If not for the humble bottle redemption, Conn. might be Illinois

I’m so old that I actually covered the passage of the original Connecticut bottle bill in 1978, and what I mainly remember is lobbyists for every imaginable point on the continuum from the brewing of beer and soda to the bottling to the distribution to the retail sale to the eventual urinating of the product.

All of the lobbyists predicted the collapse of the economy, the demise of organized religion, the rise of zombies, the increase in frequency and size of kidney stones and the gradual erosion of the backbone of America which apparently consists, at least partly, of the ability to drain a can or bottle into your mouth and then hurl that container aside with no thought to what might ever become of it.

Those bad things did not happen, and there really was considerably less litter all over the place. Bottle bills exist in 10 states, and there’s no question that they reduce litter and injuries from broken glass, as well as forcing the beverage industry to take responsibility for its solid waste.

States that have container deposits recycle 60 to 70 percent of those containers. Those without: 24 to 33 percent. So if you’re reading this in Illinois, which a lot of people do, there’s a reason your surroundings look so crappy.

I personally do not return cans and bottles to claim deposit money.

For many years my Significant Other was in charge of a program which involved keeping a few big black bags of those things in her car until she happened to spy, on the streets of Hartford, a person pushing a shopping cart or riding a bike while perilously balancing several similar big black bags full of empties.

When approaching the person, she considered it important to say something like, “Can you help me out here? Would you mind?” before handing over her bags.

Because you don’t want to act like you think you’re making that person’s day with your refuse.

A year ago, she got sick, and I took over the job. I couldn’t be bothered to wait for serendipitous crossings of paths, so I found out where a lot of those guys redeem stuff. I just drive it over there find somebody at one of the redemption machines and ask that same question. “Can you help me out?”

Considering that the person is already pushing empties into a redemption machine, I’m pretty confident that he — it’s almost always a man — isn’t going to say it’s too much trouble to do mine and keep the money.

I’m sure there are numerous possible ethical flaws with this practice. I’m sure I will hear about them. I realize that a high percentage of these people have untreated drug, alcohol and gambling addictions, but I’m also reasonably confident that giving them extra empty containers is not going to do anything but make their unfortunate lives slightly more easy.

The deposits that are paid by consumers but never redeemed are — Connecticut — escheats and must be paid to the state by the distributors, who once upon a time were allowed to just keep them. We’re talking tens of millions of dollars, so one thing you could do to help the state budget would be the fill your basement with empty seltzer cans and never redeem them..

That may already be happening because the rate of redeeming deposit containers has been falling. We’re below 50 percent in Connecticut now. This cannot continue or we will turn into Illinois, which is overrun with cockroaches and goats.

So in 2024, the deposit will increase from five cents to 10. And other kinds of bottles, including kombucha, will join the program starting in 2023, which gives you plenty of

I don’t think you can hang the deposit increase on the guys I give my bags to. I don’t think they were slacking off because the money wasn’t great. But somebody is.

time to start or stop drinking kombucha, depending on how you feel about all this.

I don’t think you can hang the deposit increase on the guys I give my bags to. I don’t think they were slacking off because the money wasn’t great. But somebody is.

Michigan and Oregon both increased their deposits to 10 cents, and their sagging redemption rates shot back up. Michigan’s has been hovering around 89 to 91 percent ever since. Meanwhile, nips. Nips are those little shot-sized liquor bottles you see behind the register at package stores as well as covering 38 percent of the ground in public parks.

I think we have to be honest and admit that most nips are purchased by fairly desperate alcoholics. I suppose some of them are bought by people tapering off or people who have never had a drink before and don’t know if they’ll like it or people who expect the world to end soon and don’t want to be raptured up leaving behind bulging liquor cabinets.

But there’s probably a significant overlap between the guys I rendezvous with at the redemption machines and the guys who buy nips.

Starting pretty much now, the nips will cost an extra 5 cents but there will be no way for the purchaser or anyone else to get that 5 cents back. Instead, it will go to the town government where the nip was bought.

So the town can hire some people to pick up the nip bottles from its parks. There’s some risk that the people hired will also be from that same group of people who redeem other bottles and buy nips. Which sets up a vicious cycle.

But we have to try something, right? I mean, look at Illinois.