The Green Issue

The editorial staff at Urban Tulsa Weekly makes every effort to stay abreast of current happenings in our city, county, state, country and world and pump ourselves full of information every week in order to better inform our readers. I personally have signed up for more listservs than I can count, and my inbox is constantly flooded with 100 or more e-mails at a time from community writers about various topics.

One listserv I signed onto early on was Oklahoma Sustainability Network (OSN), which is moderated by Bob Waldrop and facilitates discussion from green-minded people all over Oklahoma. With this listserv, all of the e-mails come rolling in 10 at a time, which can overwhelm an already full inbox, but, reading through these e-mails, I got a lot of ideas for stories related to sustainability in Oklahoma.

Thanks to this group and its smaller chapters, like Sustainable Tulsa and Sustainable Green Country, sustainability--meaning longevity of the earth's ecological systems--is a word that can be and has been incorporated into almost any Oklahoman's vocabulary. Though we're still just a little ways behind other states in terms of ecological preservation and personal sacrifice for the good of the environment, it's an idea everyone's getting a little more used to, an issue everyday Okies are seeing as an important one.

We (at UTW and in the media in general) always tend to push the "green issue" concept around Earth Day, April 22. This year, though, the UTW editorial staff decided to try something a little diffr'nt.

We decided, since your mind will already be on "green" issues (mainly beer), St. Patrick's Day would be a great time of year to encourage all of our readers to go green. (Pretty clever, yeah?)

The OSN listserv offered ideas for green topics I hadn't heard discussed anywhere else. And while those of you who subscribe to OSN may already know what Freegans are or have used a Kill-A-Watt, there's a good chance most of are readers don't get OSN's e-mails and will learn something new here. As always, we chose topics that are close to home, that affect Tulsans directly but also have a wider impact.

So, while you're boozing it up on green beer this weekend and chowing down on corned beef and potatoes, we hope your mind will wander to other green things. Like the earth. And the little (and sometimes weird) ways people are trying to improve it.

Got Green?

Just because you can, doesn't mean you should spend it on junk

Discretionary income should be directed more by the cerebrum than the medulla oblongata; and creative energy spent on dumpster diving

By Jessica Naudziunas

Freeganism. An alternative lifestyle represented by crunchy thieves, dreadlocked dumpster divers, or just a corporate lawsuit waiting to happen.

These freegans ("free" meets "vegan") are people whom a Whole Foods manager would love to see roaming the produce aisle, but instead cringes because these people are simply asking for handouts.

Company policy and fear of a lawsuit keep businesses from donating to those economical shoppers who want to make the most of unnecessary packaging and wasted food. Stores, such as Whole Foods, are weary of contributing to this auxiliary culture.

According to www.freegan.info, "Freegans are people who employ alternative strategies for living based on limited participation in the conventional economy and minimal consumption of resources. Freegans embrace community, generosity, social concern, freedom, cooperation, and sharing in opposition to a society based on materialism, moral apathy, competition, conformity, and greed."

Waste minimization is key to a freegan lifestyle. This means painstakingly recycling everything that passes through a household: plastics, cans, food (composting), etc. Freegans preach repair and reuse instead of newly purchased.

Just as in any sub culture, freeganism contains extremism. Squatting in abandoned housing is one thing, while voluntary joblessness is another.

Whatever freegan pole, the goal aims toward the green life, at least a small segment of it.

Did you see that one coming?

One in Favor

James Schrader, owner and chef of Cherry Street's The Palace Café, is apprehensive to handing out discarded food, but isn't opposed to a little dive in the dumpster every once in a while.

"I wouldn't allow someone to eat discarded food out of the Palace dumpster; we don't produce a lot of waste anyway," he continued, "Just bones and a few rancid items. Nothing of nutritional value.

"We use everything that comes through here. But it is true, there is so much food going to waste everyday--especially at grocery stores where owners can't keep food around to sell if it is passed it's expiration date. They are forced to throw it out," he said.

Schrader is also an advocate for another facet of the varied freegan lifestyle that includes digging through curbside garbage.

"I was out in Florence Park walking my dog and found a great coffee table. We use it in the restaurant," said Schrader.

The coffee table was cleaned up and is now used in The Palace's dining room.

Schrader supports freeganism, but he also knows where to draw the line.

"I understand where people are coming from, if you give someone food that has spoiled, you are the one to blame. I would not be well with giving someone food that may make them ill," he said.

Perhaps a statistic lesson would sway corporations like Whole Foods. The average American generates four pounds of trash per day. That weight adds up to approximately 1,460 pounds per year. Reusing another person's unwanted furniture is a great way to cut down on unnecessary manufacturing and, in turn, excessive land filling.

It Takes Heart

Freeganism is easy to do in a major urban area. In practice, it takes heart to freeganize. Not to be discouraged by the lack of alleys or angry health foodie naysayers, UTW set out to discover the ease in Tulsa freeganism.

The first stop was Borders Books and Music. It was a simple choice. Magazines expire; books go on sale. They have to get rid of them at point.

"We actually send them back to our distributors if they don't sell," said the manager.

I checked the dumpster, just to be sure.

She was right, just old coffee cups and trash bags.

After a failed attempt, my freegan spirit was raring to go. I trekked over to Whole Foods at 41st and Peoria despite prior warning.

Expecting to be tazed or dragged off, I was surprised and somewhat disappointed at the dearth in Whole Foods' goons. There was an abundance of, well, whole food.

I won't divulge my findings, but let's just say it was the cheapest and most filling trip to Whole Foods ever.

With a slightly full stomach and in hope of finding more free stuff, I headed to the generic side of grocery shopping in Tulsa: Reasor's. Where you can easily find succulent clementines one day and mealy jonagolds the next, this store is good for most.

Expecting to find trash bins full of expired mashed potatoes, I was met with an old bag of bananas and a loaf of smashed bread. Too full from my feast, I left the food on top of the dumpster cover for the next hungry freegan on the hunt.

The last stop on the Tulsa freegan tour might've been your front lawn. Or, your garbage can. Luckily, my neighborhood's garbage pick up day fell on the same day as my freegan experiment.

Touring the neighborhood behind Cherry Street is pure freegan delight on trash pick up day.

Old books, a chaise lounge, and a family size container of Gatorade lemon-lime sport drink powder are just a few of the things I took home.

I'm pretty sure the person who left the chaise lounge saw me struggling to carry it home, but to be a freegan is to be fearless.

So, be brave! Be frugal! Go explore your neighbor's trash, or thumb your nose at corporate policy. You'll not only save a little cash, but find an array of unexpected goodies.