The Right Addytood
They'd skated at Rockefeller Center and stayed overnight in Manhattan.
By her 13th birthday, my Brooklyn niece had run out of creative
party ideas. So when I half-jokingly suggested a weekend in Philadelphia,
Rachel's eyes lit up. "Great. We'll visit the Heart at the
Franklin Institute, hang out on South Street, and eat at Johnny
Rockets. Visiting Philly is so much fun!"
Her enthusiasm momentarily brings out the Philaphile in me. "I
live in a great city, a city with a heart, 'the place that loves
you back,'" says the Philaphile.
"Yeah, sure," interrupts the Philaphobe, the guy with
the bad addytood who lives inside every native-born Philadelphian.
"We're a city with a heart, but it's in cardiac arrest. We've
got clogged arteries and we're hemorrhaging jobs. The place that
loves you back? Nah, call it the place that shoots you in the back."
"But we're on the mend," protests the Philaphile. "Look
at South Street. What was once a rundown commercial district is
now an eclectic gathering place. And Johnny Rockets is a fitting
tribute to Philly's prominent role in the development of rock and
roll: Bandstand, the Philadelphia Sound..."
"Sound, schmound," mocks the Philaphobe. "If Philadelphia
is so important, why did they build the Rock and Roll Museum in
Cleveland?"
"Well, we have one of the greatest orchestras in the world."
"And no classical-music radio station."
"We're a cosmopolitan, multilingual city…"
"…that speaks with a Philadelphia accent-the Spam of
accents."
The dreaded Philadelphia accent--the one I've spent a lifetime
trying to lose. The Phile was about to concede defeat to the Phobe,
when I remembered my niece's enthusiasm about her visit and my own
excitement over the changes that are slowly transforming Philadelphia
into a tourist destination: the skyline, the Convention Center,
the restaurants.
Once again, I'm in touch with my inner Philaphile. Maybe that accent
isn't so bad. In fact, I ought to give my niece and her friends
a few Phillinguistics lessoons while they're here. I'll teach them
how to order "kawfee" and buy "The Inkwyer"
just like the natives. After all, any tourist can pick up a souvenir
Liberty Bell, but how many can go home "tawking Fluffyan"?
The accent, like the city, is not always "beeyouteeful,"
but it's unique.
Natalie Zellat Dyen
dyenn@yahoo.com
  
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