A holiday tradition in Christmas trash

I have fond memories of Christmas trash.

    Growing up in a family of eight children during the 1960s and ‘70s provided plenty of adventure and many fond memories, particularly about seasonal celebrations and traditions.

    Christmas was always an exciting time in my childhood home in Arlington Heights. Mom and dad practiced a variety of traditions leading up to Christmas Day, including selecting a fresh-cut Christmas tree, decorating the house and sharing memories of Christmas traditions from their younger years.

    My brothers and I had our own holiday traditions and one of the oddest was practiced on garbage day, the day when Arlington Heights residents put out their household trash for the weekly pick up by the waste hauler. 

    The first garbage day after Christmas always provided insight about our friends and neighbors and the type of gifts they gave and received for Christmas. On one level it was an exercise in the indirect observation of contemporary culture—any sociologist will tell you that we can learn a great deal about a society from its trash. 

    For boys in a family of eight kids, garbage day also provided cheap entertainment during the winter break from school.

    When garbage day arrived, my brothers and I would pull on coats, gloves, boots, and other winter gear to hike the neighborhood to look at the discarded gift boxes, toy packages, and related holiday debris. Others saw simple piles of trash, but we found clues pointing to friends who had received new slot car sets, athletic equipment, games, maybe even a new TV. 

    We could identify the friends who received the gifts we wanted but didn’t get. This information allowed us to prioritize who we would visit in the coming days and how we would spend our time during those visits. We can say today that garbage day offered valuable lessons in networking and time management. 

    I have wonderful memories of time spent playing with toys and games I never received; ones my parents couldn’t afford because they spent nearly all of their money on food and clothing for their eight children. 

    Two of my brothers have since died, one was killed by a drunk driver and the other by a massive heart attack. I think of them throughout the year, but on the first garbage day after Christmas, when I catch myself eyeing the empty boxes that are stacked high along curbs for disposal, I am reminded of the years when the Botterman boys would dress for cold weather and stroll the streets to learn what others received for Christmas.