Tennessee Williams once said, “America has only three cities: New York, San Francisco, and New Orleans. Everywhere else is Cleveland.”
Sorry, Cleveland (and Chicago), but I kind of agree. Having said that, there are a few other American cities that I love -like Boston and Philadelphia. Since I just wrote about my favorite cemeteries and jail in Philadelphia, I thought I’d finish telling the story of this city of brotherly love -and sisterly affection.
The first time I flew to Philadelphia, I rented a car and drove to an Amish gathering and auction. I don’t know if you’re aware, but there are a lot of Amish living in/near Philadelphia. I’ve always found them fascinating. So after reading an article about an annual Amish auction in Lancaster County, I had to go.
At this auction, Amish people were buying and selling horses, buggies, and quilts. At the horse and buggy auctions, only Amish were present.
But at the quilt auction, all kinds of buyers and outsiders showed up. Quilts are an American art form, and Amish quilts are the gold standard. They are widely collected, coveted, and treasured.
Being young and oblivious at the time, I somehow weaseled my way into the front row. Auctions can be very dangerous for me because I get caught up in the excitement. Compounding the danger, I wasn’t just young and oblivious; I was broke. So I told myself, one quilt, and then I’d leave.
Beautiful quilt after beautiful quilt came up on the auction block. I watched, I learned, and I waited. Until one very different quilt came up. This one wasn’t like the others. This one was wild. It had a crazy, bold color palette, and no one was interested. Most of the buyers were buying for re-sale, so they wanted neutral colors and popular patterns. But I instantly fell in love with this outlier. I raised my card. There wasn’t much interest, so the auctioneer started to “sell it.” He told everyone that this one was entirely sewn by hand with a very fine stitch and that the quilter needed the money to pay for medical bills. Still, no interest. Finally, he declared, “Sold!” To the broke young lady in the front row. I felt bad about the medical bills, but I really did feel like this quilt was meant to come home with me. No one else appreciated it, and therefore no one else deserved it.
More than satisfied with my purchase, I kept my promise to myself and didn’t bid on another quilt. But I did buy a few other things from the Amish vendors: pickled vegetables, a homemade wooden toy for a friend’s daughter, an Amish doll (faceless for modesty), and this Amish girl’s bonnet.
All of us with winning bids lined up in a large hall to pay for our goods. Standing in line surrounded by Amish people, I couldn’t help but stare. The Amish are so interesting. And so closed off. You couldn’t become friends with any of them even if you wanted to. And I wanted to.
But while I made no friends, I did make a strong sensory memory. Standing in that crowded hall, I noticed that the Amish have a smell. It wasn’t an unpleasant smell, but it was distinctive and… earthy. Which makes sense. Everything they use is homemade and natural. They don’t shop at the supermarket. And they don’t use perfumed soaps or scented lotions. But it was an interesting observation. And it made me wonder… What do we smell like to them? Probably like fruit and frivolity. But who knows? I don’t have an Amish friend to ask.
While my first introduction to Philadelphia was rural, the city is just as interesting, especially if you love history. It’s the birthplace of the nation. Independence Hall is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Both the Declaration of Independence and the US Constitution were debated and signed in this building. Take the tour and see the room. It’s kind of mind-blowing.
Across the street is the Liberty Bell. I was underwhelmed, but you should see it. It’s right there.
The other historical site I recommend visiting (besides Independence Hall) is the Betsy Ross House. I love this house because when you walk in the door, you walk back in time. It’s a perfectly preserved 300-year-old house. That is worth the price of admission even if Betsy Ross hadn’t secretly sewn the first American flag there. Which she did. (An Act of Treason!)
Besides historical museums, Philadelphia has world-class art museums. I’ve never actually been inside the Philadelphia Museum of Art -made famous when Rocky jogged up its steps. I’m sure the art is spectacular. But you may prefer to just jog the steps.
The art collection I have viewed and highly recommend is in another institution: the Barnes Foundation. I hate to refer to the Barnes Foundation as a museum (but it is a museum). Dr. Barnes amassed a private, unrivaled collection of French impressionists paintings before people (even the art world) appreciated the genre. By the time everyone knew who Renoir, Van Gogh, Matisse, Cezanne, Picasso, Rousseau, Degas, Monet, Manet, Gauguin, Seurat were, it was too late. Barnes had already amassed an enormous collection. Today, valued in the tens of billions of dollars. It’s a world-class collection that he curated himself based on commonalities and aesthetics. He hung his precious paintings on the wall beside locks and other hardware. He grouped his paintings among decorative furnishings and African masks, drawing connections between similar shapes and themes in the various works. It is a very interesting and visually pleasing experience. But, alas, an experience Barnes did not intend for you to have.
