WHOLE PELICAN

WP—1
06–14–25

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Mercer Street, Port Richmond

The Momentum of Very Rough Edges

by Chris Andrew

Philadelphia, Pennsylvannia

There are two Danish idioms I’m quite fond of — both, ironically, overplays of modest, innocuous animals:

Det blæser en halv pelikan
Gå I ged

Translated:

It’s blowing half a pelican (It’s very windy)
Gone to goat (It failed)

We’re incessantly told that change is constant — that persistent change is something to be embraced. We’re often told this by those who have power over us, those who distribute change for their own benefit, for trades that drive incremental gains for the top-down “collective good.” Despite this hierarchical administration of change, we wade through the discomfort with little opposition — after all, we enjoy lives of climbing, earning, and aspiration, affording us the experience and purpose we so desperately need.

Nonetheless, we hate change — we were born to change, but also born to hate it. I hate change — change, abhorrent and constant, is an intolerable thing. Heavy wind and failure are guarantees that are far more bearable and forgivable.

On the topic of heavy wind, Philadelphia’s tree canopy took a temporary hit in March of this year when $12 million in federal funding was frozen, putting an unceremonious pause on a grant for the Philly Tree Plan. Since 2023, the Philly Tree Plan (helmed by the Tree Philly program within Philadelphia Parks & Recreation) has enjoyed some mild success in beautifying our city. As reported by The Philadelphia Citizen, Tree Philly oversaw the planting of over 3,700 new trees across Philadelphia neighborhoods in 2024, helping to combat the loss of tree canopies and green space due to development.

On the topic of failure, the aforementioned $12 million allocated to the Philly Tree Plan was unceremoniously unfrozen in April after a federal judge in South Carolina restored the grant in response to a federal lawsuit filed by the Southern Environmental Law Center, effectively preserving grants originally instated by the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022. Failure, of course, is in the eye of the beholder. Game on, Philly Tree Plan.

Lately, I’ve been meditating on the nature of failure. Every day, we’re presented with a barrage of failures: personal, professional, societal, economic, etc. With this endemic manifestation of failure, one might actually believe that our selves, states, cities, neighborhoods are all, to some degree, failed. Philadelphia is no stranger to failure, but I would argue that it’s anything but a failed city, despite the hot takes of our detractors. In our modern society, detraction is overpowering. When I was growing up in the 90s, entertainment was the culture; now, with political governance assuming more and more influence over culture, we’re adrift in a sea of antagonism and disunity. However, as I mentioned, failure is in the eye of the beholder, and heavy winds do shift positions of failure on a nearly daily basis. Mastering intellectual composure through patience is virtuous.

Then, finally, how do we become heavy wind following a failure? Well, you can start by planting a tree. The best revenge against any one or any thing is living well — I’m an advocate for living well, regardless of your reasons why. Living well in Philadelphia is no illusive thing and, dare I say, more accessible than our deep socio-economic problems might imply. This city — already beautiful, walkable, architectural, authentic, direct, and tasty as fuck — is as delightful as it is sincere. Which is why — even when drivers casually run over trees — we could not possibly condemn hot-blooded personalities for their indiscretions, for they do not act with malice against the city but against degeneration. How can we channel this disruptive energy into more positive and socially advantageous acts of defiance? Well, you can start by planting a tree. I know it might not sound very revolutionary, provocative, or dopaminergic, but trees and tree canopies will improve our lives exponentially. Philadelphia, if you’re worried about losing your edge, don’t worry: we can still be cunts — but, hopefully, cunts who live under the splendor of glorious canopies. There is no good reason not to beautify your city — it doesn’t take much, especially when Philadelphia Parks & Recreation makes it relatively easy to create movement across our many rough edges. At the very least, they make it easy to get started.

If you’ve checked Zillow lately — which I know you have — you might have realized that homes on tree-lined streets fetch higher listing prices. There’s no great mystery here: beautification is bounty, regardless of how you classify or perceive bounties. If your wallet is your primary concern, the logic of the Philly Tree Plan works in your favor. For everyone else, let this essay serve as a soft push to do the thing you inherently know is fine and fair.

In a world of noise, one can create an interminable shade. Every day, we do the work of the living — we must also allow the work of a living nature to give us coverage in this increasingly uncertain world. A question persists: who has my back? Well, it was always the earth, and will always be the earth for as long as we underwrite it. In heavy wind and failure, we can always choose to see things as they are and as they’ve always been, in their unchanging grace: green.