All Roads Lead to Broad Street
To Philadelphia, My City of Sisterly Love
I never intended to like Philadelphia.
The city first came into my awareness when I was a college student. I found myself surrounded by friends who enjoyed Tasty Kakes and drank a lot of wudder and called Philadelphia home, with an elongated “O,” in the way they only do in the Philadelphia, just outside of Philadelphia (including parts of New Jersey), and Baltimore areas.
What was the obsession with Philadelphia? I wondered to myself, in awe of the emotional vigor that accompanied the Phillies win in October 2008, my first exposure to the strength and passion of Philadelphia fans. I stood, mouth agape, in my New York Yankees hat, a rare sight of blue, in a sea of Philadelphia red.
The college years went by, and I became increasingly aware of Philadelphia, and even, at times, resentful. I bashed the city, putting it down, as if New York and Philadelphia could not exist at the same time.
After college, I gained even more exposure to Philadelphia through an annual tradition amongst my college pals: Friendsmas. We gathered each year to catch up on life, celebrate, and be together. I made an effort to leave whatever city I was living in at the time, taking trains, planes, and automobiles to arrive in Philadelphia from Washington D.C., Los Angeles, and New York.
My visits picked up, stopping over for weddings and work trips and races, and each time, I discovered something new. I found myself ambling around Rittenhouse Square, not only mulling about the farmer’s market, but also allowing the city’s revolutionary history to sink in. In tandem with watching Turn, a television series about George Washington’s spies, I could practically hear the clack of Revolutionary War figures Benjamin Tallmadge, John André, and Caleb Brewsters’ boots against the cobblestone streets.
The armor I’d built around my heart to combat the Philadelphia pride slowly began to deteriorate, taking my resistance with it.
Philadelphia, much to my ego’s chagrin, had become a safe place to land.
In Defense of Philadelphia
It happened slowly, with the spontaneous arrival of the thought, maybe Philadelphia isn’t so bad. My friends were shocked. First you like the color purple, and now THIS?!
This same phenomenon of having negative feelings about a city, and witnessing them shift, had happened when I lived in Los Angeles. I began to claim my change of mind, coming to the city’s defense, unleashing the same ferocity I’d had as a big sister protecting her little brother.
There’s a great food scene and a river path that I don’t know how to pronounce and adorable cobblestone streets and now gingko trees that tower above even the tallest row homes. There’s hole-in-the-wall Italian joints that reek of garlic in the absolute best way and dive bars with names I can’t remember and multi-colored townhomes overflowing with floating planters and charm.
But there’s crime and what about the job market and is it even safe?, the peanut gallery cries.
Those things are all true. And, even with its quirks, it was hard not to fall in love.
Philly grew on me so much that a few years ago, I even contemplated moving there.
I looked at an apartment building in Center City and imagined beginning my life again. I didn’t end up moving to Philly, but the consideration of it gave me something greater: hope.
Philadelphia became a beacon of the possibility to rebuild after wreckage.
Returning to My City of Sisterly Love
I visited Philly for the first time in two or so years in early May to run the Broad Street Race with a few college girlfriends, and what I noticed was this:
People are friendly and say thank you and good morning and maybe it’s just my friends but the warmth is palpable, and not just from the bodies squeezed like sardines boarding the metro at the Walnut-Locust stop. I’m fed copious amounts of penne alla vodka and thick fried meatballs (Sorry, Mom) and trail mix abounding with chocolate chips and mini m&ms and regular Chex, and of course the most essential ingredient: love.
Even I cannot refute, that Philadelphia has an undeniable feeling of home.
So here’s to the City of Sisterly Love, a place that has always welcomed me, even when I’ve resisted. A place that has waited patiently for me to come around, unabashedly smothering me with affection, and stayed long enough for me to see her as she is: A city with equal parts quirk and charm.
Maybe her and I aren’t so different, after all.
In loving,
Grace