NEWTON'S LAW: IF EVERYONE DOES A LITTLE BIT, RECYCLING CAN HAVE AN IMPACT

For lunch, I occasionally eat one of those packaged microwave dinners. As products, they live up to their limited ambitions as "frozen entrees": they are cheap, convenient, low in calories and sometimes even appetizing.

I usually scrape the contents from their containers (which are, in the magic word of the times, "microwavable") onto a plate to trick myself into thinking some care has gone into the meal's preparation.

At least in constructing a bologna-and-cheese sandwich, you carry some sense of worth from having labored over the food.

Recently, though, I had another reason to feel satisfaction. I was cleaning up from my meager offering and found on the plastic cooking tray a symbol of growing familiarity.

It was a trio of arrows chasing one another around a triangle. A bell went off in my head. Hey, I thought, this is the daily double of "able" words ... not only microwavable, but recyclable.

Of such small triumphs are my days made.

I cleaned up the tray and set it aside. In the past, it would have gone in the trash container under the sink.

Here's the ugly truth about the city's recycling program: I like it.

This isn't a view you would chime in with at a social gathering a couple of months ago. People didn't like the prospect of losing a day of general trash collection and have in its place a day of specific trash collection.

I had my own misgivings. Recycling is something that sounds like a fine endeavor. My family has done its bit at times, collecting newspapers and throwing them into the church recycling trailer, and setting aside aluminum cans for a paltry remuneration.

But it seemed the suggested program would be cumbersome in practice. Besides, in this throwaway society, I believed my family threw away more than most people. Getting by on one trash pick-up a week seemed unlikely.

Not only that, there was a philosophical problem. When Missouri legislators approved the mandatory seat belt law in 1986, I was offended. I had always worn a seat belt, believed other people of good sense did and resented the government insisting I do what was already being done.

This is the existential approach to political opposition: If persons engage in folly, they should accept the consequences of their actions. I saw no reason for the government to drag me into their net of buffoons.

I now grudgingly concede, usually when I see children standing in the front seat of a moving vehicle, that some people are so dumb the government has no choice but to interfere.

None of this is necessarily so with recycling, since the lives saved tend to be of a botanical nature. In practice, though, what I thought might be onerous has turned out to be illuminating.

I now inspect all canisters, cartons, containers, sacks, documents, jars, jugs, bottles and enclosures for signs that they might be adequate for recycling. When Friday rolls around, I usually have a number of things at curbside for the city to haul away.

This enterprise becomes infectious. When I buy products now, I look to see if the package can be recycled. I needed some envelopes recently and put out a few more coins to purchase the kind made from recycled paper.

My effort is trifling in this regard, as it is with all people who participate. The point is that if everybody does just a small amount, here and elsewhere, the result can be dramatic.

The change to this recycling program has not cost me big money or forced me to pile up my garbage. I'm disposing of the same stuff, I'm just disposing of it smarter.

All I'm being asked to do is think a bit. Government has done worse things to people.