PRESTONSBURG — Jenny Wiley State Resort Park held its annual spring cleanup, “Operation Clean Sweep,” over the weekend, bringing several hundred people from churches, scout troops, civic clubs and the general public out Saturday morning to pick up tons of trash from the roadside, shoreline and hillsides.

My family was among those taking part, but for us, it all began much earlier — Jan. 28, to be exact.

That was one day after this winter’s ice storm, which left much of Eastern Kentucky crippled by fallen trees and power lines. We were among those who lost power, which also meant that we lost heat. With the house still somewhat warm from residual heat, we toughed it out the first night, but by the next morning we knew we would need another place to stay if power weren’t restored. We waited until evening, to first see if the electricity would come back on. When it didn’t, we began searching for a motel room, but “no vacancy” signs greeted us everywhere we looked.

Just as we were about to give up, my wife hit upon the idea of calling the park to see if rooms were available at May Lodge. As it turned out, the park had also lost power during the storm, getting it back only a couple of hours before my wife made that call. They had plenty of rooms available, and to make things even better, they were only charging ice storm refugees such as ourselves $35 a night.

In this day and age, you often hear about businesses ratcheting up prices during an emergency, to take advantage of people when they have no other choice. I was very impressed, not to mention appreciative, that not only was the Lodge refusing that impulse, they were actually giving people a break when they needed it the most.

During the ice storm, the park turned out to be my family’s savior. We ended up staying there three nights, until our power was restored, and I resolved that I would do anything in my power to repay the debt.

Fast-forward to a day at work a couple of weeks ago. I was reading over Jarrid Deaton’s story about the upcoming cleanup at the park, when my earlier promise started ringing through my mind. This was something I could do. More than that, this was something my family should do, having been the beneficiaries of the park’s kindness.

And so, on Saturday morning, my wife and I woke bright and early, coaxed our two sons out of bed with nothing but the promise of a half-day of hard work, and away we went.

Now, having been in the newspaper business for nearly 17 years, I’ve attended quite a few community events such as this in the past, and most of the time the public’s participation hasn’t exactly been what you would call impressive. I was expecting this to be no different and had anticipated that a few dozen people at most would show up.

To say I was surprised by the size of the crowd when we arrived would be an understatement. There were hundreds of people milling about the disc golf course — Cub Scouts, Boy Scouts, church groups, college and Job Corps students, and many more whose affiliations, if any, I couldn’t readily ascertain. We made our way to the registration tables, signed up, snagged some spiffy t-shirts, listened to the safety talk and away we went.

We were assigned to an area by the mountain bike trails. At first, my wife and sons started heading up the trails while I walked along the road, picking up trash. Not finding a whole lot to pick up, I walked across the road, looked over the hill to the lake shore below and found a sight that both sickened me and gave my family a chore where we could do the most good.

Scattered and piled along the shore was the flotsam and jetsam cast off by those with wanton indifference for the environment. I summoned my family and we got to work.

Part of the problem could be seen in the hundreds of beer bottles, scores of liquor bottles and, most disturbingly, couple dozen prescription pill bottles we collected. But while it would be convenient to blame drunkenness for all the environmental irresponsibility we witnessed, it wouldn’t be accurate. For all of the alcohol and drug bottles we collected, there were far more soda bottles, water bottles, cigarette butts and fast food containers.

Some of the trash we found made a certain sort of sense — the discarded bait cups, the fishing tackle or the torn water toys, for example. Other things, however, seemed hopelessly out of place, like the wooden shipping pallet, the half-full can of gas or the water-filled tire, still on its corroded rim.

As I picked up the trash, I sometimes wondered if the items I was collecting had a story to tell. Were the football, basketball and tetherball, all found within 50 feet of each other, merely forgotten by a child, or was there a deeper story to tell? How exactly does a plastic chicken dinner plate, clear cover still attached, make its way 20 feet from the road, uphill, through trees and brush? Was the grouping of perfume and makeup bottles and worm cups arranged merely by chance, or is there a fisherwoman out there who believes in always looking her best?

We finished one little cove and, with plenty of time to spare, moved on to the next. This one, however, was much larger, and I was starting to doubt we could finish it before quitting time. Just then, I looked up the hill, toward a picnic area by the road, and saw a large group of people marching toward us, all clad in the orange “Operation Clean Sweep” t-shirts and carrying garbage bags. It was Dr. John Shiber and the Big Sandy Community and Technical College biology club. I watched as they swooped down en masse, made quick work of the cove in which we were working and then made their way on up the shore, leaving a trail of cleanliness behind them.

After they passed through, there was little else for us to do except comb the weeds for the more hidden trash and, finally, to collect our bags and set them beside the road. In the end, my family filled 15 garbage bags, mostly from an area along the shore extending the length of a football field.

Back at the disc golf course, the park had a feast of hot dogs, hamburgers, chips and some extremely tasty baked beans waiting for all the participants, as well a seemingly endless list of door prizes.

Later, as we walked to our car to leave, I thought back to my ice storm debt and wondered if my day’s labor had satisfied it. I thought of the shirt I had been given, the lunch I had eaten, the satisfaction I had received from doing a worthwhile job and all the fun I’d had connecting with my family and talking with old friends, and I decided that I had probably benefited from the cleanup as much as the park did.

Looks like we will have to return next year to keep working at it.