Not everything that happens in South Philly counts as horror-fest material. I want to dissuade you of that notion. Sure, it has its moments, but there are some good things that should be noted. (These happen to affect the ears, eyes and nose.)
For instance, I realized this past week that SEPTA has now replaced nearly all of its buses with hybrids. They are so quiet! It's almost like you don't notice them anymore. It used to be that you couldn't help but notice them, what with the engine noise and diesel smoke belching from the back. Now it's just a smooth, gentle behemoth gliding block to block. So thanks, SEPTA. Money well spent.
I was running through FDR Park this morning and saw one of the ball fields being cut. In and of itself that's pretty unremarkable, but I have some historical perspective here. I used to go to the Spectrum for concerts almost weekly in high school (mid- to late-70's time frame) and FDR was a bombed-out, weed-stricken wasteland. Now it's not. Anyway, the ball fields are in really nice shape, and this particular groundskeeper was doing a second pass, on the bias. It makes for a more uniformly smooth surface to play on, and it looks darned good, too. More importantly, I think, is the dedication of the person cutting that grass. It's time-consuming to do it right, but there he was, paying attention to detail for the benefit of all of us. So thanks, Parks and Rec. Time well spent.
On the food front, you may or may not know that I am a vegetarian. Not a militant one, and too enamored of ice cream to become a vegan, but I don't eat meat anymore. For no particular reason. It just kind of happened. I do not mind the smell of grilling meat, though. (Except that really humid morning I ran through the tailgater smoke at Citizens Bank Park and nearly lost it.) And there are two spots on my commute that stand out.
First, Nick's Charcoal Pit at 13th and Snyder. It smells of quality charcoal and animal fat when I go by any time after about 11 in the morning. Simple, succulent. Second, Nick's Old Original at 20th and Jackson. When I was a kid growing up in a 200-year old farmhouse in Valley Forge, Saturday meant a trip to the lumber yard for one project or another, and on more than a few occasions lunch at the Beef and Ale in Berwyn. My dad invariably had a glass of Rolling Rock draft and I had a soda. It went perfectly with the hot roast beef sandwich. What a heavenly smell and taste. The block downwind of Nick's smells just like that every day but Sunday. So thanks, you guys named Nick. Aromas well vented.
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