Uptown Magazine: Charlotte Center City and Downtown

My mother thinks I'm crazy. So much so, that she now can't stand when my newly engaged sister and I talk, for fear that I am "negatively" influencing her. And all I did was get married.

Well, to be more truthful, I should say that all I did was have a wedding. A big fat wedding, with all the fanciness one could imagine. A cocktail hour involving a sushi station and a vodka slide. A Viennese hour that would rival a carnival. A bridal party the size of a football team. I realized how unnecessary most of it was. But I was unsuspectingly sucked into the "wedding machine" propelled by society.

The landfill reveals itself slowly.

Our truck winds through a tire-worn path of beige mud, ascending this dreary mountain with a 10.7 ton payload of the city's refuse. Behind hills of drab dirt, we reach the unloading zone. The truck turns around and backs up until it settles into the tire impressions of who-knows-how-many trucks that have already been here today. The tailgate opens. Out pours a thick paste of dark sludge, punctuated by flashes of brightly colored packaging that become unrecognizable en masse.

The world has gone green. People carry re-useable bags as they shop, more and more gas pumps are sporting ethanol stickers, and you can't avoid the ubiquitous recycling bins at grocery stores, cafeterias, and government buildings. However, as much as individuals promote "going green," there is one habit we aren't willing to change: our dependence on electricity.

My conversation with Russell Jewett, Ph.D., and subsequent two-hour tour of his brand new Sencera facility, in West Charlotte, were disarmingly fun—so much so that a couple of times I had to force myself to remember the importance and value of his creation. The guy has been visited by Beverly Perdue, Sue Myrick, and John Lassiter of late, and even though Sencera has yet to sell its first solar panel, his vision and ability have been backed to the tune of $18 million by confident investors.