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We at Garbage City appreciate Cans on a daily basis. Come join us.

It Really is the #LittleThings

By now all of you know, I’m a recovering pessimist. So, I really have to celebrate any of the little victories and surprises as much as I can. No matter how small a victory, I choose celebrate it.

I used to live in one of the craziest dorm buildings you could imagine. I know, you put 150 college guys in any building and it’ll be crazy. However, my dorm building was not only crazy, it was simply and entirely #ridiculous.

One of the more of the ridiculous phenomenons that went on in my dorm building was the vanishing garbage can. Not one of us could figure out where our garbage can went when it vanished for days at a time and then magically showed up again.

Was it the disgruntled cleaning crew? Who hated us and were trying to teach us a lesson? “I’ll show these darn kids” - “No garbage cans for you –you rats!” or was it some kid who had quite a bit of spare time on his hands? — Yes, you’re right there is no way it wasn’t the cleaning crew.

Any way, one mundane Monday morning I crawled out of my bed and into our suite’s bathroom where my dear friend Kevin was brushing his teeth. Kevin had already woken up, run 4 miles, and conquered the world. He was not impressed with me just waking up {rightfully so}.

Kevin was the first thing I saw that morning, the second, was our garbage can! {I know contain your excitement}

Still not at my best at 7:30 in the morning I froze took a minute to fully understand the sight I was seeing then exclaimed: “Kevin! The garbage can is BACK! Things are REALLY looking up!”

Kevin looked at me and said, “Yes Phil… I suppose things really are looking up?” Kevin then moved on with his day and did incredible things. However, I spent most of my day in our dorm appreciating everything I could about our garbage can before it vanished yet again.

Most people wouldn’t really be bothered by a vanishing garbage can and then celebrate it’s return. Then again, we’ve established I’m not like most people, I’m pretty #ridiculous.

{update: the garbage can wasn’t seen for the next two weeks, but then was returned for the remainder of the semester.}

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We at Garbage City are so happy to hear this empathy towards the Cans

What if like you were hatin on garbage cans for being so stinky and then the next day you woke up and you were a garbage can and you had to go through a day of being a garbage can and having everyone hate you because you were stinky and then when you woke up as a person, you spent the next entire day apogizing to all the garbage cans

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We at Garbage City applaud civic engagement. Get the Cans you need, Chicago!

A Letter About a Garbage Can

This letter ended up being responsible for the garbage can (and lack of litter) just south of Illinois National Guard building in Humboldt Park, where the path to the park meets with the eastern sidewalk of Kedzie Ave. Thanks to Alderman Maldonado for listening and taking quick action.

Alderman Maldonado:

I recently moved to Humboldt Park after four years in Logan Square and two in Roscoe Village, and I have to say that I am in love. After moving in to my building on the corner of Kedzie and North, I was immediately shocked not only by the beauty of the park—the way the sun casts long, westerly shadows over the dewy grass in the early morning hours; the way the downtown skyline is painted crisply across the eastern horizon on clear days; the purplish color that envelopes the lagoon in the evening hours, when the geese step gingerly into the water as joggers patter by and fishermen pack up their tackle boxes for the night—but also by the unmistakable sense of community found on all sides of the park.

I came to this neighborhood fully aware that I was inserting myself into a very tight-knit community with an unbreakable bond to a proud past, and I had every intention to act appropriately, and afford everyone I met only the utmost respect and civility. To be quite honest, I planned on becoming invisible. But the thing is, I have not once felt unwelcomed or out of place here. Literally everyone I pass on my daily walks now knows the name of my dog, though Willie and I have only been in the neighborhood for little more than a few weeks. We cross Kedzie every morning past the Illinois National Guard building, across Luis Munoz Marin Drive, past the northernmost baseball diamonds, across the Humboldt Boulevard bridge and past the boathouse, through the wide open southeastern fields, past the seasonal food trucks, the Home monument, and out onto California. We walk down past the Citgo, the Dunkin’ Donuts, Bullhead Cantina, The Flying Saucer, Adams & Sons Gardens, the Monarch Community Gardens, The Yellow Book, The California Clipper, Knockbox Café, and everything in between. We receive no less than two dozen friendly waves and hellos along the way. And that’s the honest truth.

Humboldt Park, as you more than likely realize, often gets a bad rap among other north side communities. That bad rap may be based on hard crime statistics and a noticeable police presence, sure, but I think it stems more so from a thinly-veiled racism and fear of the unknown (as most things do). But that is not for me to discuss here. The only remotely shady thing I have seen take place in the park so far was some crude behavior by a gaggle of teenage boys, and we all know that teenage boys—when gathered in herds devoid of any sort of authority figure—can be assholes no matter where you are or who you are dealing with. But I am simply saying that I am shocked at just how kind and communal everyone in your ward has been to my dog and I thus far, from the Puerto Rican families picnicking on the park slopes, to the white 20-somethings riding their bikes home from work with groceries tucked under their arms, to the proud parents watching their kids play in their first little league games, to the old man in my building who sits in his apartment and drinks tall boys all afternoon, then dons his crisp-billed Kangol hat and walks out into the park with a garbage bag to pick up litter.

