This Side of the Mountain

by Sidney Saylor Farr It has become all too apparent to communities across the Southern Appalachian Region that we not only have Eroblems with our own garbage and azardous waste disposal, but we also have a problem with the nation's mounting garbage problem, because larger cities in the Midwest and eastern part of this country are desperately seeking ways to deal with the horrendous task connected to the disposing of toxic waste products. Since landfills are full and land on which to construct others is scarce, officials in some of those states have begun thinking in terms of the southeastern part of the country, of Appalachia's strip-mined land, and of land in small towns where residents are hurting economically and might be eager to make a few dollars. People in Appalachia are not so naive as it has been assumed because we, too, listen to the radio, watch television, and read newspapers. Shipping toxic waste 3 to Appalachia will not be allowed if citizens remain alert to what's happening in their communities, towns, and cities; if they keep informed and read between the lines of any political statements; if they ask questions, speak out, fight for the right to say no to any proposal of toxic waste incinerators and/or landfills. A few years ago word got out that the Army was planning to build an incinerator at the Blue Grass Army Depot near Richmond, Kentucky, for the purpose of destroying stockpiles of nerve gas, which amounted to around 70,000 nerve agent rockets, stored in an area that is located between the cities of Richmond and Berea, and is within a mile of three different grade schools. Citizens of the county soon formed a large group who talked to officials, who investigated a similar plant in Utah, who protested the building in Kentucky, and who continue to be alert to any proposals coming from officials concerning the matter. In 1987 we all heard about the garbage barge, Maybro, which was loaded with 3,186 tons of refuse. It traveled for six months, visiting six states and three other countries and had to return to New York Harbor, still loaded, because the other places would not or could not allow the dumping. And the refuse had to be burned and the ashes buried. One wonders why it was not burned and buried in the first place? The Environmental Protection Agency projects that the nation's annual production of municipal refuse will reach more than 193 million tons in the next ten years. And a third of the nation's landfills are expected to be closed by 1991. Where is it all to go? Many conscientious people are wrestling with this problem right now. Landfills in Kentucky's neighboring states are brimming. Land for new landfills and incinerators is becoming scarce. Other states are already closing their doors to outsiders' dumping. It seems to us that Kentucky officials, at least at the local level, often are anxious to create new doors that will open. Sooner or later (and we fear it will be later) we all will have to face the fact that yesterday's hazardous waste can and probably will come back to haunt us. Word from our state capítol in Frankfort is not clear as to what longrange plans are being made for the state and how well those rules and regulations will be enforced to handle the 250 million pounds of hazardous waste generated by the state's own industries. Added to that is the alarming fact that about 36 percent of the garbage dumped into Kentucky's landfills each day is from out-of-state sources. Garbage from other states has been coming into Kentucky by the the trailer load. Why do they feel that they can do this? For any number of reasons: Because Kentucky's tax for out-of-state dumping is extremely low, this makes it cheaper for them than keeping it in their own states; not many in our local and state governments seem to be paying attention; there is little or no control placed over landfills in this state in terms of location, operation, and accountability . In...