At one time, Marlboro cigarettes used to have a rewards system for their customers called Marlboro Miles. A person could collect five miles from each pack of their assorted cigarettes and save up to get numerous prizes, from ashtrays to hats to jackets. One year, a group of friends could submit 25,000 miles collectively and earn a furnished billiards table.
Rather nice gift, but a bit difficult to collect for, especially if you didn't have the required number of friends.
I was friends with a Marlboro smoker, and helped him collect the points he needed. In return, he would get me some prizes.
I even found two dollars someone had forgotten that they had folded up and inserted in the clear Mylar plastic surrounding the pack.
Given the way so many people tossed their trash on the ground without any thought, it was surprisingly easy to save up the miles. Friends and family (some of whom did the same thing) thought I was onto a good thing, since I was basically benefitting from other people's lack of cleanliness and total laziness.
Not my grandfather.
He informed me that by picking up and using their trash to my benefit (and to my friend's, as well), I was committing theft - against the person who threw the trash on the ground. My argument that it was litter, and that by picking it up, I was benefitting the neighborhood did not change his opinion at all. The mere act of picking it up made it theft.
I found that attitude disagreeable, and more than a little weird, until another incident opened my eyes a little more.
When my daughter was little (five years old or younger), she sometimes accompanied me on my walk to the post office. On the way down, we saw a quarter laying on the sidewalk. I told her that she could pick the coin up and keep it if she wanted to.
An elderly woman, who happened to be walking in the opposite direction, saw what we did and told me, "When I was her age, my father would've made me put it back down. He would've said, 'It's not yours, so put it back.'"
My daughter kept her quarter, at my insistence. I had to tell her later that she did nothing wrong, and that the woman just had a different opinion.
I see it now as a difference between generations.
Both my dad and my grandfather told me many times that when they were younger, you just didn't find money laying around. They said that it just wasn't as plentiful as it is now.
It's still not that plentiful to me here in the 21st Century, but that's just my opinion.
But let's assume that the woman my daughter and I met was five years old in 1930, which was very possible. In 1930, a quarter would've bought you a good dinner, and you would've had change left over. When my daughter picked up the quarter, we would've been lucky to purchase a fun-sized candy bar from a grocery or a convenience store - if they had any to sell individually.
I disagreed with that woman, just as I disagreed with my grandfather, albeit for different reasons.
Every so often I find money on the ground. If I see someone drop it, then I'll either call their attention to it, or pick it up and chase after them to hand it to them. After all, it's only right.
But I've also found coins unattended, and paper money blowing in the breeze, with nobody chasing after it. I've even seen people throw down small change as if it wasn't worth their time, or efforts to save.
That shocks me, to be honest. Even if I were wealthy, I don't think I could just thrown money down on the ground. I would donate it to a charity of some sort. After all, many small town stores and convenience markets have a can set up for many worthwhile causes. They can use the change you don't want.
As far as I'm concerned, money on the ground is also free money. There's always a bill to pay, and even pennies DO add up. While I feel sorry for someone who loses a twenty-dollar bill, I am and will always be confused by someone who casually tosses aside their small change. I know one women who doesn't want any change, as it's not worth her time to save it up and cash it in.
Confusing, indeed.
One time, I walked up to a pop machine to get something ice cold to drink - and found two-and-a-half dollars in the coin return slot.
A nice benefit, if I do say so myself.
When I was eleven, my family stayed in Gatlinburg, Tennessee during one of our vacations. We had a great time, and had an aunt who happened to own a small hotel located on the banks of the Little Pigeon River.
One night, we went to the grocery store to buy some food for supper. Being eleven, and a bit flighty and easily bored, I idly pushed all the buttons on all of the machines outside the store
Without warning, one of the machines gave me a ten-ounce orange pop - which confused me at the time. "What do I do?" I asked my dad.
"Drink it," he said. "It's yours now."
I did, and it was a good one. But then again, orange pop usually is good. I still push buttons on the pop machines, but I've only had a couple freebies since then.
In fact, nowadays, all pushing the button does is to tell you how much the corresponding item will cost - or if it happens to be sold out. So, the practice is still beneficial, just in a different direction.
Now, I pick up all the coded bottle caps (and assorted cardboard packaging). It's still litter, and if the person who tossed it aside really wanted it, he or she should've kept it and disposed of it properly.
The codes I pick up supplement the ones I get from stuff I purchase, they benefit my family, and we can find some nice things when we go shopping.
Litter ceases to be property once it's tossed aside. End of story.
Peace be unto you.
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