Downtown Philadelphia
The first thing I notice about the streets of Philadelphia are the street food vendors. Walking the streets is a trip through drifting smells of hot dogs and hamburgers and the every present Philly cheese steak. As I venture further, I pass a man who reminds me of the heath food customer joke – his clothes loose and hanging, his beard unkept, his eyes vacant and focused forward. He reminds me of someone who is constantly ill. He is, ironically, carrying a sack from Wholefoods, a health food mart.
There are endless differences in the people I pass. A college age girl carrying a sheet of mounting board, the heavy cardboard used for displays and mounting pictures catches my eye. I notice because I find it interesting how in the mist of the emotionally monochromatic city, exist little symbols of art and culture. As my trek continues I find a flock of girls, each carrying a board. It is too much and I have to ask; they are nursing students and the boards are for an honors presentation at the Benjamin Franklin House. I notice two women in scrubs walking on the other side of the street, mirroring the two nursing students on my side of the street.
As you walk the streets you find the traffic lights seem to be timed, not to the traffic, but to pedestrians, an observation made into an impromptu fact by one of the residents of the city. If you pace yourself you can walk block, to block, to block, without having to wait for the lights to change. This sense of privilege is somewhat altered when one steps off the curb, only to realize the delivery “boys” on bikes seem to overlook the stoplights. Good safety tip: not only be aware of one-way streets, but also look for those overzealous emulators of the Roman god Mercury.
When you walk the streets and watch the people, you notice most stare straight ahead, seemingly to keep within their own world. Yet, every once in a while, a persons face lights up and pauses to say “hello” to someone they recognize. They are oblivious to all until their peripheral vision catches a familiar shape coming the other direction.
In a Starbucks, I wait for my drink and I notice a note on the stores public bulletin board. It’s a call to those who suffer from Migraine headaches. I find it interesting to ask for volunteers, suffering from Migraines, at a coffee shop. As a researcher, how do you know if the persons’ Migraine is induced from too much or too little coffee, or one of the other uncounted causes of a Migraine? I can see the notes: Patients headache lessened considerably once the medicine has been consumed. Medicine: One pill - drank with coffee.
And since I am being cynical, I might as well add the conversation I had with my coworker while walking the section of Chestnut Street that has the long line of plaques embedded in the concrete, listing the signers of the constitution. As we read the titles/professions of the men, we questioned the difference between the Statesmen, and the Politician. We came to the conclusion that the Politician would take the bribe and say he will do what briber wants, while the Statesmen will actually do it – its all about ethics. Although I had to laugh at Webster’s definition of a Politician: a person primarily interested in political office for selfish or other narrow usually short-sighted reasons.
As I head back to the office after taking a lunchtime walk, I pass a man dressed in Colonial garb, he is one of the actors helping tell the story at Independence Hall. I see him standing beside a building eating lunch, probably purchased from a street vendor. I chuckle thinking how he is dressed for the seventeen hundreds, yet eating from a small plastic covered aluminum pan. Then it occurred to me, that 230+ years ago a man could have been standing in the same spot, near the same building, eating his lunch from a small tin plate. Do things really change?
I reach the building housing the office and I step into an empty elevator and smile at the subtle dissolving remnant of a previous riders perfume. If her perfume choice matches her personality, she is a person to behold.
It’s the end of the day and my coworker and I head out for dinner, traversing one block then another. We choose an outdoor café, and sit at the last available table. We are close to the street, close enough that I can almost touch the city buses as they pass. There is a trumpet player across the street and I walk over to him, give him a $5 bill and ask that he play his favorite song. He questions my request, and I explain that I want to hear his passion. I return to my chair, and amid the traffic, conversations, footsteps, dishes, and an occasional dog barking, the passionate notes refuse to be enveloped, crossing the street with ease.
