Give a Hoot, don't Pollute!

I was laying in bed this morning thinking about my late Grandfather. I certainly have many great memories of him. I was thinking about the many hours I spent with him and it led me to the time that my sister and I helped him with the church fair that was held at the local fairgrounds. Grandpa K. had been a cook in the CCC camps when he was a young lad. So with that experience he was naturally a shoe-in for any kind of food related activities that there may be. He was a great cook and he knew how to handle cooking for the masses. Our church held a yearly fair, usually in the fall, at the local fairgrounds. It was a one day affair that consisted of bingo, raffles, flea market, games of chance and more importantly food. Grandpa was the head cook for the food. My sister and I always looked forward to helping him, we did everything from serving and collecting money to doing the dishes. Somehow, working with him, it never seemed like work - it was always fun.
My grandfather loved his beer. He could be seen taking a slug from a bottle all day long but, I never saw him drunk. He would drink beer like some would drink a coke or coffee. Anyway, the fair was no different with the exception that he hid his bottle because he knew that some may object... after all it was a church affair.
It was late in the day, my sister had gone home with my parents and I stayed to help clean the kitchen. At that point all the old folks were indulging in some brew that my grandfather provided them. We loaded the truck up and set off to deliver some dishes and pots/pans to a church member who had donated them for use. As we were driving down a country road my grandfather decides to teach me some important life lessons. He tells me that we have to save our environment. We must protect old mother earth. He's going on and on about litter on the sides of the roads and how plastics don't degrade for years and years. It was dusk and the headlights were on, shining down picking up every white piece of trash along the road. At this point in the day his lips were pretty loose as the effects from the last few beers and his exhaustion from the day shown through. He wasn't intoxicated but, he was drinking and driving. As a kid, I never thought to much of it. Whenever we'd be driving down a country road he would have a bottle between his legs, taking a slug every now and then. So, after his "life lesson" we sat in silence while we continued towards town. As we approached the city limits I watched in astonishment as he downed the last quarter bottle of beer, rolled down his window and threw the bottle out the window into the weeds. I was always taught to respect my elders but, at that moment I wanted to scream - "What the fuck are you doing?". Now, I would never address my Grandfather that way, I mean shit, he was my idol. I loved him. But, how could he say one thing and a few minutes later do the exact opposite? I was truly perplexed. He took me home and I remember keeping it to myself for a while. I did, later on, ask my dad about it and he basically shrugged it off saying "yeah, he probably shouldn't have done that". Today I remember it and laugh my ass off. I've told a lot of people that story and they just don't find the humor in it like I do. I think I have a strange sense of humor or maybe it's in my delivery, because things that are silly and I think are hiliarious, others look at me in bewilderment.