The first time we saw those glowing lanterns floating up in the night sky one summer years ago, we thought they were very cool. We ran out to purchase some so we could commemorate our next occasion in style.
A few weeks later when family from out of state was visiting, we figured out how to work the lanterns by setting part of it on fire, and watched them float away, carried north on a mild mid-August breeze.
Once again, it was pretty cool, and the kids were wowed. My visiting brother, on the other hand, was a bit incredulous that we’d just sent an open flame into the sky uncontrolled.
No worries, I told him. People do this all the time nowadays. At some point, the light from the floating lantern blinked out, either because of distance or because its fuel was exhausted. We continued with our pleasant visit, reasonably certain we hadn’t set something miles away ablaze.
Still, it nagged at me a little in the days to follow. Even if it wasn’t still burning when it landed, our pleasant experience sent trash to an unsuspecting corner of Chicagoland. A small matter, for sure, but enough to make me get rid of our remaining floating lanterns.
I’m reminded of that evening every time I see a commemorative balloon release on the news. And with the plague of gun violence continuing unabated, those kinds of memorials are becoming frequent.
I understand the symbolism of rising up, and, like my glowing lantern, the balloon releases are cool to behold, but the end result is honoring a loved one’s death by sending trash out randomly into the world.
It’s a small problem, especially when compared to the epidemic of deaths caused by gun violence, but it’s captured the attention of state officials. A law banning certain balloon releases was passed by the Illinois House this spring, though it stalled legislatively since then.
In the meantime, balloon releases have come under fire by the Forest Preserve District of Will County as part of its new campaign declaring litter “Public Enemy No. 1.”
It’s mostly a way to capture people’s attention, similar to the district’s 2019 “Don’t be a Jerk” information campaign touting such practices as picking up your dog’s poop and observing good trail etiquette.
And it targets a problem that affects everyone, said Cindy Cain, the district’s public information officer.
The district’s “enemies” go way beyond just the mylar and rubber balloons that end up in the district’s 23,000 acres of preserves.
“Litter is pervasive and hard to quantify,” she said, “and includes everything from a cigarette butt to much larger items including tires, furniture, construction debris, etc.”
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One time, district workers stumbled upon an entire car that had been overtaken by vegetation after someone had rolled it into a remote area, she said. Possibly the strangest thing they’ve come upon in the preserves in recent years, she said, was an entire hot tub someone had dumped.
The 2020 Annual Preserve Vandalism Report only takes into account larger trash, but it’s filled with reports of TV sets dumped in preserve parking lots, sofa beds and recliners that end up in wooded areas, lots of tires and, in one case, “numerous carcasses” dumped at Donohue Grove Preserve.
The small stuff makes a difference too.
“Last year, nature become so much more important during the pandemic,” Cain said. “You couldn’t go to a restaurant but you could go take a walk in the preserves, and you didn’t want to see a Big Gulp cup or McDonalds bag laying on the trail.”
Or carcasses, for that matter.
“Not only is it an eyesore, but it’s dangerous to wildlife,” she said.
That’s where the balloon trash fits in. The mylar ones sometimes end up in the gullets of fish and animals that think they’re eating something organic, and it kills them. And balloon strings and ribbons can be just as dangerous to birds and other animals as abandoned fishing line.
Back in 2018, Cain saw a pelican that had gotten tangled up in fishing line at McKinley Woods in Channahon. District workers took it to Willowbrook Wildlife Center in Glen Ellyn, but it had been maimed too badly and “didn’t make it,” she said.
“If you’ve ever seen a pelican, they’re amazing creatures and to see one hobbled and eventually dying because of fishing line was really sad,” Cain said.
In another incident, she said, an endangered Blanding’s turtle laid eggs in a preserve atop a pile of dumped roofing materials. The chemicals from the roofing debris leached into the eggs, killing the turtle offspring inside.
Hence the Public Enemy No. 1 designation.
“Any dumping — balloons, fishing line, roofing materials — all can harm wildlife, and we’re trying to educate people about that,” Cain said.
While some of the dumping is deliberate and is actually considered criminal activity, other sources of litter are more well intentioned, like the balloon releases.
A district volunteer recently came across the remains of a gender reveal event that included a spray of pink and blue metallic confetti, a mess that took volunteers hours to clean up.
It’s the sort of thing that’s not allowed in the preserves, “but if someone does it and we come across it, we have to clean it up,” Cain said.
Besides just making people aware of the dangers of Public Enemy No. 1, she’s hoping this summer’s information campaign will help get others involved in helping with cleanup too.
Litter: Public Enemy No. 1 Cleanup Day will take place from 10 a.m. to noon Saturday, July 31 at Hadley Valley — Gougar Road Access in Joliet. They’re asking people to register before coming out by calling 815-722-7364.
The Forest Preserve District also is giving away 100 long-handled pickers to help people pick up litter as they use the preserves. They’re available at the district’s five visitor centers.
No information campaign will wipe out litter altogether — just ask Woodsy Owl, the U.S. Forest Service mascot who’s been advising “give a hoot, don’t pollute” for 50 years now.
But hopefully the effort will make some people “more conscious of what they are doing and how their activities affect the world around them,” Cain said. “It’s a shared responsibility — government can’t do it alone.”
Landmarks is a weekly column by Paul Eisenberg exploring the people, places and things that have left an indelible mark on the Southland. He can be reached at [email protected].