I recently took my kids, ages 3 and 5, to the dump. Not to drop them off. We homeschool, and I wanted to show them where garbage goes. 

The dump these days looks different than when I was a kid. Back then, there were a few designated areas for tires or old fridges, but it was mostly one big heap of junk. Today, it’s called a “waste transfer station.” Areas are clearly marked: “Cardboard,” “Scrap Metal,” “Brush,” etc. 

Still, two large drop-off areas just say “Garbage.” That’s where everything else ends up.

It’s no secret that waste generation is at an all-time high. And I regret to report that Michigan is the worst offender. Yes, we’re No. 1 in the country in landfill waste per capita—72.1% above the national average.

The EPA estimates that Americans produce 25% more household waste every year between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day. But you don’t need a government agency to tell you that. Just look around. 

At my local HomeGoods store, the woman at the register tells me that the afternoon prior had been the busiest day she’d ever seen. It was the day after Christmas and all holiday merchandise was 50% off. “I’ve never seen so much Christmas stuff leave this store,” she says. 

I look at the shelves. They’re still filled to the brim with holiday goods. 

“Where does it all go if it doesn’t sell?” I ask. She tells me they leave it out at a discount for a few weeks, then pack it up to be sent back to company warehouses. From there, it’s a toss-up. I know this from working retail myself. Some of it’s donated to thrift stores. Some of it’s recycled. Some of it’s trashed. 

It has to go somewhere, I explain to my kids as they stare into the chasm of garbage before us. We go to the thrift store next. 

Leading up to the holidays, secondhand shelves are always chock-full of Santa mugs and fake trees, snow globes and stockings. And of course: rack after rack of holiday clothes. 

Thrift stores receive an absurd influx of Christmas socks, slippers, sweatshirts, and other festive garb after the holidays. Bags upon bags of disposable fashion. So much that some stores have started turning people away. Perhaps the worst offenders are holiday pajamas. These are often worn once, then donated. Even if they’re donned a handful times, the environmental cost per wear is egregious. 

Meanwhile, my 95-year-old grandmother has been wearing the same Christmas sweatshirt every year since I was 7.  

You might think all this waste is due to people not recycling. If we recycled more, we wouldn’t have this issue. But we recycle now more than ever. Recycling in Michigan is at an “all-time high.” 

The problem, of course, is hyper-consumerism. The problem is seeing something that might be sort of useful one time and thinking you need to have it. Once you’re on the conveyor belt of TikTok and Instagram sponsored ads, it’s hard to stop yourself. 

If you take a step back, of course, you can see that the vast majority of products being pushed are truly ridiculous. Especially if you were born before 2000, when most of this stuff didn’t exist: travel charcuterie boards, ornament-shaped ice cube molds, spinning Christmas tree stands, a huge multi-part Lazy Susan that rotates around the length of your dining table so you don’t have to pass dishes. Are we really that lazy? 

The issues of hyper-consumerism aren’t just waste management problems either. They’re compounded at home. Everyone knows how difficult it is to stay organized when there’s a river of new things entering your house every day. The boxes, the packaging, the storage, the space. It’s a headache. It shouldn’t be a shock to learn that clutter is linked with poor mental and physical health, and hoarding is on the rise. 

I know the feeling of wanting to buy the ridiculous stuff. It can seem so legitimate in the moment. Of course I need a gilded electric carving knife, and this woman says it’s the best brand!  Furthermore, festive times do deserve special treats and pleasures. Even Laura Ingalls Wilder got a new tin cup and a peppermint candy for Christmas.  

What’s important to remember is that today, more than ever, you are constantly being sold to. And neither Amazon nor Temu care if you end up in debt or buried to your neck in clutter. They’re not concerned with overflowing waste sitting in the middle of the forest. But you should be.

Seeing my kids look disgustedly at heaps of garbage reminded me that even though our trash is out-of-sight and far away for now, it may not always be. If we don’t learn to value what we have, the beautiful Michigan we know today—the one we’ll pass on to future generations—may be lost to the landfill.

Faye Root is a writer and a homeschooling mother based in Northern Michigan. Follow her on X @littlebayschool.