Suze Bragg

Is the US a throw-away Nation?

In my eight hour train ride from Winston-Salem, NC to Washington, DC this past weekend, I witnessed a view of America I had never paid attention to before.  Rolling through people's backyards; voyeuristically staring at the boarded windows of once thriving small town businesses, their faded signs dangling from broken awnings, and peering through the dilapidated openings of enormous vacant factories, my father-in-law made a quiet observation: almost all the buildings we passed were built for a short life span. 

Few structures—from the rusted, leaning metal storage sheds dotting backyards, to the plywood houses with vinyl siding, to the careless way people threw their possessions haphazardly around to rot in the blazing sun—were made to last for centuries to come. There were a few stone buildings and gates that whispered of times when people took great pains to build structures that could withstand the elements, not to mention Civil War, the Great Depression, and multiple children's playful destruction. The possessions owned during this time, now stored behind glass in the museums we visited, were lovingly maintained, mainly because things were harder to come by and people survived on less, regardless of their income.

I replayed mental tapes from my grandparents telling stories of owning one pair of shoes and a couple dresses. Closets were smaller. People shared one bathroom. Their main entertainment came not from the possessions they acquired--or insisted on having--but from the people and family they socialized with.  In my teenage years, I gaffed at their "poorness", wondering how anyone could survive without multiple outfits for different occasions with various shoes to match.  I cast aside merchandise in Goodwill bins without a glance, since everything in my teenage mind was dispensable and the money I made from my part-time waitress job could buy more when the whim hit me.  That was—and is—the mindset of most people today and the marketplace obviously accommodates it.  It doesn't matter whether or not we the consumer can afford it; if we want it, we'll find a way.

Now, sitting on the train, I watched the flimsy metal sheds fly by and examined the houses that were built twelve years ago, with the construction withering as if 75 years had already passed. I reflected on my train travels in Europe and the stone structures of Switzerland, the masonry of France, and the architecture in Rome that have stood hundreds and hundreds of years. These were my views from the Euro train windows, but didn't resemble what I witnessed here. Living in a historic home myself, I am intimately aware that houses from the turn of the 20^th century were built to last, but rarely are they made this way today.  My friends in McNeighborhoods nearby are already complaining about faulty construction and costly repairs.  Our society’s standards for quality--the train ride subtly pointed out--have brought forth throw-away buildings and products that weren't meant to last but a few decades.

Years ago, many businesses prided themselves on their customer service and quality products, and it was less of a marketing statement than an actual way of life.  It wasn't just "the good old days", it was a mindset, a belief that we as dispensable creatures should make things of value to pass along to future generations to remind them of their heritage, and what came before them.  Businesses didn't run around marketing their products with good for the environment, organic or local product because most things were manufactured locally, grown locally, and sold locally.  Today, those factories and farms are merely carcasses, scattered along the train tracks as we rolled by.

Everywhere consumers turn there are ads for saving the environment, sustainable goods and organic products. The youth of our culture think this is new hip way to be. What people are missing is that we never had to leave this way of life in the first place. There are hundreds of books lamenting why this happened and its economic toll on the U.S. economy. But it seems nobody has approached it from a Vincent Bugliosi prospective: seeing what is happening instead of what we expect to be happening. Manufacturers create less expensive products with a shorter lifespan so consumers will buy more often, which fuels consumer demand for bigger, better, cheaper, MORE, so manufacturers dispense their assets—our people—to stay competitive. What a catch-22.

Consumers, and some businesses, expect the U.S. economy to continue thriving, so we can continue buying, but now we’re sitting at the crossroads of a possible great recession and the products we own don’t have a long shelf life.  People are going to be hanging on to goods that were never meant to last, and the backlash will be an interesting test of our society’s sanity; rather like yanking candy from babies and reprimanding them each time they try to take candy from the child sitting next to them.

Nobody wants to be reminded that neighborhoods are floundering under foreclosures, banks are closing, and people have lost their jobs to cheaper labor overseas. Ironically, Germany is building manufacturing plants in Tennessee because the U.S. is now known to the E.U as the land of cheap labor. The so-called glory days are at a stand still.

So what do we, as small businesses, do?

I believe the next step involves a simple dose of common sense. When selecting the products to sell, purchase ones that make a difference: ones built to last, invests back into the community in which you reside, and aren’t harmful. This in turn will guide your consumers to make wiser purchasing decisions, which will force the manufacturers to make better products. Sounds simple, doesn’t it? That’s because demand creates supply and we’re reaching our tipping point.   As gas prices rise and more and more people use trains as a mode of transportation, maybe they, too, will begin to understand what it all means. And maybe, just maybe, all those vacant buildings and junk piles that line the train tracks will slowly be reused, recycled, and built better.   And then, one by one, our wish for a more attractive, sustainable landscape will become a reality. It all starts with a decision to change...

To give you an idea of the types of views we had, here are some that are similar:
Picture from the Washington Post
Typical junkyard
Rocky Mount, NC 
Old station in Rocky Mount, NC
An old house and car

Posted by Suze Bragg on July 28, 2008 | Comments (4)