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I mail my article to the newspaper and wait to see what will happen. I receive a phone call from the paper; a reporter is interested in adding more to my story. She comes out to the house to talk to me about what could be done. She also goes down to the river with me and takes pictures. She travels further up river, where I have not yet been, to get pictures of what is happening.

The article runs in the Friday night paper. It talks about littering and the environment. It also talks a lot about "one young girl" who is trying to make a difference. I don't want publicity for me, I want it for the river.

Saturday morning dawns clear and cool. This will be a good day to walk the river's edge further upstream. I put on my old clothes and my beat-up old tennis shoes, my official "clean the river" uniform. I go downstairs and have a piece of fruit for breakfast. I grab a roll of trash bags, a sandwich and drink for lunch, and head out for the river.

While walking along I remember my dream. All those people, standing around the river, laughing and throwing trash in. I remember the little bird with the plastic ring around its neck and how no one cared about it. I try to think of ways to let people know what they are doing is wrong.


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