Wheelabrator needs to take responsibility for air quality

We expected Wheelabrator to fabricate direct mailings and distribute false facts (“Baltimore City Council gives preliminary OK to tighter air standards for Wheelabrator trash incinerator,” Feb. ). In the press and halls of government, Wheelabrator minces words and occasionally flat-out lies when forced to take responsibility for the consequences of its industry. For example, its website erroneously labels incineration clean energy. All specialists know that among various waste disposal (and energy generation) technologies, incineration is by far the most toxic (and least efficient). Furthermore, incineration does not reduce waste. By volume (very roughly) garbage intake becomes 30 percent ash and 70 percent exhaust — both dramatically more toxic.

Language allows for incomplete or interpreted statements, but numbers don’t lie. The fact that Wheelabrator wants nothing to do with 24-hour monitoring of its emissions says enough — it has too much to hide. But we understand Wheelabrator: to be candid would be to acknowledge your basal role in making Baltimore’s air some of the nation’s worst. Like most incinerators, you prefer the Trojan horse strategy of selling yourself as a necessary (untrue) service to society in order to profit at Baltimore’s expense.

More than half of the intake could be recycled or composted, yet Wheelabrator argues that a large enough reuse and recycling infrastructure does not yet exist in Baltimore. Maybe that is because Wheelabrator exists! It is one of the causes, not an alternative solution. Large-scale incineration gives society an excuse to not recycle, the way each garbage can gives each pedestrian an excuse to not notice each recycle bin next to it. Problems precede solutions, and the most successful reduce, reuse and recycle projects in this country have all been necessary solutions to trash crises. Baltimore must dispose of incineration if it is to construct a sustainable reuse and recycle infrastructure. Until then this will be harm city, not charm city.

How the Orioles’ Frank Robinson changed my life

Ted Williams is God. Mickey Mantle was my first idol. Frank Robinson is my hero.

Those are my all-time favorite players. I feel compelled to write a remembrance about Frank Robinson after I found out that he had entered the late stages of a lengthy illness (“Frank Robinson, Baltimore Orioles Hall of Famer, dies at 83,” Feb. 7).

I grew up in Baltimore, but I rooted for the Yankees only because of Mickey Mantle. It all changed when the Cincinnati Reds traded an aging 30-year-old player named Frank Robinson to the Baltimore Orioles in December of 1965. The Orioles had been a perennial bottom-10 team in the American League since they moved to Baltimore in 1954. And the city had always been a football town as long as Johnny Unitas continued to take snaps.

The Orioles? A downtrodden team ridiculed by the Yankees. Harry Dalton’s first order of business upon becoming the general manager in 1965 was to trade the Orioles’ best and favorite pitcher, Milt Pappas, to the Cincinnati Reds for Frank Robinson. When the trade was announced, the euphoria of optimism was spreading like wildfire throughout the city. A new phenomenon was beyond describable everywhere from Bethlehem Steel to the doctor’s office and the grocery. It was like life had been renewed and filled with promises.

That was the day I switched my allegiance from the Yankees to the Orioles. I called it a Forever Day. Life had changed for everyone. It changed everything. At every game, we screamed, “We want a hit.” A schoolmate named Richard Smith started to scream in excitement during every game. It never happened before. Frank Robinson was now our hero. He gave us a reason to live. He gave me a whole new meaning for the love for the game. I was only 11 years old.

The Orioles went on to win the 1966 World Series over the mighty Los Angeles Dodgers. Hitting a home run off Don Drysdale in the fourth and last game of the series started the proud history of the Baltimore Orioles and forever changed the lives of many Baltimoreans. It wasn't a football town anymore.

I love the Orioles because of Frank Robinson. Thank you, Frank, for giving us the hope and love of the game.