So I went to a thing this weekend. We weren’t supposed to take photos or post about it, but it wasn’t exactly clandestine either—the halls of this hotel were awash in reds, blacks, and olive green, the unofficial tricolor of this insurgent generation.
There’s a lot that I love about the people I’ve come to know through this organization, and a lot that I don’t click with, but that’s fine. These people are big on maximal clarity, which is refreshing in this culture; agreeing to disagree might actually mean something here. So I wasn’t surprised by how impressed I was with the quality of the political discourse; I’ve come to know and appreciate the sharpness of their analyses. I wasn’t even surprised to see firsthand how seriously these young people see and undertake what they understand as their historic task; I’ve come to know and appreciate just how committed these people are to their ideas. What I didn’t expect, though, was leaving here with a sense of friendship—my ideological particularities made it difficult to fully be myself during my time with this org, and yet, warm bonds of camaraderie and even affection did form. That surprises me and gives me hope.
This weekend was something of a swan song for me as I’d already decided that the level of commitment required to take part wasn’t something I could give. But it’s not the end. I want to keep supporting these folks with my dues, attention, and occasional participation, because they’re the real deal. And that also gives me hope even when we don’t see eye to eye.
Due to photo restrictions at the thing, I decided to only bring a film camera with me, which I’ve been shooting around the city. Here are some iPhone captures in the interregnum.
It only occurred to me the morning of my flight that I didn’t really have much planned for my time in Philly—a lot has been on my mind and this trip snuck up on me. So after some furious googling, I decided that this Pennsylvania Dutch establishment would be my first destination upon arrival.
I asked the young waitress if it would be incredibly rude if I asked for her photo and she said she’d rather not pose, but was fine with photos while she worked. I didn’t ask her if this was because vanity is a sin.
This was another one of those “what am I going to do until check-in time” finds the morning of my flight. I’ve seen this place featured on art and culture shows but didn’t realize it was in Philly nor remembered much about it, but, lucky for me, a bicycle tour stopped right in front of it as I was waiting for my Lyft back and I gleaned enough history to understand that this place was ultimately the product of plans for a Hausmannian highway that never materialized here (but did end up slicing through Chinatown).