Observations are made as we sit. Across one street is an advertisement – “Home of the $98 suit! Two for $190”. I did not realize such a place existed; I seemed to have missed their marketing. We notice there are two fire hydrants near us, and wonder if they both are active or is one a replacement for the other, with the city leaving the older out of respect for its age. As we discuss, the people just on the other side of us joke they feel safer since any wayward vehicle would have to pass through the two fire hydrants, and me before it gets to them. We never did figure out why there are two fire hydrants, but we did hope they would, at a minimum, give us an extra second or two. I am reminded how my Aunt would not let the kids play in the front yard of the cousins house, worried that a errant car would jump the curb and hit one of us. She must be looking down at me and shaking her finger.
We have a wonderful waitress named Alda. Alda, looks very tired, but casual questions and a thank you here and there for taking care of us and she brightens as she brings the drinks, food, and bill. She is from Bosnia, and delights in response to my question of how to say “good evening”. She explains there is nothing so formal, but the word “scami” is close. I ask her how one says good-bye, and she replies with what sound like “mira posa shin”. I think people delight when someone takes a passing interest in them, enough to ask them about themselves. Alda, spends her time at work catering to crowds of hungry people, I think there are but a few that ask her about who she is.
The evening passes, and we eat and drink, watch the traffic, and catch a glimpse of the sunset. I notice the unusual number of pregnant women in the area. Nearer the end of the meal, the traffic is having its effect and I grow tired of the rumble. Then the wind shifts a bit and someone’s perfume crosses my path. The traffic doesn’t seem so bad after all.
Big cities always retain a special place in my heart for I do love them. I have had more than one conversation with those who dislike the crowds, the traffic, and the buildings. I thought of this and wondered why I view them so differently. I answered my own question, for I do not see hoards of people, and streams of cars, I see separate entities, little pockets of energy, each carrying the emotions their lives generated. They live, laugh, and love. They are stoic while walking yet light up when they see the unexpected person on the street. Even the cars are carriers, taking these entities from one place to another, their bodies going along for the ride.
We are through eating, pay the bill and get up to leave. Alda, smiles and waves with a “mira posa shin”, I return the good-bye as best I can.
There are endless differences in the people I pass. A college age girl carrying a sheet of mounting board, the heavy cardboard used for displays and mounting pictures catches my eye. I notice because I find it interesting how in the mist of the emotionally monochromatic city, exist little symbols of art and culture. As my trek continues I find a flock of girls, each carrying a board. It is too much and I have to ask; they are nursing students and the boards are for an honors presentation at the Benjamin Franklin House. I notice two women in scrubs walking on the other side of the street, mirroring the two nursing students on my side of the street.
As you walk the streets you find the traffic lights seem to be timed, not to the traffic, but to pedestrians, an observation made into an impromptu fact by one of the residents of the city. If you pace yourself you can walk block, to block, to block, without having to wait for the lights to change. This sense of privilege is somewhat altered when one steps off the curb, only to realize the delivery “boys” on bikes seem to overlook the stoplights. Good safety tip: not only be aware of one-way streets, but also look for those overzealous emulators of the Roman god Mercury.
When you walk the streets and watch the people, you notice most stare straight ahead, seemingly to keep within their own world. Yet, every once in a while, a persons face lights up and pauses to say “hello” to someone they recognize. They are oblivious to all until their peripheral vision catches a familiar shape coming the other direction.
In a Starbucks, I wait for my drink and I notice a note on the stores public bulletin board. It’s a call to those who suffer from Migraine headaches. I find it interesting to ask for volunteers, suffering from Migraines, at a coffee shop. As a researcher, how do you know if the persons’ Migraine is induced from too much or too little coffee, or one of the other uncounted causes of a Migraine? I can see the notes: Patients headache lessened considerably once the medicine has been consumed. Medicine: One pill - drank with coffee.
