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It would have been relatively easy to get swept into an environmentally conscious euphoria on Sunday. A little 70-degree weather, a little live music and some overpriced Guatemalan imports will turn any semi-political gathering into the scene for a documentary on Woodstock.

But Earth Day 1990, the 20th anniversary celebration and the supposed renewal of the concerns that spurred the original nationwide gathering on April 22, 1970, just couldn’t match its own hype.

Yes, an estimated 100,000 people showed up in Lincoln Park. Yes, a great deal of information, in the form of pamphlets, directories and lectures was disseminated. Yes, Earth Day 1990 was the largest political demonstration of its kind in history. And yes, the skate-punk-folk singer Michelle Shocked’s brief but effective set sent chills up my spine.

But the trash cans far away from the designated recycling areas overflowed with aluminum cans. The woman from Harvard who came to speak about hydroponics and clean water was drowned out by fans impatient to hear the rock band, BoDeans, who were delayed in traffic. The field in front of the main stage cleared out for all but one or two lecturers. And the girl in front of me, hair sprayed clear up to the ozone layer, ground out about a dozen cigarette butts on the green while keynote speaker Lester R. Brown, founder of the environmentally concerned “Worldwatch Institute, urged the audience to act locally to stop pollution.

Among the peddlers of natural food and Ben & Jerry’s Peace Pops, there was planted a booth by Keim Furriers, advocating that furs were recyclable and biodegradable, while synthetics were not “in harmony with Mother Nature.” No advocates for wool or cotton were in sight.

I don’t mean to imply that Earth Day was an unworthy gathering. Somebody worked very hard to bring environmentalists from all over the place into Lincoln Park for the day. Somebody compiled the directories of resources, sent lesson plans to local schools, and recruited entertainers with a sense of community and ecology. Somebody, without a doubt, became more aware of the deep environmental doo-doo we’re in—because of Earth Day.

But apparently, awareness doesn’t cut it. The people who were too lazy to haul their aluminum cans over to the recycling station Sunday had to know something was up, but they still left their Bud cans scattered around the edges of the overflowing garbage barrels.

Michelle Shocked, whose performance (her third in Chicago this weekend) at noon was the day’s entertainment highlight, gave the crowd some wise advice from her father.

“Human beings,” she told the crowd, “are the only beings on Earth who shit in their own nest.” Well, I guess Michelle never owned a hamster, but metaphorically she has a point. What is the sense in becoming aware if we don’t actually change our actions accordingly?

Out of all the performers and most of the lecturers, Shocked had the most intelligent, least blatant commentary on the problem the day was designed to address. Like everyone else, she advocated individual action.

Her last song, a sing-along that moved the crowd to its feet, went something like this: “We were making jam (making jam), Strawberry jam (strawberry jam), If you want the best jam (the best jam), You gotta make your own.”