CAROLYN’S COMPOSITIONS
SNAPSHOT ENCOUNTERS:
Brief Meetings With People #3
SNAPSHOT ENCOUNTERS profiles some of the interesting people we meet during our travels to New England, by way of Philadelphia.
Today, September 3, 2008, is our wedding anniversary. My husband Monte and I had decided not to celebrate until tomorrow, since the Historical Society of Pennsylvania was open a long day today, from 12:30 p.m. to 8:30 p.m. All our “people sketches” in this piece occurred today.
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When we arrived at the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, there was a line extending to the end of the block—perhaps a half a city block in Philadelphia. Although I had been told that there was a national genealogical meeting in Philadelphia this week, I’d forgotten. It seems a number of attendees were lined up to do what I was doing—research. Fortunately, during my brief time in the research room yesterday, I had ordered several items to review, and all Monte and I had to do was collect them, one item per each of us at a time.
As we reviewed the folders holding the William Bingham papers from the 1790s, Monte and I would discuss what I needed to photograph (a preferred way of documentation during quick research trips). The man across from me and in the seat next to Monte heard us discussing Henry Jackson and the Scioto (Ohio) Land Grant. He informed us that he had a silhouette of Henry Jackson, made in the south during his younger years. The researcher told us how he accessed the silhouette, and offered to send me a copy to use in my power point presentation. I gave him my business card, and we all continued our research.
(NOTE: Monte and I wondered if he would really send it. He did, and gave me permission to use it, saying he was happy it would be publicized.)
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When Monte and I left the historical society when it closed, at 8:30 p.m., we took the train back to the Ferry Street train station in Cherry Hill, where we had boarded the train this morning.
It was really pretty easy to commute into Philadelphia by train. Much easier than knowing which road to take out of the parking lot to return to the motel. The exit was pretty tricky.
That’s how Monte and I came to spend part of our 42nd anniversary touring the worst section Camden, New Jersey, after dark. He took a wrong turn out of the parking lot, and we were lost in the depths of the city before we knew what had happened.
Monte was pretty frustrated, and I kept thinking “drive-by shootings.” I recalled the time I was sitting in church and heard a car backfire, and I thought it was a shooting in the church (it was during the time of the school and church shootings in the 1990s). Knowing what is going on in the world today makes one nervous!
We kept making wrong turns, and didn’t want to advertise our “lostness” by pulling over to the side, lighting the overhead light and reading the map. Fortunately, it wasn’t too long before Monte noticed a police car sitting in front of a dilapidated pizza shop.
“Yes,” I told him, “I do think we should pull in and ask for help.”
My window was rolled down, and when the officer looked at me, I said we needed help, we were lost, that we needed directions to get to Cherry Hill.
“I’ll take you there,” he said, without even starting to give us directions.. “Follow me.”
And we did follow him, making turns, going around bends in the road, until we hit the main road Monte had asked about. He pulled over, we passed him, and then he turned around, to return to his post.
We were relieved, not caring that his underlying actions confirmed that we were strangers in a bad neighborhood who needed rescuing, quickly. We were grateful that he led us out when we realized we never could have successfully made it out of the neighborhood due to the complexity of our being lost.
We commend and thank the Camden police force for having such caring officers.
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We went to the Bahama Breeze to celebrate our anniversary. Monte had a gift certificate that included this restaurant, and discovered on the Internet that the company had an eatery in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, where we were staying while we did research in Philadelphia.
The waiter spent some time with us, squatting on his knees at the edge of our table, patiently explaining the restaurant and the menu. We ordered spinach dip with chips (nacho, dried banana, something else), flat bread with tomato, I had a portabella mushroom sandwich and Monte had a thick bean soup priced at $3.50.
While waiting for our food, we explored the restaurant, trying to describe it. The building was octagonal, and there were three windows on a side—which measured three feet each (I had my measuring tape). There was a spoke-like beam support in the center of the room.
When the waiter returned, I asked him how he would describe the beam arrangement. He asked if I was a writer. He couldn’t actually describe it, either. However, the conversation veered to his wanting to attend college. He said he should go—he was unencumbered, he didn’t have a girl friend, he was thinking about going, but he spent all of his money rather than saving any of it. I told him that it would be much easier for him to take classes now than to wait until he was wed with a child, after which he either wouldn’t go and would be stuck in a dead end job or he would have to take classes while working and caring for a family. He agreed. I gave him my business card and told him to email me when he started classes. He stuck it in his wallet, saying it would make him feel guilty every time he looked at it.
The manager came over when we finished eating and chatted with us, even though it was after the Bahama Breeze’s closing time and staff had been vacuuming and cleaning up. We left the restaurant at 11:30 p.m.
ADDITIONAL READING:
