The Can Man

I crept out of my room one warm Sunday morning while rubbing my head. My cheap beer headache guided me to the fridge where there was cold water and food. My roommate joined me in the kitchen, and we started giggling (which is custom for the morning after we throw a party). We exchanged stories from the night before about the things that were said, the strangers that enjoyed the comfort of our living room, and the trash talking that went on during pong. It was the first weekend I was back in Boston after a long summer away from my favorite people, and we celebrated our reuniting the way college kids know how to.

However, the fun part was over, and self-induced headaches and empty beer cans were widespread throughout the apartment. We began the inevitable clean-up and filled two trash bags with our aluminum friends. The laughing continued all the way to the back of our building where the dumpsters were overflowing with pizza boxes. A man with graying hair and soiled clothes was going through the recycling bin filling bags with other people’s bottles and cans. My roommate stood frozen as she surveyed the scene while I approached the recycling bin intending to do my part as a good citizen. As I was about to dump the cans, the man said to me, “You can just put them in this bag, they are all going to go in here anyway.” He opened his bag to me and I helped him make the exchange from my bag to his. Now empty handed, my roommate and I left our can man in silence. I couldn’t help but realize that my drunken night was going to become his income. The thought then flooded my mind with questions. Where did his life go wrong so that his job title is now “can collector”? Did his mother used to tell him that if he put his mind to it, he could do anything? I wonder if the amount he resents college kids with dispensable incomes equaled the amount of guilt I felt as I left him with his newly-acquired means for nickels and pennies.

I run into him every now and then while he’s hard at work. It compels me to send a quick text to my parents thanking them for everything they have given me. However, when I tell my kids in the future that they can do anything they set their minds to, I hope they choose a more lucrative profession.