Djelloul Marbrook

I dislike the term flash in the pan because if what looks like gold for a second happens to flash in someone’s pan I’m content to admire it that one time. If the sun glorifies green bottle glass I’m content that it’s not emerald. I like mica schist and fool’s gold as much as gold. I like dandelions and loosestrife as much as hybrid tea roses.

Our national Bradford Pear Tree crisis moves me to these ruminations. The U.S. Department of Agriculture introduced the Bradford in 1963 and it quickly rivaled the sycamore in popularity. Its symmetrical canopy and lovely white blossoms herald spring in hundreds of cities and towns.

But it seems the Bradford has a relatively short life span, fifty or sixty years, and then its limbs become brittle, endangering cars and pedestrians. And, like the gingko, it’s less than fragrant. So now Baltimore and many other cities are removing their once prized Bradfords. The beauty is in bad odor.

Another reason I dislike the term flash in the pan is that it speaks of a consumerist aesthetic. How many times have we seen some foolish critic complain a book or a film or an exhibition isn’t up to the writer’s or artist’s previous work? Who gives a damn? I’m not up to Balzac or Alexander the Great, but that shouldn’t lessen anyone’s enjoyment of my few merits.

I think we should thank it for the joy it has given us, instead of lamenting its fragility. We ourselves are fragile and our lifespan is little more than the Bradford’s. We hope not to be unceremoniously removed, and so we should supplant the Bradford with thanks and respect. —DM