Dump

Webster will never capture the definition of the word "dump" that has been hidden in my mind for over fifty years. I often chuckle silently to myself when people talk affectionately about "The Dump." Many of them are fond of a heavily advertised retail establishment with that trade name known for bargains. Although I've never been there and dislike shopping a lot, I try to understand and be open-minded with their delight. It's obvious their mind carries a whole different image than mine does. They must have grown up in the era of sanitary landfills now portrayed on TV by those beautiful parks with squeaky clean green and white trucks driven by beaming drivers.
Our town dump was across the Susquehanna River from my home, possibly a half a mile away mile away “as a crow flies”. Although I have a diminishing sense of smell, I vividly remember a putrid horrible stench from my childhood when conditions were just right. I was reminded of that smell later while serving in various areas of the Far East and then again last year at times in Kolkata, India.
However, it wasn't just the smell etched in my mind. I remember shiny beady eyes peering out of the darkness under the beam of a powerful spotlight. My father was quite a marksman and he sometimes shot rats at the dump by spotlight on scary pitch black nights. I will never forget the sight of “huge” rats scurrying everywhere when the light exposed them. Thankfully I wasn’t alone. I know that rats have redeemed their image lately. They’ve become fashionable in recent years by serving as pet reptile food and even as pets themselves. These weren't those kinds of rats but rather big Norwegian River rats that squealed and fought among themselves.
It's amazing how many things have faded or been sanitized or hidden within my lifetime. Even though my heart went out to the children who plied the garbage in Kolkata last year, it was still garbage. I never ventured back to check under the cover of darkness, but I would guess critters still fought over the rotten decay just like they did during my childhood back in the good old United States of America.
Amazingly, a beautiful home now sits on the site of our old town dump. As you see in the commercials, many beautiful parks now proudly conceal mountains of filth and garbage. Almost makes me feel like it is patriotic and beneficial to generate my share of filth and garbage. I need to constantly remind myself that filth and garbage remain the same no matter when and where they occur and how they are merchandised or covered up. Some things never change no matter how much we try to sanitize them, and they often bring out the worst conveniently hidden in the concealing cover of darkness.