COLUMN: Demystifying Philadelphia

From Andrew Exum's, "Perilous Orthodoxy," Fall '98 From Andrew Exum's, "Perilous Orthodoxy," Fall '98In Walker Percy's novel The Moviegoer, the narrator explains at one point in the story that "nobody but a Southerner knows the wrenching rinsing sadness of the cities of the North." Still, as I climb into my truck in the picturesque Smoky Mountains of Tennessee in the morning loaded with stuff for school and end my day of travel driving through industrial Southwest Philadelphia on I-76, I can't help but think that Percy may have had a point. To a person who grew up in the city, Philadelphia might seem to be a wonderful place, full of life and atmosphere. To a kid who did most of his growing up on a farm in Sale Creek, Tenn., however, the city at first glance appears dreary and artificial. My first year at Penn, I openly wondered how many of Penn's students wandered outside the confines of Northeast urbana into the natural world. It seemed to me that Penn and much of the general metropolitan population were victims of what naturalist Annie Dillard describes as "some unwonted, taught pride [that] diverts us from our original intent, which is to explore the neighborhood, view the landscape, to discover at least where it is that we have been so startlingly set down." It was unthinkable to me that there were those who had never parked the car and walked into the mountains, never veered off the metropolitan sidewalk into parts unknown, and had never been able to look around in their surroundings and see nothing but wilderness. To tell the truth, I carried this contempt with me for much of my freshmen and sophomore years. I missed being able to walk out my backdoor and hike a mile to some cliffs to spend the afternoon rockclimbing. I missed being able to hop into a kayak and paddle a cold mountain river. Mostly, though, I just missed my Appalachian home. A funny thing happened last year, however. Easter weekend, my mother came up from Tennessee to visit. Having never really visited Philadelphia, she wanted to spend the Saturday walking around Center City. Starting from her hotel on Ben Franklin Parkway, we made our way over to Walnut and down to Broad. From there, we hiked to South Street and walked in and out of over a dozen shops. Grabbing a few cheesesteaks for lunch, we then took off through Washington Square for Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell. In the late afternoon, we hiked to Antique Row and past my church. From there, we toured some more shops and then called it a day. All in all, I think we walked something like 6 miles. And as we walked, the city came alive. It's one thing to circle the city on I-76 and I-95, but if you really want to feel Philadelphia, slip on your boots and start walking. You'll see everything. From the people on the sidewalk to the wares being sold in the stores, the city is at its best when experienced up close. Like the mountains when viewed from afar, Philadelphia can be intimidating. Once you take the time to walk around and grow more familiar with the surroundings, though, it loses its harsh edge. As students, we're only part-time residents. Rarely do we take the time to embrace the city. If we just live in the small boundaries of University City, however, we really can't take advantages of all the wonder the city has to offer. In 1963, another young Southerner came North to the city. Willie Morris, born and raised in Yazoo City, Mississippi, was about to be named the youngest editor-in-chief in the history of Harper's, America's oldest magazine. Years later, Morris would record his memoirs in the book New York Days. On the city, he simply but elegantly underlines what a difference it made in his journey. He wrote: "I came to the city, and it changed my life." I think that I can already begin to say that about Philadelphia.