Published March 18, 2007 in the Hibbing Daily Tribune
By Aaron J. Brown
In the book “Guns, Germs and Steel” by Jared Diamond, the noted geographer details how farming societies overcame hunter gatherer societies to create what we now call civilization. Interestingly, farming societies emerged out of the septic fields of ancient hunter gatherers. Seeds that survived human consumption grew in these fields, the smell of which I can’t even imagine, becoming crops. Those crops allowed bigger tribes to form, new technology, domestic animals and eventual resistance to killer diseases. Many, many, many years later we now have Nintendo and nuclear weapons. In other words, all the social upheaval of the last 15 millennia has generally favored the people who at one time in their history ate where they “went.” I’m left pondering this as I gaze out my office window at my septic pipes.
This winter in Northern Minnesota, we’ve heard more than usual about septic systems. Before last week’s big snow, our winter was very dry and cold. Many rural septic systems froze out, causing in many basements an effect similar to pouring gravy on a giant block of ice. Thus homeowners receive a quick education about the physics and engineering involved in home septic systems. I was fortunate in that our family’s relatively new septic system did not freeze, but I know many who weren’t as lucky.
I’m only in my second year of rural life after several years living in the big city of Hibbing, where public sewers are decidedly less finicky than personal septic systems. Sure, sometimes the aging infrastructure of a small town gives out, but by and large the sewers are quite forgiving. You may have a garbage disposal in your sink, for instance, and wash away old food stuff to a watery grave. There are limits, however. When in Hibbing, we pressure washed old paint off our basement floor down the drain. Later, we had to scoop mealy wads of sewage tainted lime green paint chips into garbage bags when they proved too much for the line to handle. Then we had to call a man with something called a snake. Oops! That learned us good.
If you were to tour a wastewater treatment plant, you would learn that nothing disappears when it gets flushed away; it just goes someplace else. The most memorable detail about a wastewater treatment plant is the layer of tampon applicators that top the holding tanks like marshmallows in hot chocolate. Indeed, flushing doesn’t eliminate anything. City residents may think that, like in “Finding Nemo,” “all drains lead to the sea.” But, in truth, they lead to a tank somewhere, and Nemo would be dead either from Drano poisoning or when the solid waste fan chopped him up. Sorry kids.
Things are different in the country, but only in destination. What you put down the drains of your house stays on your property. If anything goes wrong it is very much your problem. Many people are learning that the hard way this winter.
From an ecological standpoint, a water based system of waste disposal isn’t especially friendly to the environment. In towns you have to treat the water, resulting is highly concentrated and fairly dangerous solid waste. In the country you must store the waste in a tank that needs to be emptied periodically, the same way the Morlocks from “The Time Machine” must come up from underground to feed on the Eloi. It’s not a perfect system, but it’s the way things run. A winter like this one is just a rather unpleasant reminder.
So when you next flush, remember, all drains do not lead to the sea, despite what cartoon fish might tell you.
Aaron J. Brown is a columnist for the Hibbing Daily Tribune.