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In the 1950s, alleys behind homes offered more than a route for garbage collection. For curious children, they were hunting grounds filled with discarded objects waiting to be repurposed.

Household waste generally fell into two categories. Food garbage went unwrapped into large buckets, attracting maggots and producing a powerful odor. This was before garbage disposals were common in Southern Indiana, though television commercials during “The Ozzie and Harriet Show” advertised them.

The more promising castoffs landed in neighborhood ash pits. One especially elaborate version stood waist-high, built from cinder blocks with an opening facing the alley. It served as a burning place for autumn leaves and unwanted possessions, from a battered saddle oxford and torn work pants to a Prince Albert tobacco tin or empty Teaberry gum package.

Burning leaves produced a memorable fragrance. Other items smelled considerably worse.

Because houses from two streets backed onto each alley, garbage crews could travel through the middle of the block, emptying cans and collecting anything that had not been burned. Their vehicles followed two dirt tracks worn into the ground, leaving a struggling strip of grass between them.

Searching the ash pits required preparation. Sturdy shoes protected against broken glass, gloves guarded against sharp cans, and a wagon carried discoveries home.

The searches yielded a yellowed wallpaper roll that could be colored, worn comic books, a dented lampshade turned upside down as a flowerpot cover, and an old aquarium saved for a hamster that never arrived. Other children took a more profitable approach, collecting discarded soda bottles and redeeming them for 2 cents apiece—enough, in those days, to help buy a bag of penny candy.

Today, the practice might be called repurposing. Back then, it was creative snooping and an adventure in turning another household’s trash into treasure.