My Dumpster Diver's Gift To A Catholic Priest

One time while I was dumpster diving, I found 5 pocket sized Polish language Catholic prayer and religious study books that were at least 50 years old, but in excellent shape.

I then found out that St. Rita's Catholic Church, which was right down the street from where I lived at the time in Dundalk, Maryland, had a young Polish immigrant priest named Roman working there. I walked down to see him.

Father Roman told me that he did not get to bring any kinds of books or any religious type items at all out of his country with him, because the anti-religious commies still had control back then and they would not let him leave his home country with more than what he could carry in one small suitcase, and no religious items at all.

He did not have to tell me much about the terrible way that Communism stifles religious freedoms, I already knew the basics concerning life in Communist Poland. I have always been well aware of the repressive, torturing and murdering nature of communist bullshit, "know thine enemies", and have hated them commie rats as deadly enemies my entire life. The Polish commies had made Roman's whole life as hard as they could. But they did not defeat his nor his family's religious feelings and activities. It impressed me deeply to see him talk a little about how the communists had done their best to stop him and any other Polish citizens from becoming a priest.

It was a very emotional experience for each of us.

I am not religious myself, but fairly spiritual; it was a very spiritual experience when I gave those Polish language prayer books to Father Roman.

Could it be that we dumpster divers are sometimes being guided in our work directly by the hand of a higher power?

I don't know about all that, but it was at least a mighty fine coincidence that some d-diver saved something from a landfill and delivered it to another person whom it became very important to.

Spiritually speaking, that was cool.

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For Many Years, I Have Wanted To Find A Great Big Pile Of Hunting Gear and Guns In A Dumpster or Placed Out For Trash Truck Collection

There is one thing that I have never found, but which for many years I have fantasized about finding while dumpster diving, ducking down alleys, or curb crawling for other peoples' unwanted, chucked out goodies:

I want to find a great big pile of good hunting gear—including lots of legal guns.

I cannot afford to buy this stuff, but I love eating wild meat and have wanted to live off of hunting for my own wild meat ever since I was a teenage kid. It simply makes good sense to me. And I was once a bear hunting guide in Maine, so I know the woods and how to be a responsible hunter fairly well.

I have thought about this fantasy for so long and so often that I can no longer determine if this following statement is true or not:

One time I heard about an elderly, wealthy woman piling some of her ex-husband's hunting gear, along with some other really good goodies of his, out at the curbside on trash collection day. When the trash truck crew saw that pile, they immediately began going through it and putting some of it into the front passenger side of the truck. Then they joyfully saw the old gal carrying more goodies out to them. They asked her why it was there and why she was throwing it all out.

She explained to those trash truck guys that she had gotten a divorce from her husband of many years, that they had lived together in the house there for many years, and that she had "got rid of the son of a bitch” and now she was getting rid of anything of his that he had not taken with him when he had “left to go live with some bimbo.”

She then invited the overjoyed trash truck guys into her ex-husband’s former den and gave them all of his top-of-the-line stereo and TV equipment and the other heavy stuff that she could not carry to the curb; and then she let them have his rifles and shotguns too.

I have thought out my day dreams about finding such a great big pile of chucked out hunting gear goodies all the way through to encounters with the police seeing me taking guns outa’ some dumpster, worrying about whether they were stolen or not, yelpin’ to the cops about my former Maine Guide thing, along with explaining the true facts about my poverty as a disabled Army veteran, and that I want my load of legal hunting gear to help my life be lived a whole lot better with.

Someday, I hope to luck out while dumpster diving and/or duckin’ down alleys and/or curb crawling by finding enough hunting gear, including legal guns, to be able to keep a nice selection for my own hunting uses and then sell or trade some of the guns, and hunting clothing that doesn’t fit me, for the cost of a hunting license and for the first deer hunting trip.

Include in that pile of found hunting gear some rare old shotguns or rifles to trade for a trip or two to hunt up in Canada or out west for Elk, Moose, and yum-yum-yummy all the wild game that I can legally shoot, skin, butcher, and cure by wood smoke or store in a great big freezer at home, and I’d be one happy, and well fed, hunter.

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There May Be Eternal Rewards For Dumster Diving

Like I said in the one blog post on here, dumpster diving is honest work. And when you dumpster dive you deserve everything you can get from doing it; including the eternal good karma kinda' stuff for being good to Momma Earth—I mean c'mon now, when it's all said and done, and you become a great big snack shack for the conqueror worm, if the sum total of your life actually is tallied up and weighed out for good verses bad, to judge where your soul will spend eternity, then d-diving with its attendant saving of natural resources from being wasted has to count for something in a dumpster diver's favor.

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Piles Of Discarded Stuff In Other People’s Yards

I have the word duckin’ in the title of this blog simply because most of the homes in my area have their weekly trash pickups made behind the homes and not out front, as is done in many other areas. Hence, what I call duckin’ down alleys is also known as curb crawling.

I usually go duckin’ or curb crawlin’ right around sunset time. That gives the homeowners along my route all day to set items out for trash pickup the next morning. After it gets completely dark, it is not good to be seen moving slowly behind peoples’ homes and looking towards their backyards, or to be seen moving slowly in front of homes and looking towards the fronts of peoples’ properties. No one wants to see that kind of suspicious activity going on in their neighborhood.

Several times during my life, I have been going down the road feeling fine while casually motoring between some Sunday afternoon destinations with other things on my mind other than looking for piles of good stuff being thrown out when low and behold I spot a pile of good, usable items set out in front of a home.

