By Eva C. Visperas

 

WE never learn.

That line has been echoing in my head after a morning walk along Lingayen Beach—again. And the longer I stayed, the heavier it felt. Not because of the sun, not because of the walk, but because of what we continue to leave behind.

We take our environment for granted. We always have. We throw our trash anywhere, or worse, we leave it behind and walk away as if someone else is automatically responsible. We tell ourselves, “May maglilinis naman.” Someone will clean it up.

We also fail—often miserably—to teach our children about cleanliness. And if we are honest, we are poor examples ourselves. We lecture, but we litter. We remind, but we repeat the same bad habits.

Whether we admit it or not, that is the truth.

That morning, the beach was alive. Families were strolling, some swimming, others cooking breakfast on portable stoves. It could have been a postcard scene—shared meals, laughter, bonding at one of Pangasinan’s most historic beaches.

It should have been a sight to behold.

But the happy faces were overshadowed by an all-too-familiar sight: trash here, litter there. Plastic cups, food wrappers, bottles—left behind without shame. No second thought to how it ruins the image of a beach we claim to love, a beach we use for fitness walks, reflection, and family bonding.

We often come here as a family, especially when my children—now living far from home—return for special occasions. Christmas Day was no exception. We looked forward to that quiet bonding by the sea.

Yet again, the same observation, worse every year: trash everywhere.

What happened to the good manners and right conduct drilled into us in school? CLAYGO. Clean as you go. Simple. Basic. Forgotten.

And if Christmas wasn’t enough proof, New Year’s Day delivered the same depressing picture.

What would visitors say about us? Dugyot? Is that how we want to be remembered?

Or are visitors themselves partly to blame? Tourists who enjoy the place but leave their waste behind as souvenirs?

Yes, coastal clean-ups by various sectors help—but only temporarily. They are tiring, energy-draining, and frankly unfair when the same mess returns days later.

Are we forever dependent on garbage collectors, provincial employees, or LGU workers assigned to “regular clean-ups” along Lingayen Beach? Must someone always clean up after us like children who never grew up?

While writing this piece, a media colleague who frequents Lingayen and Binmaley beaches messaged me: “Medyo mabaho sa Binmaley beach, dami basura na di nakolekta, nakasako.”
I replied that while driving around town, I often see sacks of garbage dumped or left uncollected along streets—even on national highways.

His response was sharp: “Grabe, tapos sasabihin nila fake news yung lumalabas sa socmed.”

Garbage is a big problem. Not just in Lingayen or Binmaley, but everywhere. And no amount of denial can deodorize reality.

From where I live, near a cemetery, plastics greet me every morning—scattered outside our gate despite regular clean-ups, especially on days of internments. People park, attend burials, then leave their trash behind as if my gate were a dumpsite. Baby diapers included. Nauseating? Absolutely.

What’s ironic is how well-dressed these people are. You would admire their appearance. But their attitude toward proper waste disposal? Ridiculous.

It’s 2026. And this old, ugly problem still nags us.

This is not just about trash. This is about discipline. Respect. Accountability. You don’t need a resolution, a budget, or a committee to throw trash properly. You need pakialam.

If you brought it, take it home.

If you used it, dispose of it properly.

If you love this place, show it.

Clean beaches are not built by clean-up drives alone. They are sustained by clean habits.

The sea remembers what we forget.

And trash, unlike excuses, does not disappear on its own.