I've been quite focused on waste management lately. Since beginning retirement this fall, I have been volunteering at our local facility most Wednesday mornings (because I can). It wasn't part of my retirement planning, but it seemed like a good idea. In addition to mitigating sticker shock, I actually liked the prospect of being there, helping out in a very concrete way, and connecting with fellow citizens in a new context.

I've had lots of conversations. A friend of mine who stopped to chat during a recent visit had an important question. No doubt inspired by the fluorescent green vest I wear signifying my special position, he assumed a level of expertise I did not have, and asked whether there is a law that actually requires people to recycle certain items rather than depositing them in the general trash receptacles. I didn't know it at the time, but right under our noses, so to speak, was the answer—more about that later. His question stimulated a whole line of inquiry related to the evolution from dump to transfer station, and I decided to look into it a bit.

I've always called it the dump. When our kids were little, my wife and I lived in Brewster, Mass. One of our family rituals was a Saturday trip to the dump, and I often brought the kids along. Making the chore more fun, we would sometimes sing a song in the car on the way. To the tune of the "William Tell Overture" (Lone Ranger theme), it went like this: "To the dump, to the dump, to the dump dump dump…" For those of you who know the tune, the second section gets particularly exciting.

When I learned from my brother, who lived in a more environmentally advanced town, that they referred to the place where you take your trash as the "transfer station," I thought it was a silly euphemism invented for people whose tastes were too refined to go to the "dump," (a measure of my ignorance at that point). My song doesn't work for "transfer station," and it remained the dump for us.

A decade earlier, here in Harvard, people were beginning to wonder about dump alternatives. An article in the old Harvard Post from Nov. 14, 1975, began with the following questions: "How much longer will Harvard be able to use its present sanitary landfill site? Where else in the town might a future landfill operation be located? Are there other or better means of disposing of solid waste than a landfill?" A photo of the then-current "sanitary" landfill was included.

Many fine citizens put forth a great deal of effort over a long period of time bringing us from there to where we are now. It wasn't always smooth sailing: "Selectman Peter Koch exploded in anger Monday night at colleague Mary Welch's suggestion that another contracting firm be asked to review the plans for the town's new solid waste transfer station and make comments and suggestions on how to best proceed with the project." (Harvard Post, Dec. 23, 1983).

Nearly 10 years after the above questions were posed, the transfer station had its first full day of operation on Jan. 5, 1985.

The answer to my friend's question is actually presented in signs affixed to the trash compactors on the upper level, reminding people who perhaps have not paused to make the recycling effort. Massachusetts state regulation 310 CMR 19.017 "prohibits the disposal, or transfer for disposal, of the following materials…" There follows a list of things we should not be putting in those trash compactors, including glass containers, narrow-neck plastic containers, metal containers, and recyclable paper. So, my friend, yes there is a law. (I am not at all clear on the question of enforcement, however.)

By the way, guidelines presented in a 2002 publication of the United States Environmental Protection Agency entitled "Waste Transfer Stations: A Manual for Decision-Making" suggest that we don't actually have a transfer station! According to the folks at EPA, only a facility that receives some portion of its waste directly from collection vehicles, then consolidates and reloads the waste onto larger vehicles for delivery to a final disposal facility, is considered a transfer station. It seems what we have is a "convenience center," which is defined as a designated area where residents manually discard waste and recyclables into dumpsters or collection containers.

I ask you, when you throw your papers and cardboard into the noisy paper compactor, when you deposit plastics and cans together in the other one, when you toss your wine bottles into the bin and they make that satisfying crashing sound, does it feel like "transferring?" It is convenient.

See you at the dump.

Glenn Williams is a Bolton Road resident and a proud transfer station volunteer.