Whether I am duckin’ down alleys or curb crawling or while I’m just out for a Sunday drive, and I stop to check out an opportunity to score some good items from a pile of stuff placed in front of or behind someone’s house where it is definitely there for the regular trash pickup, I feel slightly anxious while doing it.

When I am looking through the stuff for good items to take, I am always a bit fearful of being spotted by someone who sure as hell don't want no one digging through their personal trash. I also don't want to make eye contact with anyone looking out from inside a house, as this can break an invisible barrier that may be keeping them from hollering out at me. I only look down at what is in the pile of stuff, never at the houses around me. I check through it all very quickly, take what I want real fast, and make sure that the pile is left as neat as or neater than I found it.

The trickiest and scariest shit comes when I see pieces of aluminum or other recyclable metals or good fishing rods or something else that looks good sticking up out of garbage cans full of personal trash that may contain discarded mail, bank statements, S+M or other odd ball type porno or sexual devices, evidence of illegal activities, etc. in there that the home owner does not want anyone to see. They certainly don’t want me to be pulling out any embarrassing porno type items or evidence of illegal activities from where it had been hidden down in amongst other trash and secured inside of tightly closed trash bags or taped up cardboard boxes. Especially out there where any of their family members, neighbors, or any passersby could see it.

But when it is big, bulk type stuff that came from a spring cleanout or a home cleanout after a death in the family or after the house had just been sold then as long as you are not sloppy about it you should be all right. I have hit on two or three of these piles of goodies right after non-long-time-pro-dumpster-diving type individuals, who had just happened to drive by then stop when they had seen an easy obvious opportunity, had torn open trash bags and emptied out boxes, taken what they wanted then left the mess right out there next to a busy road on a sunny afternoon. I cleaned it all up and piled it back up neatly before I left.

When you are treasure hunting through trash and junk left out in front of or behind a home, you face the possibilities of having to deal with either the family members who live in the home, their friends who may happen to pull up to the scene as you are looking for good stuff, or neighbors who will sometimes check you out and ask what you are doing. They will probly be shocked to see you there and a bit pissed off about it—this is 99% guaranteed. When confronted by anyone at all, always smile sincerely and warmly, be ready to quickly return to your vehicle, act humble and grateful to find what you may have found, try to mention something about your dedication to reduce-reuse-recycling ideals, and if possible somehow throw some tid-bit about your solid status as a long time resident of the community into the conversation.

Just remembering the stress that I experience at times while going through piles of discarded items near homes and now writing about it is makin’ my chest feel a little tight and twanged inside. Doing this type of gatherin’ up of goodies is scary at times, but it is the right thing to do when you are politely saving something from a landfill and adding to your personal wealth.

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A Great Lamp Found While Dumpster Diving

Here's the story about really cool lamp that I found in a dumpster, when I was walking to and from the grocery store one day.

I often go up to the grocery store one way and come back home another way, so's I can check a variety of dumpsters along the way. I walked through the ball field across the street from me and then through the small, local park that borders the village main street type shopping center where the grocery store is. I checked some shopping center dumpsters on my way into the store, and then I came back out and walked through the alleys in the shopping center, and then walked down the alley on the other side of my apartment complex and checked the dumpsters all along the way there. It was mid week and mid day.

Best d-dives on that route are on Sundays. The weekends are when apartments of older folks, who have gone to nursing homes or to the Great Beyond, are cleaned out by their heirs, and also younger people who work all week move on weekends, or garages along the apartment complex alley are cleaned out and stuff gets chucked. Mid day mid week meant that the apartment maintenance crew was around and on duty somewhere in the complex; a few of them were hangin' out by their garage/workshop on that alley, and I walked by them while casually, discreetly d-divin.

So I'm just a scootin’ along down the alley and casually peekin’ over into the dumpsters. All of a sudden I see this cool looking lamp. I did not even stop moving along cause here comes two maintenance guys on a golf cart tooling up the alley towards their workshop. I was surrounded by ‘um; and that's too many witnesses for one of them not to be expected to tell me not to d-dive if they all see me. I swooped up the lamp, held it close to me body so's the ones back up the alley couldn't see it, grinned at the guys on the cart, they slowed down for a second and glanced at the lamp, gave each other who gives a frig looks and kept going, and I happily begun walking faster.

If the whole crew out there in the alley had all seen me grab that lamp then the highest ranking one would have been forced to do their job by telling me not to take stuff out of dumpsters, that I only have a right to put stuff in—I am a resident. The rental office is right up there near the workshop, so if they had all seen me take that lamp then somebody woulda’ hadda’ said something to me as their big boss may've been around there.

As I walked on down the alley with my lamp held in front of me, the first thing I think is that the switch must be bad, but I can replace it. When I got home, I discovered that it works fine.

The lamp is a good looking chrome, swing arm number that fits nicely by my computer and is real cool cause it has a dimmer switch that is great for adjusting the light just right while working here.

Two or three months later, I'm watching an antiques appraisal show on TV, and they did a segment on upcoming values in collectable lamps. They showed one from the 1950s, one from the 1960s, and one from the 1970s, and by jeeeeze mine is the 1960s one. It appraised at $250, and it is going up in value every year. The appraiser said the name of the famous 1960s era designer who had created the lamp, but I could not understand what he said.

I love this lamp, it fits my tastes fine. In fact, it is friggin aye perfect for where it is.

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