The Barnes Foundation had an educational mission. His collection wasn’t intended for “commercial exploitation.” He never wanted the foundation to be a museum; he wanted it to be a school. However, the art is worth a fortune. So, The Powers That Be have found a way to violate his wishes and his will. They have moved his collection (never to be moved) to downtown Philadelphia and have opened the doors to the public. I’m sure Barnes is turning over in his grave. But for better or worse, its current location makes it easier for tourists to access this impressive collection.
On another layover, I visited a very different kind of museum: the Mutter Museum. This museum is actually quite disturbing, and I’m not exactly recommending it. You’ll have to decide for yourself if you want to see these things because you won’t be able to unsee them if you do. The Mutter Museum is a medical museum housing Dr. Mutter’s collection of medical specimens. Dr. Mutter was an educator and practitioner of medicine in the 1800s. He collected various oddities for research and educational purposes which he donated to create the museum in 1858.
When I visited, there was an exhibit of mourning art. In the 19th century, it was popular to create jewelry and art using the hair of a deceased loved one. The exhibition elicited conflicting feelings. I found it touching, beautiful, and also super morbid.
The permanent collection was no less disconcerting. The collection includes pieces of Albert Einstein’s brain. His brain was removed during his autopsy -without his family’s permission. The family later agreed to allow his brain to be studied. And surprise… experts agree that Einstein’s brain was not normal.
One of the more amusing displays is a stack of drawers containing collected objects retrieved from childrens’ noses. Nineteenth-century kids put all sorts of things up their noses: buttons, coins, jacks, safety pins…
One of the more unsettling displays in the museum is a wall of skulls. Each skull is tagged with age, sex, and reason for death. Many of the deaths were violent. Several were suicide. All unclaimed. It makes sense. Why would someone donate a loved one’s skull? It felt tragic and upsetting to look at all those “discarded” skulls.
But the most haunting “specimen” was a fetus of Siamese twins. That’s the one I can’t get out of my head. The sight made me sick. Not because they were siamese twins, but because they were someone’s babies. Someone loved those babies, and there they sat, pickled in a jar.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I walked back to my hotel unnerved and traumatized.
The museum is interesting but challenging. You’ll have to decide for yourself if you want to visit. But you’ve been warned.
Finally, I can’t blog about Philadelphia and not mention food. Lets’ face it, I can’t blog about much without mentioning food. But Philly! Home of the Philly Cheesesteak. Apparently, there’s a “beef” between Pat’s and Gino’s. Full disclosure, I have yet to eat at either establishment. Incidentally, they are located directly across the street from each other. How convenient. I need to try this someday. And so do you.
In the meantime, I can attest to the food in the Italian neighborhood delis and the food court in Reading Terminal. I’m sure you remember Reading Terminal from Monopoly. (same one) Dating back to 1893, Reading Terminal is an indoor market housed inside a National Historic Landmark. You can get anything to eat here, including cheesesteak. But my favorite is the Amish bakery. The Amish sell homemade bread, pies, and donuts. They also have big barrels of pickled vegetables. Every time I’m in Philadelphia, I have to pick up some of their sauerkraut and (my kids’ favorite) beets. Seriously, you have to try their beets. They taste like candy. Who knew vegetables could be a treat.
I’ve never shared this city with my kids, but I think Philadelphia would be a great family vacation destination. There’s so much to see and do. I haven’t even mentioned their sports teams. And don’t forget about Eastern State Penitentiary, which I blogged about in Jails. I can’t think of any kid who wouldn’t want to see that place. Even a 50-year-old kid.
20th century children also put things up their noses.
My mother told me a story about a friend of hers that she was going shopping with. When they were leaving the woman told her child, for no apparent reason, not to put beans up his nose! My mother was astonished. Why in the world would she say something like that? When they returned the babysitter for that woman’s child said he did indeed put beans up his nose.
Paula wrote a family cookbook when she was pregnant with Valentina. I still use it to this day, and so do many others in the family. She gathered recipes from family members, wrote introductions for each contributor, had family pictures on the front and back. In the introduction, Paula said her husband Jeff said if he had a dime for every time she mentioned food he would be a rich man!
The Dr. Barnes art collection looks beautiful. I would love to see that.
Although our country is young, there it has so much history to share and we are still discovering history that has not been commonly shared in the past.
The world keeps getting smaller as we discover more about ourselves and our countries and each other! I think that may be what saves us all. Education is the number one priority in my opinion. It helps to understand how we keep evolving. (That is my editorial opinion anyway.)