Dumpster diving. This is one of the best accounts of the strange elation of dumpster diving I've ever read. It's Dirk Jamison's first-hand account of his father's revelation that life was too short to do shit-work for eating money, especially when you can trash an unlimited supply of free eats and treats at any supermarket you care to name. The trash lifestyle drove the final nail into Jamison's parents' marriage, tore apart the family, and makes for some very gripping reading.
Whenever things got ugly between my parents, Dad would split for a while. Mom always said "separated" on the telephone with her friends. Dad said "vacation." Once, he drove his orange Honda 350 to Baja to spearfish and lounge in his hammock. He sent a postcard claiming that trash in Mexico really was trash. Another time, he flew alone to Hawaii (knowing Mom had always been dreamy for it), bleached his hair white, and got a permanent, which he wore like a haystack with a red bandana around it. He was touring reefs on small rented catamarans while Mom was crawling under the house with that damn propane torch to thaw the pipes.