And since I am being cynical, I might as well add the conversation I had with my coworker while walking the section of Chestnut Street that has the long line of plaques embedded in the concrete, listing the signers of the constitution. As we read the titles/professions of the men, we questioned the difference between the Statesmen, and the Politician. We came to the conclusion that the Politician would take the bribe and say he will do what briber wants, while the Statesmen will actually do it – its all about ethics. Although I had to laugh at Webster’s definition of a Politician: a person primarily interested in political office for selfish or other narrow usually short-sighted reasons.
As I head back to the office after taking a lunchtime walk, I pass a man dressed in Colonial garb, he is one of the actors helping tell the story at Independence Hall. I see him standing beside a building eating lunch, probably purchased from a street vendor. I chuckle thinking how he is dressed for the seventeen hundreds, yet eating from a small plastic covered aluminum pan. Then it occurred to me, that 230+ years ago a man could have been standing in the same spot, near the same building, eating his lunch from a small tin plate. Do things really change?
I reach the building housing the office and I step into an empty elevator and smile at the subtle dissolving remnant of a previous riders perfume. If her perfume choice matches her personality, she is a person to behold.
It’s the end of the day and my coworker and I head out for dinner, traversing one block then another. We choose an outdoor café, and sit at the last available table. We are close to the street, close enough that I can almost touch the city buses as they pass. There is a trumpet player across the street and I walk over to him, give him a $5 bill and ask that he play his favorite song. He questions my request, and I explain that I want to hear his passion. I return to my chair, and amid the traffic, conversations, footsteps, dishes, and an occasional dog barking, the passionate notes refuse to be enveloped, crossing the street with ease.
Observations are made as we sit. Across one street is an advertisement – “Home of the $98 suit! Two for $190”. I did not realize such a place existed; I seemed to have missed their marketing. We notice there are two fire hydrants near us, and wonder if they both are active or is one a replacement for the other, with the city leaving the older out of respect for its age. As we discuss, the people just on the other side of us joke they feel safer since any wayward vehicle would have to pass through the two fire hydrants, and me before it gets to them. We never did figure out why there are two fire hydrants, but we did hope they would, at a minimum, give us an extra second or two. I am reminded how my Aunt would not let the kids play in the front yard of the cousins house, worried that a errant car would jump the curb and hit one of us. She must be looking down at me and shaking her finger.
We have a wonderful waitress named Alda. Alda, looks very tired, but casual questions and a thank you here and there for taking care of us and she brightens as she brings the drinks, food, and bill. She is from Bosnia, and delights in response to my question of how to say “good evening”. She explains there is nothing so formal, but the word “scami” is close. I ask her how one says good-bye, and she replies with what sound like “mira posa shin”. I think people delight when someone takes a passing interest in them, enough to ask them about themselves. Alda, spends her time at work catering to crowds of hungry people, I think there are but a few that ask her about who she is.
The evening passes, and we eat and drink, watch the traffic, and catch a glimpse of the sunset. I notice the unusual number of pregnant women in the area. Nearer the end of the meal, the traffic is having its effect and I grow tired of the rumble. Then the wind shifts a bit and someone’s perfume crosses my path. The traffic doesn’t seem so bad after all.
Big cities always retain a special place in my heart for I do love them. I have had more than one conversation with those who dislike the crowds, the traffic, and the buildings. I thought of this and wondered why I view them so differently. I answered my own question, for I do not see hoards of people, and streams of cars, I see separate entities, little pockets of energy, each carrying the emotions their lives generated. They live, laugh, and love. They are stoic while walking yet light up when they see the unexpected person on the street. Even the cars are carriers, taking these entities from one place to another, their bodies going along for the ride.
We are through eating, pay the bill and get up to leave. Alda, smiles and waves with a “mira posa shin”, I return the good-bye as best I can.
posted by G. Steven Nolte at 9:18 PM
1 Comments:
We should all take the time to really notice our world like you do. The people, the sights,the sounds, the smells are all a part of our world and a gift for our senses. Indeed you have discovered and appreciate these gifts which few often do.
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