"Portabella!"

"Hello.  I'm Bellea.  I share my home with my people: my Mom and Dad and my two sisters.  I have pets at home too:  two cats, lots of rats, fish, and a yard full of chickens and ducks.  Today I stayed with Grandpa Joe,  just him and me, while my people were out.   He says that my sisters and I are the only ones who can stay at his house, and that my pets have to stay home.  I think he realizes how difficult life is for me at home.  I share my Mom, my Dad, my house, my yard and my food.  He treats me like a princess!  He gave me my favorite grainless salmon and pea food, some fresh water, and lots of huggins and lovins.  He took me outside and sympathetically cried 'Poor da Bellea' while he pet me.  I squealed with joy and excitement.  He's cool alright, but he's not my Mom, Dad or sisters.  I'm sitting here patiently waiting.  Sigh, love ya Grandpa Joe, but please, just bring my own people back!"

City Hall From the Bridge

I've often talked about and still think about Philadelphia's City Hall.  When I learned about it in school, there was a fond connection between our lesson and my childhood Sundays which were filled with trips to South Philadelphia to visit my grandparents and Aunt Rose.  The most impressionable part of the trip into the city was crossing what was then called the Penrose Avenue Bridge, and is now called the George Platt Bridge.   We drove into the city in the afternoon, and the travelling time was passed counting 1959 Chevys and waiting for the end of the bridge, where a hungry car crusher waited for the next gulp of metal. I looked and prayed that no '59's were waiting in the wings to be the next morsel.  City Hall could be seen from all points on the Bridge, and I watched in awe as the perspective of the building changed with every glance.

Vintage photo of the Philadelphia Car Crusher

All the loved ones had been visited and it was time to go home. Things looked different.  Darkness brought a whole new look to the Bridge. A glance at the area of the car crusher proved unsatisfying, as it was invisible in the night. The flames of the refinery torches, dulled by the sun in the daytime, now marked the midpoint of the journey.  The '59's were difficult and tiresome for a tyke to spot at that hour.  Near the excursion's close was the drive-in theater with moving images filling the mammoth screen. I often wondered as a young boy if I'd see any kid movies on the screen. Alas, beauties whose names I didn't know graced the picture.  I'd have preferred Bugs Bunny.  The constant in the beginning, middle, and end of the Bridge's stretch was Philadelphia's City Hall.  In the evening, it was an unmistakable tower of light.  It fascinated me how, when I wasn't looking at the movie screen, the refinery torch, or the dwindling number of '59's, I could always count on City Hall to fill in the gaps from anywhere on the bridge.  It was the tallest of Philadelphia's skyscrapers, and had no competition in the skyline's view.  

Philadelphia's City Hall taken with my flip phone, April 27th, 2014

A trip across the Bridge in these times might be yet another melancholy reminder of the quickly passing time and times:  for there are no drive-ins to see, no '59's, and our monument is now encircled by monster structures that conceal its beauty from today's young people who cross in their parents' care. Perhaps years from now, they will remember different landmarks of their outings, or perhaps the only connection they will make while on a Sunday excursion in the car will be to that level on that game on that portable device they admired during their journey.....