Dumpster gazed at Gilbert’s disheveled appearance. He studied him while he ate, handed him a small orange container to drink from and went back to collecting again. “Thank you.” Gilbert uttered. He then gulped half the contents, washing down the food stuck in his constricted gullet. The Orange Drink cooled his throat. Gilbert glanced down at his store bought designer garments from the hotel’s shopping mall. Even through his dirty appearance, the face of a well-bred young gentleman still showed. The airline lost the luggage. Mom purchased new clothing while Dad met with a businessman in the second tower just before things began to go wrong. The wide green stripes on his shirt reflected into his hazel green eyes and strange looking people at the shops stared at him through glowing multi colored eyes. Gilbert stared back at Dumpster. The long eyelashes caught the sun, making them appear even darker. His hunger pangs receded. His pinkish ears looked frail and transparent as one side caught the sunlight shining through it. For the first time, Gilbert realized the smell of rotten food was in fact originating from Dumpster’s body and clothes, not from the trash. After baking in the hot sun, Gilbert felt unsure if what he’d just eaten was even edible, but this apprehensive emotion hadn’t persuaded him to stop. He bounced with delight. His stomach wasn’t irritated any longer. Gilbert raised any eyebrow then asked, “Did you know I was coming?” “Yeah, that prissy soap odor,” said Dumpster. Dumpster retrieved treasures from within the dumpster as Gilbert watched him removing small shiny items, placing them within his tattered coat. Compared to Dumpster, Gilbert admitted he was definitely a silver spoon reared child thrown into a societal... ... middle of paper ... ...les over his chin. Gilbert’s heart sank once again. What if we don’t find them? He mulled over the unwanted thoughts while canvassing Dumpster who picked up a glass bottle to gaze through it. The sunlight filtered by the odd shaped bottle illuminated Dumpster’s face. His back was turned until he peered through the glass. His face appeared to be cleaner as though an eraser cleaned a chalkboard. His hair shined. His teeth were no longer stained. The wrinkles disappeared. He was clean-shaven, a normal looking man apparently many, many years younger. His hair curled down to the shoulders. His expressive brown eyes, under bushy eyebrows, squinted from the brightness. He stared through the glass, contemplating the sky. There were small blisters on his neck, visible from under his collar where the sunlight bathed him. The blisters gave the appearance of scarred bite marks.
There is no shame that everybody had at least stereotyped once in their lifetime. Stereotyping is a common thing that happens whether someone does it intentionally or unintentionally. Some stereotyping causes mixed emotions; anger, sadness, humor, inspiration, many more. Though stereotyping will never be wiped from existence, many people have told their stories and seen from different perspectives when stereotyped. Take, for example, Judith Cofer and Lars Eighner.
Lars Eighner's short essay, "Dumpster Diving," reveals the stereotypes about homelessness in America. In order to confirm these known stereotypes about American culture, Eighner includes autobiographical accounts of the economically inferior class, as well as revealing his elitist rules that governs the life of a homeless person. According to Eighner, homeless people fall into the following categories, 'can scroungers', 'Dumpster divers', and 'scavengers.' (Eighner, 1993). In addition, Eighner's blatant demonstration of his superiority to the people he scavenges from reveals his true character of snobbery.
2. Eighner’s approach to refutation is seen when he talks about the dangers of dumpster diving, “I do not want to paint too romantic a picture. Dumpster diving
The essay “On Dumpster Diving” by Lars Eighner describes his experience of being homeless. Eighner wrote it to teach people how to scavenge through Dumpsters. Additionally, the author explains his personal experiences on finding the correct foods, items, and money. His explanation will allow curious people and others wanting to start Dumpster diving an idea on the process. Humans throw out an abundance of food and items that enable homeless and financially poor to live from it.
cold, harsh, wintry days, when my brothers and sister and I trudged home from school burdened down by the silence and frigidity of our long trek from the main road, down the hill to our shabby-looking house. More rundown than any of our classmates’ houses. In winter my mother’s riotous flowers would be absent, and the shack stood revealed for what it was. A gray, decaying...
“Wow! You were as hungry as I was. Be a good boy and I’ll see you later.”
