In with new format, out with the old junk at Tox-Away Day

With old television sets getting their plug pulled and discarded paint collected by the gallon Saturday, the West Central Solid Waste District conducts its annual Tox-Away Day effort at Greencastle High School.

High noon had passed Saturday and 1 p.m. closing time was descending upon Tox-Away Day 2014, yet the lines at the new Greencastle High School parking lot site appeared ever increasing.

Putnam County residents had queued up consistently over the five-hour disposal period, waiting patiently to take advantage of their annual opportunity to rid garages, basements and closets of old paint, used oil, obsolete computer equipment and appliances long past their expiration dates.

On such a warm, sunny day, the Johnny-come-lately timing wasn't lost on Jim Parker, owner and president of NuGenesis, the Mooresville recycling company that partnered with the West Central Solid Waste District to produce Saturday's annual event.

NuGenesis worker Christy Adviento deposits buckets of paint into collection containers.

"We call it the 'brother-in-law syndrome,'" smiled Parker, whose work gloves and green company T-shirt belied his executive status, making him look for all the world like just another worker unloading pickups and SUVs along the recycling trailer maze.

The brother-in-law syndrome, he explained, has evolved from common comments heard annually from late arrivals.

The excuse, Parker said, is always, "I had to wait for my brother-in-law to get here after 11 to help me load the refrigerator."

NuGensis owner and president Jim Parker hands off a flat-screen TV to be recycled during the five-hour event.

As of noon Saturday, Jane Collisi of West Central reported more than 400 vehicles had gone through the line.

And even without the late large appliances, West Central Solid Waste and NuGenesis had collected enough outmoded electronics to outfit the nearest Best Buy.

Vehicle after vehicle dropped off big-screen TVs, flat screens, Apple II SE or Commodore 64 computers, all long obsolete, well past their prime or just doomed by fried circuit boards.

"Isn't it amazing," offered Prentice Parker, 70-year-old brother of the company owner who volunteered at the Greencastle site Saturday, "what we as Americans just throw away? Ah, the wonderful world of recycling ..."

He pointed to a towering skid of TV sets flanked by an ancient console model in a nice wooden cabinet now dysfunctional even as a piece of furniture, thanks to a blown picture tube.

"Look at the TVs," Parker added. "Nobody fixes these things any more. Your TV goes bad, get a flat screen. Your flat screen goes bad, get another one."

That sad refrain is one reason homeowners cannot set a television out with the trash.

Brother Jim Parker chimed in, pointing out all the 1990s model TVs in the pile.

"It's the phenomenon of the black TVs," he said. "We started seeing that about four or five years ago, especially when flat screens started to be more affordable."

Now all those old black sets with the tube poking out the back either end up on the shelves of Goodwill or the recycling pile on days like Saturday.

The Greencastle collection site featured locations to drop off paint, fluorescent bulbs, electronics, tires and appliances. Gallons and gallons of oil also seemed to arrive with every pickup truck or farm vehicle.

"I never knew there was so much oil in the world," one female NuGenesis worker lamented.

Owner Parker praised the new set-up on the GHS parking lot. Vehicles entered off Washington Street, turned onto the roadway in front of the school office and wound their way through the lot.

Parker said his company has partnered with West Central for about six years and although the effort worked well at the fairgrounds, the set-up at GHS seemed more efficient and organized in a wide-open area.

Meanwhile, at least twice during the day, pickups came through with enticing items in their beds.

In the bed of one maroon truck, an electric organ could be spotted as it snaked its way through the lot toward the electronics area. Even Prentice Parker had his eye on that one until the driver said it was part of a separate delivery.

The same held true for a wood-and-metal porch glider that looked like a bench from a ways away. The women taking money under a small tent at the east edge of the lot spied that early on, too.

One of them even "called it."

"That's my bench," she told everyone within earshot.

Of course, when that truck rolled past, it was learned the glider was also on its way elsewhere.

So in the true spirit of recycling, both items live on to fight and function another day.