The Last Straw

Main Entry: plastic

Function: noun

Date: 1905

1 : a plastic substance; specifically : any of numerous organic synthetic or processed materials that are mostly thermoplastic or thermosetting polymers of high molecular weight and that can be made into objects, films, or filaments
2 : credit cards used for payment —called also plastic money

from Merriam Webster on line

My family cooking out in the back yard late 1950's. Note my father in his "Bermuda shorts suit." He was known to wear this (as well as the green or orange golf pants described below) to business meetings.

My father was a textile engineer.  One of my earliest memories of him is when he took out a magnifying glass and showed me what his suit jacket looked like under magnification. Under the hand held-glass, the scratchy grey fabric was a jungle of color and twisted fibers–another world–right there on my father’s arm.  Years later, I remember him bringing home a coil of nylon rope from work, or “Caprolon” as Allied Chemical was calling their version of “Nylon” at that time it.  “Look,” he said, showing me a tightly round shinny white loop of rope, the rope itself no bigger than my young index finger in diameter, “Look,” he said, “This rope could pick up a car!”  When I thought of the clunky black ’58 Chevrolet Impala in our driveway, and looked at that seemingly dinky stuff–I thought–“ummm, sure Dad, are we talking miracle here or what?”

My father, who was on the road weekdays traveling to New York, South Carolina and Virginia visiting Allied Chemical offices and factories, was always arriving home with something new and peculiar.  One spring Friday he came home with nylon golf pants–2 pairs–one a shiny  neon green and the other an incredible reddish orange.  This was the late 50’s and early 60′s when the bravest thing I had ever seen a man wear was a pair of madras shorts.  One Christmas we covered our tree with “Nylon” angel hair–so different from the spun glass stuff.  Words like safe, non-toxic, and wonder-product were used.  I think it was my junior year in high school when my Dad’s New York secretaries make him a red nylon Santa suit, stretchy with white nylon trim and a cap to match.  That Christmas Hip Hop dudes had nothing on my father.  With this  red outfit–saggy, shiny and tight all at the same time, draped over a portly balding middle aged guy who had been called “The Head” in college because of the size of said feature–he toured the neighborhood and then the larger expanse of town crying “Ho Ho Ho and nuts and fruits and candy for you”  to friends and neighbors, strangers and the world.

This is a story about my Father, but it is also a story about  the development of polymers in the world, especially after WWII.   This synthetic combining of materials bringing us  such things as  nylon hosiery and carpets, polyester suits, and plastics galore for use everywhere to make everything cheaper, cleaner, neater, purer, lighter, easier, was where it was at–and still seems to be for most of us.  I googled Caprolon and the page that comes up is about chemical properties, has headings like “Caprolons modified with fullerenes and fulleroid materials.”  To a non-scientist this is Ancient Greek and I glaze over looking at the page.

This I understand: I sit at a desk made of extruded wood covered with white formica.  I type on my plastic encased laptop  plugged into my plastic encased hard drive and printer.  On my desk are stacks of (plastic) CDs and DVDs related to art and life.  This morning I am wearing blue tights made stretchy by some wonderful polymer inspired something–the same goes for the cover of my down vest and the warm boots I am wearing, inside and out.  I sit in comfort,  at my naugahyde desk, wearing my vinyl fake-fur boots, able to communicate with the wide world from my mostly plastic computer.  Truly, this is a miracle.

This year as I attempt to dodge disposable plastic in every way possible, I have been pleasantly surprised again and again by people.  Last night I spoke with long time friend Beverly McIver.  When I told her what I was doing she said, “You know–I never, ever use styrofoam–I just don’t.”  I am seeing on some very fundamental level, people want to pay attention. We are all benefitting from the progresses of the world, what plastic has done for us, yet, mostly, once we notice its excess, we want to do something about that as well.  I never know who will give me a good tip as to where to find food not wrapped in plastic–Thank you, Rebecca, for spotting those coconuts at Whole Foods.  In fact, just as my Dad brought home the miracles of plastics in the 50′s, perhaps our new generations of Moms and Dads are bringing home solutions to our unnecessary use and abuse of it.  We are beginning to pay attention.

Check out this from the Sierra Club about plastic bags—about the the problems they cause.