When I began volunteering at the dump a few months ago, I noticed an interesting innovation: the appearance of the assistance lane. The last parking spot in the recycling area now had a tall sign marking this special designation, with a section of the pavement painted blue.

While this seemed like a good idea, it was a bit confusing. First of all, people didn't necessarily look ahead to notice that this best lane—the ideal, the one at the end closest to the bins—was a special lane. I observed some awkward moments, as occasionally people would drive in and notice too late that they had landed in special territory, a dump faux pas. Then came a moment of decision, to stay or to backup and seek a regular spot. It was a lot like spotting an ideal space in a crowded parking lot, only to find it designated for handicapped parking when you get there.

A few weeks later, a very helpful change appeared, as the entire lane was painted blue, and the sign was placed at the entrance to the lane. The chances that you would miss it were reduced dramatically. Still, what was it? There was no handicapped parking sign, but it was clearly something special. What was the rule? Who gets to park there? Whose idea was this?

My efforts to learn more about the assistance lane led me to Jonathan Williams (no relation), who has long been a volunteer at the dump. I learned from him that Jeff Harris was the inspiration for the new idea.

In June of 2010, at 88 years old, Jeff was climbing the steps to the glass bins, and he fell. He injured his head in the fall and never recovered. As Jonathan pointed out, Jeff would probably never have stopped in the assistance lane, but thinking about people of that age, and younger people who might be temporarily or otherwise infirm, it could be a way to support their desire to remain independent.

For some people, simply getting to the dump is a significant effort. Wouldn't it be great to support them when they get there—at least to help with the challenge of getting up the steps to toss their glass? Jonathan approached town officials with the idea, and they supported it enthusiastically.

A number of possibilities were considered, including an official handicapped parking designation. This option was eventually rejected, as the goal is to help people who, for whatever reason, have difficulty managing the transfer of recyclable material from their car to the bins. An "official" handicapped parking permit is not required, just a felt need. Perhaps you just have some material you find awkward to move. While it is clear that the volunteers will be happy to help, the hope is that if no one is staffing the dump, townspeople will be there to offer assistance. Anyone can go up to a person and ask if he or she needs a hand. This is a nice idea.

A majority of us, even the most fiercely independent, will experience and need to accept a change toward increased dependence on others as we age. We may also experience a temporary incapacity at any point, perhaps just when we're feeling particularly fit. We can count on impermanence. As Mark Twain and others before him have noted, "The only two certainties in life are death and taxes." We could add a third: the need for waste management. May I help you?

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