Glass Mountain

Tucked away in the back of Newark Civic Center Park, away from the hustle and bustle, ”Civic Oasis” is an island of rosemary bushes, rose bushes, lavender, and much more. If you only visit the playground and library, you’d overlook this discrete open space.

There aren’t many plants, but just enough to provide shelter against the afternoon winds and remind you that pollinators haven’t all succumbed to colony collapse disorder. A park bench invites you to immerse yourself in the Tri-City Voice as your toddler bikes the ½ mile loop that cradles the soccer field, or as your kid and playmates navigate the thick bushes they call “forts”, or invites your teenager to enjoy her first kiss.

This space is no secret to those residents that lap the paved loop for exercise in the early morning and early evening hours. It doesn’t take long to notice that only the nocturnal use this space. There are no infants crawling around investigating the beautiful flowers or peering into the bushes or chewing on the harmless sticks. Why? Because the shards of glass—that have accumulated over years of neglect—take all the tranquility out of the experience. But, that’s all gonna change, at least temporarily.

In a recent successful pursuit to rid this space of bottle caps, cigarettes, and glass (1 gallon to be exact), I observed the rust that accumulated on the bottle caps, illuminating age. I counted the glass and soil layers, reaching 4 layers in some places. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying a beer in the outdoors, but can ya transfer the beer to a plastic Starbucks cup or wrap the bottle in a paper bag, then dispose of it properly, please?

Oh, the irony of this beautiful space: I studied the distribution patterns of glass, and the evidence suggests that some disrespectful visitors are enjoying this space, lounging on the large decorative boulder perfectly situated in this garden, looking out onto the park and beyond, enjoying their peaceful outdoor experience as they litter.

I observed the size of the shards, and many didn’t require much effort to pick up. Many were quite large and easy to transport to the nearest receptacle, and still other shards held together by the Miller sticker, which one could have easily inserted into one of the many paper cups that were lodged between the branches of a nearby rosemary bush.

Not all litter, however, is intentional—accidents happen. Some glass chips are too difficult to pick up and discard into the trash without latex gloves and good lighting. I discovered way more bottle caps than glass, suggesting that many visitors returned home with their bottles in hand—despite the fact that there is no trash receptacle in close proximity. The closest one is near the basketball courts.

This article isn’t an indictment of my fellow neighbors. Rather, it’s a call to action. What’s the solution? Us! The solution is not to criticize park maintenance staff for not picking up after us (though I will ask the city to add a trash receptacle); after all, a few park maintenance employees isn’t a scalable solution to the problem of litter. The solution is to visit these places, and leave with trash whether we put it there or not. Or, if you take your kids to our playgrounds, ask each to pick up three pieces of litter before they can play and before leaving. I’m minded of my mother’s words, which I often hated hearing because they belied personal responsibility: “I don’t care who made the mess, clean it up!”

So, the next time you visit another great park, such as Mirabeau Park (aka Glass Mountain), don’t look passed the enormous numbers of bottle caps and layers of glass in and around the boulders and sandpit—consider scheduling a Newark Trash Pickup Crew event. And, if you need tips on picking up glass, see this article.

What would our parks look like if we imagined that a child’s birthright were to run barefoot through a park and neighborhood?

Angela

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