associated with serenity, sadness, peace, aloofness, contemplation among
western psychologists and social scientists, serves in Himalayan and Asian
traditions as the color of sky and heaven for sutras and prayers.
Poverty exists in dimensions far outside of monetary status.
It is not merely a lack of material
possessions. Its yawning jaws stretch
around lack of sensitivity, human awareness, environmental intelligence,
self-care, and engagement. And as we
reflect on the parable of today's ride, I trust that you allow the blue of
neglect to become your chromatic signal to engage with humanity. Rush headlong into action - building houses
for those without, inviting the homeless into your shelter, recycling refuse
from the roads you transit - and in so doing, you'll be the richer!