And then there's Philly

It may be across the bridge, in another state, but Philly belongs to South Jersey too. Years and years ago my mom used to say, "We're going downtown." For a while it was, "Let's go to the city." And then it became, and still is, "...to Philly." Where Market Street and Broad Street meet, City Hall spreads and looms. On top, Billy Penn keeps watch over the city. Never William, always Billy. I remember when it was Billy Penn you saw against the sky from all directions. No building could rise higher than him. That changed and the skyline is impressive, but it's nice to spot Billy tucked in among the towering buildings around him. A few days ago I drove around in Philly. Past the Warwick Hotel where Eric worked for the Carpenters' Union. Around Rittenhouse Square close by, noticing the Dorchester Hotel and remembering Eric talking about moving Mrs. Frankel there. Across 17th and Spruce where Tenth Pres. brings back memories. Down Pine Street whose stores and apartments take us back to another era. Along Market Street which has changed so much. Market Street held so many wonderful memories of the Christmas season when I was a child. Just walking into Strawbridges then and seeing the beautiful decorations all over the first floor-- trees, lights,holly and berries, greens. Was the Colonial Village set up in Strawbridges or was it in Lits? What fun to follow the little white fence around the houses and shops and see the animated people and animals. The little cat looking out an upstairs window. The blacksmith with rosy cheeks and apron. Children ice skating. The hat store, the toy store. It was all rather magical. Around the ceiling of the toy department in Wanamakers was a mono-rail train we could ride and look down on all those dolls and games. Christmas wasn't Christmas without visiting the Tree of Lights in Wanamaker's Court. I liked it best way back then before any of the animated lights on the huge curtain. When it was just the tree with a million lights and water fountains in front. Colored lights and water moved with the organ music. Beautiful, meaningful Christmas carols. The finale was always "Joy to the World". And even the littlest ones among all who were gathered throughout that court, watching and listening, knew something of the wonder and joy of Christmas. Walking in the December cold along both sides of Market Street is something I still remember. Each store -- Gimbels, Schnellenberg (something like that), Wanamakers, Strawbridges, Lits -- had marvelous window displays. Lights, snow, music, animated characters of all sorts. That was truly magical. I wish that had all still been there when my kids were little. And how the grandchildren now would love it. All a bygone era when Christmas was allowed to be Christmas and so much love and care went into making it wonderful for children. I remember, too, at all times of the year, going by bus with my mom and sister to meet my Nana at the eagle in Wanamakers. Eating lunch at Horn and Hardarts. And how, even though I don't like vegetables much, I always ordered mashed potatoes and creamed carrots. Going to the fourth floor of Strawbridges to buy new Carters underwear from the same lady (who looked old the first time) every single year. Mom buying a lollipop for each of us in Strawbridges Food Court. Thick, square lollipops of unusual flavors. I remember choosing root beer once, and licorice. In Gimbels there was a chime or a bell that rang, I think every 15 minutes. We would wait in the basement with Nana who would catch a subway from there and then one or two buses to her house in Tacony. While we waited we got a chocolate malt. In a paper cone set in a metal base to be eaten right there at the counter. I've never tasted anything quite like that since. Sometimes now, in traffic, I smell the exhaust from a bus and am taken back to waiting for the right bus to come along Market Street and take us home.