Picking up the trash on a hot Lower Merion day

INQUIRER STAFF WRITER

There are many days in the spring and fall when folks bound for dismal cubicles in suffocating office buildings tell Jordon Jackson how much they envy him. As a Lower Merion Township trash man, Jackson is outdoors all day, on his feet, using and moving his body.

But on Wednesday, those pasty-faced, soft-handed office dwellers were glad to be toiling in air-conditioned comfort while Jackson and his two crewmates on Truck 5916 heaved containers of odoriferous garbage and rubbish in the broiling heat that would top 100 degrees for the second day in a row.

When the three began their shift at 7 a.m. at the township public-works complex in Penn Valley, the temperature and humidity seemed less oppressive than what they had had to deal with Tuesday. But by mid-morning, their T-shirts were stained with dark patches of sweat.

Those T-shirts proudly proclaim "Elite Division." They are the brainchild of crew member Louis "Chip" Williams, a 16-year refuse-division veteran.

"We are the backbone," Williams explained.

Added Jackson: "Every day we're out there grinding it out, in any type of weather - rain, snow, cold, hot - just like the mailman."

Tyrone Burrell, who oversees the township refuse and recycling crews, had encouraged them - and those manning the 14 other trash and recycling trucks - to hustle so they could finish early.

"My goal was to get them out of the heat. I told them, 'You know what you have to do, so buckle down and do it so you can get out of here.' "

The men of Truck 5916 - unofficial motto: "Don't Mess with Sixteen" - took that message to heart. As they plied their route in the Shortridge Tract in Wynnewood and in neighborhoods near Narberth, they collected trash with an urgency that contrasted with the torpor-inducing climate of the day.

They came prepared: Jackson and Williams with half-gallon jugs of ice water; driver Jason Geary, 28, with a case of bottled water. Sympathetic residents offered liquid refreshment as well, but the crew was reluctant to stop. "We'd rather keep going down the street," Jackson said. From experience, they knew that the heat builds, and peaks in mid-afternoon.

The route Wednesday, with many old and tall trees, was shadier than others, which made it more pleasant. Both Jackson and Williams further protected their heads from solar assault with floppy Army boonie hats.

They moved quickly, efficiently, with practiced coordination. It was obvious that they are a lubricated team, that they know and anticipate each other's ways. The crew's easy camaraderie is symbolized by its mascot, a battered Chip Hazard doll, the flat-topped, hypertrophic leader of the Commando Elite from the movie Small Soldiers, lashed to the back of the truck with a bicycle inner tube.

"It's not the most glamorous job in the world, but we try to keep it lighthearted and fun," said Jackson. An earplug attached to his iPod was amusing his brain with Pulse of the People by Dead Prez.

Williams, 37, of Lansdowne, and Jackson, 32, of Ardmore, are alumni of Lower Merion High School, where both played football, and where Jackson also wrestled and played baseball. For a while, they worked out together in a gym. They are careful about keeping their bodies tuned for their work. Wednesday, before boarding their truck, they performed stretches and abdominal crunches.

"We try not to be too superhero with the cans," said Jackson, explaining the secret to avoiding injury in such a physically demanding job.

In their rounds, they may walk from five to 10 miles a day, they estimate. Geary, a Harriton grad who lives in Drexel Hill, has lost 50 pounds since October, and now tips the scale at a relatively lean 225.

The worst part of collecting trash on a sweltering day?

"The maggots, the bugs, the smell," Jackson said. "Everything comes alive. You open some cans and there are so many maggots, it's like Times Square on New Year's Eve."

A major annoyance: A trash container full of the harvest from a bagless vacuum cleaner.

"The dust and animal hair fly out and stick to your sweaty skin," Williams said. "It's the worst."

By 1 p.m., the crew was done for the day. After dumping the truck, the men would go home. All three were eager for the same thing: a shower.