Nestled at the back of a drawer, unnoticed, it wasn't possible to determine how long it may have been there. An object so small and seemingly unimportant it would have escaped anyone's attention in favor of the contents that made their home in that drawer over the years. But on this day when the contents were exchanged again, a twist tie was spotted and retrieved. It was so small it wasn't surprising it hadn't been noticed before, yet this seemingly insignificant object had something to say.
This twist tie was unlike the ones found amongst stacks of ties in kitchen drawers--the ones red in color and flimsy in construction. The ones that after a single use have lost most of their strength and much of their usefulness and are typically destined for the trash can. And why not? There are so many others to take its place.
But the twist tie found in the dresser was different. Made of strong metal covered in pink plastic, it could be bent, twisted, re-bent, re-twisted and always return to its original form never having its strength or purpose compromised. Manufactured many years ago, its quality is undeniable.
To keep producers producing, manufacturers manufacturing and consumers consuming, products have a limited span of utility. Their design is such that we know we will make use of an item for a limited time and then purchase its replacement.
Planned obsolescence is so entrenched in our consumer consciousness we express surprise when an object lasts longer than actually anticipated. When that happens we must really have gotten value for our money! Typically our mindset is when something is broken we replace it; old we update it; and when no longer serving a purpose it is disposable.
I have lived in six different communities, attended four schools and two universities, held summer, part-time and full time jobs, served on a number of committees and been part of many organizations. My life has been intertwined with neighbors, classmates, co-workers, colleagues and friends as a result. I have no idea how many people I have encountered but I do know there were times when I felt like both types of twist ties. I have felt valued, productive and needed. There have also been times when I have felt broken, unnoticed and expendable.
There are 7.2 billion people inhabiting this planet. More than three billion live on less than $2.50 per day. Nearly a billion people are unable to read a book or sign their name. One million will die this year from malaria. Every day another 5,760 children become orphans. There are 15.4 million refugees, and 28.8 million people who have been forced to flee their own country. Todayanother 20,000 people will be displaced.
The numbers are horrendous and harrowing--and they should haunt us. It can be overwhelming, perhaps even paralyzing, to get our heads around the statistics, but it's necessary, because the worst thing we can do is nothing. The inexcusable approach would be to treat people with the same planned obsolescence mindset we bring toward our possessions.
People are not disposable and it cannot be okay with us that so many are treated as if they were. The baby that dies today due to lack of food and water is loved every bit as much as the babies in our lives. The family forced out of their home due to war have the same hopes and dreams as we have. We are no different from each other--and no one should be dismissed as collateral damage.
The broken, red twist tie was tossed away. The durable pink one was reclaimed for its value. Yes, the twist tie has a story to tell. So does every man, woman and child who share this time in history with us. How many will be heard? That's my outlook.
