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Thanks to a challenge pledge from an anonymous benefactor,
contributions to the Wayne County: No Ash At All legal fund
will be matched on a 2-to-1 basis. For example, your taxdeductible
contribution of $20 becomes $60 to help fight
against Republic’s plan to dump trainloads of toxic coal ash in
Wayne County. Checks should be made payable to the Center
for a Sustainable Coast, earmarked Wayne County legal fund,
and mailed to 221 Mallory Street, Suite B, St. Simons Island,
GA 31522. You may also give your checks to Peggy Riggins
or a member of the Wayne County: No Ash At All committee.
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Wayne County has produced a legion of
memorable characters. One of my favorites was our former next-door
neighbor Leroy Strickland. The businessman could “hold court”
with the best of them. Whether he was tending his tiny patch of
tomatoes or pontificating from the bench at Lucky’s Service
Station, Leroy was always good for funny one-liners.
One day, I plopped down beside him at Lucky’s.
Waving his hand, he pointed to his three sons. Wayne was grinding a
block of ice. Mike was laboring over a Mercury outboard. Thomas was
cleaning love bugs off a lady’s windshield. Chuckling, he said, “I
don’t know what the world’s coming to. You can’t even raise
good help these days.” That was Leroy, quick to rib whomever to
get a laugh.
Leroy was also an innovator. Long before the
24-hours-a-day-convenience-store era, Leroy and his sons opened the
Jiffy Market in the old ice house on Cherry Street. It’s been a
half-century, but I can still see the store’s motto: “We may
doze, but we never close.”
Today, that motto lives in our fight to keep
Republic Services from hauling mountains of toxic coal ash into its
Broadhurst Environmental Landfill. Perhaps our county’s leadership
was asleep when the 2005 contract was amended, opening the door to
our present crisis. But be assured, everyone is wide awake in 2016.
If we do not rattle the earth with public outcry and look for chinks
in the legal armor of this landfill giant, Wayne County’s
environment is in grave danger. And when the predictable calamity
happens, the health of future generations will suffer—forever.
That’s why we cannot afford to go to deep
sleep or close our defense.
And now, Wayne County’s fight has gotten
three big boosts. Two Glynn County nonprofits have joined the
campaign to protect Southeast Georgia. Environmental groups—Center
for a Sustainable Coast and 100 Miles—recognize whatever pollutes
our community’s natural resources will contaminate the coast, too.
The plumber’s rule reigns: “Stuff runs downhill.” The Golden
Isles are downhill from Penholloway Creek, which
empties into the Altamaha River. The Altamaha and Satilla rivers
flow into the Atlantic Ocean.
Another major lift is from an anonymous
benefactor who has pledged a 2-to-1 challenge to match all donations
to our legal defense fund. If a third-grader shakes five bucks from
his or her piggy bank, that gift becomes $15. One thousand dollars
grows to $3,000. This David-and-Goliath battle is going to be long
and expensive, but our cause is gaining traction and significant
financial support. Republic figures it has our commissioners
handcuffed with its 50-year, lopsided contract. That should make us
even more determined to right this wrong.
If you have family or friends in Pierce, Long,
McIntosh, Glynn, Brantley, Ware or Camden counties, you need to reach
out to them. If Republic gets its wishes, our neighbors will be at
risk. North Florida, are you paying attention, too? Atlanta should
be livid that its coastal playground is under assault. Media across
America are waking up: “If this can happen in Wayne County, it can
happen in Anywhere, USA.”
Rural, cash-strapped communities, such as ours,
are prime targets of waste-management companies that use money to buy
dumping rights. Republic baited the hook with cash for the county,
and some Wayne County leaders bit—hook, line and sinker. Now, it’s
up to citizens—like an angry large-mouth bass—to shake our heads
and spit out the nasty lure.
Doing that won’t be easy, but we can and
we will. That’s why Leroy’s words are important: “We may
doze, but we never close” in our fight against toxic coal ash.
