Recently as I drove my Silent Generation father-in-law on an out-of-town trip along I-70, he made a peculiar observation. “I never noticed this before but there’s plastic bags everywhere. My gosh. It looks terrible!”
Peculiar because he’s typically not a passenger seat guy. Peculiar because he’s the last person I expect to hear pseudo-environmentally conscious commentary from. But knowing he’s a person who takes seriously where his local tax dollars go and his community’s appearance, combined with a newfound passenger seat status, I took heed of a lesson in…
