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Ma's avatar

I moved to Philly in 1987. Yeah, that 1987. My apartment wasn’t ready, advance setting up of utilities was a joke, it was a heat wave or tornadic rains, had to get a flea bag hotel in NJ and pay toll with no means of buying cash since I had no local bank account, some little girl couldn’t see over her daddy pimp Mobile and she hit my terdcel on the B. Franklin parkway or maybe the jfk boulevard. I loved philly and my apartment and the bagels on the weekend in a bag at the tiny convenience store caddy cornered to my west philly apartment where you’d hear gun shots at night and newscasts the next day with the story. For the constitution signing events, I saw fireworks on Eakins oval across from the art museum near the schuylkill (sure kill) river. Saw “the thinker” pondering life on the lawn of the Rodin museum - his naked body must have been cold in the winter. Ran up the steps of the museum long before any rocky statue inspired us. Took the train at 30th st station everywhere - just show up, look at the clacker schedule sign and buy your ticket on board. Food trucks near UPenn, lunch on the hill in the spring, midnight coronary artery greasy food breakfasts when on call, river fire works from the Founder’s bldg top floor, Longwood gardens, golfing in the suburbs. I guess I have to live until 2037 to make the next semiquincentenniel. Perhaps it will be easier than the bicentennial, but I doubt it because I’ll be 80, if I make it. Happy 250, America. I hope we get through this.

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