I like to use paint with a low lead content.

When I paint I find it’s best to do it in a room with little or no ventilation. I do my best thinking when it’s just me and a fuming can of paint. Case in point, this post is being written in a room I am painting, as I take a short break. This is a unique opportunity to capture my thoughts. Usually I don’t remember exactly what I thought, when I am done painting. I only remember that the thoughts were truly profound.

It occurs to me that some people use their blogs as a tool to promote the public good. For this reason I have chosen to use this post as a public service message. Here it is. When painting, especially if you are think painting, like me, it is important to understand the dangers of lead based paint.

Lead is toxic and known to cause many health problems most notably in small children. You may ask, “What health problems,” and, “Why small children in particular?” To which I answer, “Look it up.” This is a “warning message” about lead not a detailed informational piece. Before I go any further I should say this, DON’T USE LEAD BASED PAINT! At most lead should be a minor ingredient added for color or taste. The same goes for gasoline. It’s not necessary to buy premium, but for your children, for the world, buy unleaded gas.

I went to the store to see how easy it is to buy the silent killer that is lead based paint. I knew full well the dangers that potentially lurked around each corner. After visiting the hardware store, two lumberyards and a paint store, I reviewed my findings. In four stores I could have unknowingly bought lead based paint zero times. Undaunted, I went to the local gas station and found that they don’t sell any gasoline with lead in it.

It turns out that lead hasn’t been added to residential paint since 1978 and leaded gasoline has been illegal to sell for on-road vehicles since 1995. With this knowledge my thoughts drifted where the thoughts of most people would. Where did all of this lead come from during the heyday of lead paint and leaded gasoline? And where does the lead go now? To answer these burning questions I set out to visit a lead mine in Park Hills, Missouri. The mine is located within the Ozarks in an area known as the Old Lead Belt. My wife packed me a lunch. It contained neither Ranchragious Pringles nor Cheezums Pringles. I stopped at a Quick Stop for some gas and some Cheezums Pringles, unleaded gas premium chips.

When I arrived at the mine, I noticed right away that the lead industry has been devastated by our overzealous legislative branch, which does all it can to stifle one industry after another in its prime. I spoke to the mine foreman, Ricardo Gonzalez Sanchez the Third (not his real name). I remarked to him that I was curious about why his family gave three generations of Sanchez that same name. He reminded me that Ricardo Gonzalez Sanchez the Third was not his real name. I let it drop. He told me how lead is mined and a bit about the history and tradition of this respected industry. There are more than 1,000 miles of abandoned tunnels in this Missouri mine. Which doesn’t seem like a lot until I considered that I didn’t plan to drive 1,000 miles in my whole round trip, and that’s above ground.

Going through the mine I was surprised to find that lead is dug out of the ground and extracted from wooden tubes, which resemble the large oversized novelty pencils sold at tourist traps. I asked Ricardo about this. He told me that the “novelty pencils” are dug out of the ground and hauled up to the surface where the wood is burned off and the miners are left with pure lead. It was a great system but now there isn’t enough volume in the business to make lead mining profitable. No one will buy oversized novelty pencils with real led in them and the wood is of such poor quality that there is no market for it either, even if you could get the lead out without destroying it.

I said, “Hey Blinkin, let me ask you this…”

He said, “Did you say ‘Abe Lincoln’?”

I said, “No. I said ‘Hey Blinkin’!”

He said, “Who’s Blinkin?”

I said, “That’s my nick name for you, because you have a bit of an eye twitch.”

He said, “I would prefer you called me Ricardo.” (not his real name) I relented. This Blinkin (Ricardo) was a shrewd man.

I asked Ricardo who buys lead these days. He told me that most lead is sold to bullet makers and alchemists these days. He explained that they don’t buy much right now, but as soon as they perfect their ability to turn lead into gold demand will go through the roof. I looked at him with the sort of patronizing nod and smile that you give a child who has just accomplished something which adults do every day without a second thought.

As I was leaving I watched Ricardo slowly lumber back to the bunkhouse. I yelled, “Hey Ricardo, get the lead out!” He didn’t respond. I drove away chuckling to myself.

About 50 miles down the road I realized someone had stolen my wallet. Suspecting it was Ricardo I headed back to the mine. When I got to the mine I asked around for Ricardo, but no one had heard of anyone with that name. I had been duped. With no money I ran out of gas just south of Iowa City on the way home. I had to hitch hike the rest of the way home. Luckily, on Mulberry Street in North Liberty I was able to get a ride from an old man with a three-foot beard riding in a carriage that resembled an outhouse.