Philgrimage

I sure hope Geno's is the best,

because Pat's King of Steaks was a royal scam.

That's a provolone cheesesteak wit.  I took some cherry

peppers because they were free and they filled the void

where the steak was supposed to be.  Two thin slices of

cheese were laid in the roll and bland, kind of dry meat

(not even really greasy which would have made it taste like

something) and a scant spoonful of cooked onions were

dropped on top.  The roll was decent, but the sandwich was 

disappointing to say the least.  I shoulda gone with Cheez Whiz.

This is what I was envisioning.  Photo courtesy of an esteemed

fellow blogger.  It must be a San Francisco cheesesteak.

There was a Japanese film crew buzzing about documenting

this South Philly phenomenon.  The people still come in droves;

maybe I stopped by on an off day.

And I love me a Banh Mi sandwich, which any other day of the 

year I would have rather had, but was it wise to open a place

right next to Geno's, the Best?

I threw my bike in the car that morning, hoping for a ride along

Kelly Drive after I took care of my business.  There's a Fair

Amount of Park along the Schuylkill River where one can 

jog or ride his bike.  Historic Boathouse Row is situated

just northwest of the Art Museum.

Spring of 1957, on the ramp at Crescent Boat Club,

with Dad and his fellow oarsmen ready to row.

 A day probably not unlike last Thursday.

Spring of 2012, last Thursday.  I snuck through the unlocked gate 

behind a bunch of kids showing up for practice. Roman Catholic High 

School rows from Crescent these days.  LaSalle University now puts 

in at Fairmount Rowing Association, to the right, out of the photo. 

The man for whom the road beside the Schuylkill River was named.

The sport for which the Schuylkill River is famed.

Lemon Hill Mansion overlooking the Schuylkill and Boathouse Row.

Pennsylvania Barge Club to the left, and Crescent Boat Club 

on the right, taken from Lemon Hill.

Since the ban on one-upping Billy Penn was lifted, there are now

several, much taller, freakish looking buildings gracing? center-city

Philadelphia.  And you can't even see the twisted structure that 

houses Amtrak.  Or whatever that company's called now.   

Another click-blindly-while-driving photo. The light was red and I

was inching my way up almost to the perfect spot where I could get

a clear shot.  Then the light went green and all hell broke loose.

Adrian!!!!!!!!Pauly!!!!!!!Mickeeeeeeeeey!!!!!!!!!!!

The Rocky Ladder, as my wife's beloved Italian relatives christened 

these steps back in April of 2007.  I drove an SUV-load of them right

to the school bus unloading area, just around to the left of the 

building, and waited nervously while they ran to the front of the 

museum, videoing and snapping photos wildly while hugging 

Sylvester Stallone and jogging up the 'ladder', triumphantly waving 

their arms while throngs of onlookers cheered, thinking they'd just 

witnessed greatness. The Italians ran back to the car, and we started

 off on the bridge across the Schuylkill, but I made a sudden 

screeching U-turn, bounced over into the opposite lane, and 

raced back toward Benjamin Franklin Parkway and City Hall.

They all thought that was way cool, BTW.  

Another hold-the-camera-out-the-window shot.  That is the

Rodin Museum.  I think.

On my way back to Jersey following the directions for 676 East, 

I saw the Mole Street sign.  For old time's sake, I turned down 

and wasn't disappointed like I was three hours earlier, a good

bit south of here.  I had a hard time imagining where Kelly's

had been situated, but then again, didn't you remember your

 old backyard as being a lot bigger than it is now?

And no.  I didn't see the bell that day.