Trending
Sometimes being a nice guy leaves you - well - hanging in a precarious position.
Such was the case with Luke, a dog we never aspired to own, but that changed when we took one off the hands of friends who could no longer afford to keep him.
Luke spent most of his days outside, as was the case on this particular day, when he decided to explore in more detail the creek that ran alongside our property and which separated our family's home from the neighbor's property.
The neighbor's daughter chose that afternoon to lay out a towel as she was about to sunbathe, and Luke – thinking it was the neighborly thing to do and visit - promptly exited the creek, ran up to her and vigorously shook the water off himself and onto her and her towel.
What I have failed to share until now is more information about the creek. You see the creek wasn't a creek as most of us would imagine. Oh no, this was a creek in the heart of East Ohio's coal country, and it was laden with acid mine drainage that turned it into an orange color.
My neighbor's daughter, and later that afternoon her father, were irate with Luke. So much for a nice afternoon catching some rays.
I flashed back to that disturbing memory recently when I saw a story about researchers with my alma mater - West Virginia University - who were optimistic about the possibility of removing heavy metals from acid mine drainage.
If this indeed pans out, it would be a win-win for science, the economy, and the environment.
So let me give you a few more facts and paint a picture for you this morning about my family's life in the early years.
Like many newlywed couples, Diane and I hoped one day to move from our rather small, rented apartment to a home of our own. While the dream was feasible, our meager wages certainly limited our choices. We ended up purchasing that "dream house" out "in the country."
For perspective, I could have purchased two homes back then for less than what I paid for a new car last year.
Diane and I should have heeded the real estate advice of "location, location, location."
Instead, all we were seeing was "potential, potential, potential."
In our desire to own a home, we ignored its many flaws and imperfections.
The house's major drawback was the gob pile behind it and the creek beside it.
For those unfamiliar, a gob pile is the abandoned waste product from coal mining. Because it is the junk and discards from the coal mining process, nothing grows on it and it is high in sulfur and carbon content. Exposure to water turns it often times into an orange color, which explains now the color of the creek.
Today, I wonder what in the world Diane and I were thinking about when we purchased the house with such eyesores both behind and beside it. Back then, however, all we could see were stars in our eyes.
And, since this was in the heart of coal country, gob piles were certainly more the norm around the region than they were the exception. I suppose because of that, we didn't give it the proper evaluation that we should have.
This is what I know now - gob piles are an ugly environmental threat that if researchers are correct in their initial findings, could soon undergo a major metamorphosis.
Should heavy, rare earth metals be able to be removed feasibly from this waste, it would go a long way toward our country not having to be dependent on other countries for our source of such metals.
And, in the process, the acid mine drainage would be cleaned up as well. Instead of an orange creek, we might instead have had a normal-colored creek.
I'm rooting for the WVU researchers. I hope they are successful.
I also know of one sunbather who probably feels the same way.
Bill Speer retired in 2021 as the publisher and editor of The News. He can be reached at bspeer@thealpenanews.com.