Which finally brings me to the point of this letter. Compared to the first time I walked through Humboldt Park some eight years ago, the litter problem has improved by leaps and bounds. There are far more garbage cans and recycling bins, and far less Styrofoam cups and McDonalds bags floating in the lagoon. This is an amazing, amazing accomplishment for which you and your community most definitely deserve to be applauded. However, due possibly to westerly winds and the fact that the massive concrete Illinois National Guard building serves as a sort of barrier that keeps that wind from sweeping across North Avenue towards Albany and beyond, the most litter I see in the park on a daily basis can be found swirling around in little garbage cyclones right there on the tiny plot of land just south of Illinois National Guard building, where the path to the park meets with the eastern sidewalk of Kedzie Ave.

If it would be possible to get one more garbage can right there at that very spot, the collection of litter done by myself and my fellow Kedzie and North residents on a daily basis would be a far easier task. I am aware that there is a garbage can just east of that spot, where the path to the park meets Luis Munoz Marin Drive, but you and I know that there are a lot of people in this world who won’t walk two steps out of their way to throw something in the trash, let alone a hundred yards.

Anyway, thanks for listening. You do good things, sir, and I’m sure you will continue to do so on into the future.

Have a good summer.

Sincerely,

Dan Duffy

26th Ward Resident

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We at Garbage City LOVE this classic Grouch Style Can.

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Perfect example of the amount of garbage not suited for either the Rectangular Blistered Can or Egg Shaped Foot Pedal Can.

This college student’s mom is seriously brilliant. After her son didn’t take out the trash, she mailed it to him at college

When Connor was home in Maryland for winter break, his mom Terri assigned him a few chores. But things didn’t go quite as planned.

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Thank you Trash Wheel! We at Garbage City think you are a functional and adorable design. Keep up the great work Baltimore!

Since 2014, googly-eyed garbage gobbler Mr. Trash Wheel has collected 1.14 million tons of Garbage in Baltimore’s Inner Harbor. Thanks Mr. Trash Wheel!

follow @the-future-now

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TORONTO ON, CANADA EGG SHAPED FOOT PEDAL CAN

Soft. Fluid. Ample with unnecessary caverns of unusable space. This is the Egg Shaped Foot Pedal Can. This Can thought of everything. The Can’s desperate enthusiasm to be not just seen, but ‘known’ is impossible to ignore. We approach the Can’s concrete welcome mat and see the same configuration of Garbage Holes we first saw in the Can’s brother Can, the Rectangular Blistered Can. With two Recycle Holes this Can is screaming 'Seriously I LOVE the environment. It’s, like one of my passions’. Unlike the brother Can, the Rectangular Blistered Can, the Egg Shaped Foot Pedal Can Garbage Holes confront us, closed. Sealed entrance points requiring a hidden key. It seems to take an interest in the possibility of recycling my Now Magazine now covered in burrito sauce. We minimize the space between us to inject soggy paper into Recycle Hole One. Or Two. The flap, a dedicated gatekeeper, flaps back towards the intruding paper with such force it leaves the User showered in Recycle Hole Garbage Water and burrito sauce. We are sticky but we are still intrigued. We fold the paper. Making it a compact bomb ready to blow open the gates that obstruct it from the final darkness. The flap flaps again with petulance of a angry child. We stand with the Can. Lightly drizzled with a picante film. We are defeated. The Can has won. We rest our hand on the arch of the Can’s dome and take a lean. Suddenly, glistening in the sunlight, we see an invitation embossed in metal. 'Press’. Our feet tingle and our hearts begin to race. We stomp on the Press with unbridled enthusiasm. The sound of mechanism. The absence of movement. The Litter flap opens wide and says 'hello’. Recycle Flap One and Two remain sealed mid bite of a burrito flavoured free magazine.

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Bad Cans

Around 2007 or so Toronto Ontario Canada received brand new Garbage Cans city wide and they have been a scar on the landscape of that fair city ever since. Impractically designed. Ugly. Lacking any respect for classical form. Awkward, they stand on the curb trying to fit in and at the same time look ‘cool’ to passersby. We must pity these Cans.

Garbage City believes we must also look to Cans beyond our neighbourhoods. Cans of the world. Cans that perform their function without needing to employ the language spoken around them. Cans that take in their surroundings and compliment them without making it all about the Cans. Cans that stand proudly in a spot where they are required. Cans that don’t need maintenance to continue to perform. Strong Cans. Simple Cans. The Cans of the world and Cans of our lives.

Garbage City believes in an open and constant discussion and evaluation of the structures and forms we are forced to interact with in an urban or rural setting on a daily basis. We believe in critique. We, Garbage City, want to hear you. We encourage you to share your experiences with these forms. We welcome all healthy discourse and respect everyone’s lived experiences.

We are all Garbage City