Eighner writes, “Long before I began Dumpster diving I was impressed with Dumpsters, enough so that I wrote the Merriam research service to discover what I could about the world “Dumpster”. I learned from them that “Dumpster” is a proprietary word belonging to the Dempsey Dumpster company.” He was so fascinated with Dumpsters, that he learned the definition, which is a fact. A definition can be adjusted; however, it is not completely revised. Definitions are definite. Eighner states, “Eating from the Dumpsters involves three principles: using the senses and common sense to evaluate the condition of the found materials, knowing the Dumpsters of a given area and checking them regularly, and seeking always to answer the question, ‘Why was this discarded?’” He uses his senses to analyze the condition of the things he finds logically. Dumpster diving requires the ability to critically think about what can and can not be eaten. Eighner writes, “Although very rare with modern canning methods, botulism is a possibility. But botulism is almost certainly fatal and often the first symptom is death.” He uses knowledge to understand what the expectations of some foods, especially canned foods, should be. While Eighner uses all three persuasive appeals in his writing, ethos is the most
Shadows prowled the streets looking for an opportunity to strike their prey. How am I supposed to live here? Not after what happened four years ago”This place looks like a war zone. As he walked down the street people flew in the shadows like ghosts looking for someone to possess.”They know what I did!” He wailed. Jack was 12 years old about 5’2” 90 lbs. His mahogany hair hung down to about his shoulders and curled up at the end. His rusty eyes seemed to match his pupils forming an endless pit of brown.
Lars Eighner’s essay “On Dumpster Diving” describes his experience of being a Dumpster scavenger. Eighner began his Dumpster diving about one year before he became homeless. Since he needed to support living with his dog, Lizbeth, he not only ran out of his savings but also had to spend his infrequent income on rent. Therefore, he had to obtain and satisfy his daily necessities from the Dumpsters. During his experience as a scavenger, he gained a lot of knowledge from the art of Dumpster diving. He had enhanced his ability in distinguishing what was safe to eat and what wasn’t. Every time he found something in Dumpsters, he always asked himself,“why was this discarded?” He figured out what was a good time to find fresh food, like pizza, and
Joe lifted the bar rag and slid George's drink over. It caught on something and spilled down George's pants. Both men stared at the rock maple bar top. The drink had snagged on an impression in the bar. It was an eighth inch deep and matched the form of the locket.
Eighner describes was on how to identify the good foods versus the bad foods in dumpsters. “Eating safely from the dumpsters involves three principles: using the sense of common sense to evaluate the condition of the found materials, knowing the dumpsters of a given area and checking them regularly, and seeking ways to answer the question “Why was this discarded?” (Eighner 647).” Eighner also discusses some of the things he dislikes, for instance can scroungers. Can scroungers make a mess of everything in their way, they will pass up a good pair of shoes, to where they are destroyed (680). There are other things you have to take into consideration when you are dumpster diving Another thing Eighner was particular about was peoples personal trash. People in homes or apartments do not produce enough useful items to homeless (680); therefore, Eighner tries to avoid them as much as possible. Dumpster diving you can take as you please, and how much you desire; yet Eighner sums his story up to take what is
The majority of people waste food on a daily basis. In fact, in the U.S. alone there is an estimate that over half of the food produced goes uneaten; meanwhile there are people who are in need of food, and it ultimately goes to waste (Dockterman). For example, in his essay, “On Dumpster Diving,” author Lars Eighner writes about his experiences of dumpster diving with his pet dog, during his years of homelessness. According to Eighner, much of the food and materials he came across in the dumpsters were in usable shape, and many items were new. Clearly there needs to be a change in American food waste, in current and, hopefully not so much in, future generations. In order to bring about change in this misuse of food, Americans need to be conscious
“On Dumpster Diving” by Lars Eighner and “Two Ways to Belong in America” by Bharati Mukheriee are both extremely thought-provoking texts that chronicle society’s treatment of marginalized people in the United States. Although, the speakers are of different ethnicities, nationalities and come from very different backgrounds they both share the common perspective of feeling left behind by society and excluded socioeconomically. On Dumpster Diving explores the financial hardships of living in America and the treatment of the lower class, mass consumption and waste. It highlights the theme of reckless gluttony that is prevalent in American society. Whereas, Two Ways to Belong explores the treatment of immigrants a cultural upheaval, mass division
With both hands resting lightly on the table to each side of his white foam cup, Otis stared into its deep abyss of emptiness with his head bowed as if willing it to fill again, giving him a reason to enjoy the shelter that the indoors provided. I could almost touch the conflict going on inside of him, a battle of wills as if he was negotiating with an imaginary devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. I sensed a cramp of discomfort seizing his insides, compelling him to flee, then a silent resolve, as if a moment of clarity had graced his consciousness.
I wearily drag myself away from the silken violet comforter and slump out into the living room. The green and red print of our family’s southwestern style couch streaks boldly against the deep blues of the opposing sitting chairs, calling me to it. Of course I oblige the billowy haven, roughly plopping down and curling into the cushions, ignoring the faint smell of smoke that clings to the fabric. My focus fades in and out for a while, allowing my mind to relax and unwind from any treacherous dreams of the pervious night, until I hear the telltale creak of door hinges. My eyes flutter lightly open to see my Father dressed in smart brown slacks and a deep earthy t-shirt, his graying hair and beard neatly comber into order. He places his appointment book and hair products in a bag near the door signaling the rapid approaching time of departure. Soon he is parading out the door with ever-fading whispers of ‘I love you kid,’ and ‘be good.’