KANSAS CITY, Mo. — On a blustery blue Saturday, I stood inside a huge bin filled with piles and piles of newspapers.

There must have been thousands of papers, mainly old issues of The (Kansas City) Star, in stacks as tall as me. Most of them had been organized in paper grocery bags, but hundreds were scattered across the floor of the bin.

I stood, both in awe and horror, staring at the heap of old news piled here at the Kansas City Community Recycling Center.

It was my friend's 28th birthday, and all she wanted was for some friends to help out at the recycling drop-off center. So four of us donned khaki Bridging the Gap vests and helped sort through recyclables.

We each took a different assignment.

The birthday girl in her birthday outfit — knee-high boots, leggings and a skirt — greeted recyclers at the glass station. I'm fairly certain they've never seen a volunteer so stylish, and her station saw plenty of action. Either they liked talking to a pretty girl or people are doing a lot of holiday drinking. The brown and green glass bins seemed a lot busier than the clear.

Another friend hopped up in a truck filled with pieces of plastic foam. As a kid I would have loved to play in all those packing peanuts. But her task was to pack all that squeaky stuff into big bags. Our Motor City friend, used to the chilly Michigan winters, walked the row of receptacles making sure people knew where to put their paper, cardboard, bottles and cans.

Meanwhile, I was sitting on a mound of newspapers. It was my job to organize what I could into bags and put the rest into a separate bin meant for loose sections. I felt strangely responsible for them all.

I stared down at the broken bundles. There were cover stories alongside inserts, coupons and magazines. There were some great stories flung across that floor.

Part of me felt sad. It was like being inside a newspaper morgue. I know stories written today are old and over tomorrow and the lifespan of a paper is about a day, but there was something a bit depressing about throwing away all that hard work.

The Energy Information Administration says newspapers take up about 14 percent of landfill space. Recycling 1 ton of newspapers saves 17 trees and enough energy to watch a few seasons of "Heroes."

So the more I thought about it, it felt less morbid. The trash can or your neighborhood trash bin is where things go to die. At the recycling center, things are waiting to be reborn.

I've never been as good about recycling as I'd like to be. But after spending about two hours at the drop-off center, I know it's time to ditch the Dumpsters and recycle. It's not just saving trees, it's saving the planet.

Osterheldt is a lifestyle columnist at The (Kansas City) Star.