“Looking for The Love”, Philadelphia Part One
America’s original capital city, Philadelphia, seems to have fallen off the main stage but it is still the fifth largest city in the US with more than five million residents. Despite the name of a recent sitcom (“It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia”, you can find it on Canadian Netflix), I would say that it rains every single day in Philadelphia. I should perhaps disclose that my observations made from under an umbrella were conducted over the course of two days. So, there is a slight chance that the weather may differ from when I was there but that is how I will remember it.
Philly first hit my radar for places I must visit when I discovered that it was the “City of Brotherly Love”. Doesn’t that sound just lovely. I imagine guys walking arm in arm, sitting outdoors at street-side cafes calling each other “brotha” as they share the love. The locals must really affectionate with each other to earn such a title. Perhaps the term, “bromance” comes from here too. Will Smith was born here; he seems like a warm, loving guy, doesn’t he. Kevin Bacon too. Aren’t we all supposed to be somehow associated with Kevin Bacon by six degrees? That’s a warm and connective thought, isn’t it. Fits right in to my new life philosophy that connecting with others is perhaps the most important thing.
Imagine my shock on discovering that “brotherly love” was not readily apparent on the streets when I first wandered out of my hotel in search of dinner in torrential downpour that first evening. I was a little disappointed when no one had offered me as much as a hug while I was checking-in to the artsy Hotel Monaco. Then on the streets, passing the soaking people slogging their ways home after work, not as much as a friendly smile to acknowledge my arrival to their loving city. What was more, I was not even called “brother” that first night, not even one time. I was horrified.
Turns out, the city did not earn the reputation of being a city of brotherly love in recent years, nor is it actually a reputation. It stems from the city’s conception by founding father, William Penn, who must have been a pretty loving guy himself. It was his vision to create a place where everyone would just get along. He envisioned that people from different places and backgrounds could live together in peace and harmony. I guess equality of the sexes had not come together for him yet though, or he simply recognised that most of the problems were coming from the guys anyway. Women are always more accepting and loving towards other women when compared to men. Except when they’re not. So it was he found his male-focused inspiration from the Greek, philos adelphos. Always a fun place to go with words when you want to sound smart; it gives you that little extra edge on profundity too. Literally it means, “loving brothers”. Well, the loving brothers probably didn’t want to live somewhere that sounded as precious as philos adelphos so it was anglicised to the handsome name of Philadelphia. Another name Bill can take credit for is the state of Pennsylvania. Which is his surname plus “sylvania” (Latin for “forest land”) so literally, “Penn’s woods”. So, that name is a tiny bit more self-focused I can’t help but notice.
There were other fun reasons to visit the “cradle of liberty” anyway. Mustard was first produced here in 1768 by Benjamin Jackson. I like mustard. Was it invented here or was that just when the first person recorded making it in this location; people like to record all sorts of silly things. Someday I’ll have a fact checker who enjoys looking into such exciting matters, for now just know that I do not promise that any of the facts presented here are definitely true, but I did not make them up either. (Okay, Siri says the Romans had mustard, so I’m not sure what exactly this claim is about. I think that Siri might also be using the internet for her information too though.) Anyway, do they love mustard so very much that they aknowledge simply when someone first made it here? And how do they really know he was the first person here to do so? Do they know when someone was the first here to make jam too? How about strawberry pie? Might one happen upon a plaque somewhere indicating that within this home was where the first person in Philadelphia who practiced Japanese flower arranging lived? How far do such commemorations go? I wonder if there is anything I could do here to become the first to have done it here.
Another exciting first came soon after in 1775 when Johann Behrent completed the first piano (then called piano forte) built in the US. In fact, Philadelphia had a lot of firsts. The first commercial radio broadcast (KDKA). The first zoo in the US (founded by Benjamin Franklin). The first bank on US soil. The first US stock exchange (1790). America’s first daily newspaper. (Although short-lived, 1784-1790.) The first “Rocky” film in 1976. And then the second. And the third.
My first evening I enjoyed a meal at a little pub where I did enjoy some brotherly chat with the bartenders. They were enjoying a two-to-one customer-bartender ratio so could hardly avoid interacting with the four of us sitting in front of them at the counter. Even if they had wanted to. I was not walking away without my brotherly love. Well, with one of the bartenders I suppose it was sisterly, or half sisterly-half brotherly since she would have been like the loving sister chatting with me her loving and very interesting and dare I say charming, brother.
The next day I burst outside, again finding the rain a little off-putting for sight-seeing. Off-putting in that subtle way that I did not want to go outside and had to force myself. I wandered past the liberty bell, the infamous instrument that cracked on it’s first ringing. Online there is some dispute as to whether Pennsylvania was misspelled as Pensylvania or whether both spellings were at the time commonly in use. I should think Penn would have always wanted the second, silent “n” to be included for higher name recognition, even if it were a redundant letter when it came to pronunciation. Later I will visit Allentown, where I discover that the broken/cracked bell was escorted to protect from it the British. I guess the British must have really liked big, cracked bells. I must ask them about it next time I’m there as it’s one of my favourite countries to visit. A conversation starter, “Do you people still like to acquire large, cracked bells?” So high was it’s value, it was escorted back to Philadelphia by a caravan of seven hundred wagons. I read that online, so it must be true. But that sounds astoundingly absurd to me. One damaged bell. Seven hundred means of transport. Overkill or prudence? One shouldn’t judge.
I discover another first on my wanderings, this one technological.
TO BE CONTINUED
STAY TUNED – TO BE CONTINUED