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  IDEAS & IDEALS

Philadelphia and I

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Philadelphia is the foreign city to which I feel particularly close with some unfading  memories. Whenever I come across the name in the newspaper or magazine, or hear it be mentioned on the radio or television, I feel my eyes open wide, or my ears prick up in spite of myself, like the ears of children, when they hear the word 'ice-cream' on a hot summer day. And then I find myself going back to it in search of the faces and scenes made familiar during my three-year sojourn in it as a student.

     I feel always happy and proud of the fact that it was none other than in Philadelphia that I happened to spend such a long and fruitful time in my life in the United States. As you know, Philadelphia is the home of the Liberty Bell and Independence Hall; here the Declaration of Independence was written and signed; here was the first capital of the United States; here the Constitution was drawn up and approved. But not many people are lucky enough to have the opportunity to stay or live in Philadelphia, where so many historic buildings and national shrines abound in. This is where even Americans are eager to come and see with their families at least once in their life.

     Like the people living in a big city elsewhere in the world, I heard many Philadelphians complain about the ills Philadelphia have: about water and air being polluted, mean streets, too much traffic, and too much violence. Yet very strangely I could not agree with them even on one count. I could see and feel only something of the original Quaker concern for the condition of man gleam, as it did when the first Pilgrims arrived on the May Flower. Truly, for all its apparent ills and diseases any modern metropolis are suffering from, Philadelphia remains what it was in Colonial times: a cosmopolitan seaport, a university city, a center of sciences and medicine, the home of the world's finest orchestras; a city of books, music, fine arts, commerce and manufacture.

     What struck me most was the nature well preserved in and around the city yet. I cannot forget the short excursion, led by an American friend, Mark Crawford, along a stream, Wissauhickon, which means Catfish Creek. It winded through a wilderness inhabited by opossums, racoons, skunks, muskrats, rabbits, deer, ducks, and pheasants. To my thrilling pleasure, I came across many of them during my hiking on that day. Mark was on the same night shift with me as a security guard at Chilton Publishing Company that was located in the suburb of Philadelphia. He told me that he quit Villanova University which I was attending then, and was preparing himself to become a writer. He promised me he would take me on a fishing trip for trout and catfish in the stream next time. Very unfortunately he could not keep the promise, because one day he had a big quarrel with his father and left home before the plan was realized. I wonder from time to time what has become of him.

     There are many long trails, I came to know, that lead through forests and woods into the center of town, and many people today still enjoy hiking or riding horseback along the trails into or out of town. Sometimes the trails lead you to broad grassy meadows and playing fields, and sometimes to botanical gardens and magnificent Colonial mansions open to the public. Valley Green is the name of an inn in the forest, I heard, where you can stable your horse and have good lunch even today. The inn has been providing food and rest for man and beast these past 200 years. Often I have seen many Philadelphians fishing, sailing, and rowing on the river whose Indian name I could not spell correctly, however hard I tried to do, and probably no one else can either. And on the green velvet of grass spread endlessly so many happy-looking people stretched out peacefully here and there, like a herd of sheep, under the shade of a huge sycamore on summer days.

     I have become a lover of Philadelphia for many unspecifiable reasons, but first of all, I like the sound of the name. I like to hear as well as pronounce it with the accent falling on the third syllable: phi-la-Del-phi-a. Its polysyllables are so melodious that I cannot read it in silence. Next, the meaning of it: city of brotherly love. I sometimes recall that if I had stayed in New York or Chicago, or in any other city in the United States, I might not have been treated as a brother as I was in Philadelphia, and would have given up my study on the way, and come back home without my diploma, but only with bitter memories. You know the name of a place is as important as the name of a person is.

     I have still a fresh memory of the feeling I had when I walked on Market Street for the first time. How nice it was to think of the fact that I was walking the same street that Benjamin Franklin himself had walked 200 years ago; that famous man in American history; printer, author, inventor, scientist, diplomat and public official. I felt as if he, who liked to play tricks all through his life so much, even in his adulthood, was hiding himself somewhere to surprise me.

     As for me, I owe a special debt to Benjamin Franklin. Since I teach American literature to students, I have time to mention many American writers including him. Whenever I feel the students are not paying as much attention to my lecture in the classroom, I never fail to tell the story that I have been to the great Benjamin Franklin's grave in the Christ Church Burial Ground on Arch Street, stood on his grave, and had a picture taken. And then I pass around the photo as an evidence. This has nothing to do with the literature itself but it always works. It is evident that I could not command as much attention and authority over the students if I tried to frighten them by saying that I had been to the top of the Empire State Building in New York. Students are smart, you know.

     During the Bicentennial celebrations in America and around the world, I could hear of and see on TV many familiar stories, places and buildings in Philadelphia, and I was reminded of several incidents and persons associated with them. One of them was John Mullins who took me to the basketball game between Villanova University and La Salle one day. Before we went into Palestra, John  bought something from one of the street vendors, like we buy a bottle of 'Soju' and some dried squid. What he bought was 'pretzel', a crispy-salty biscuit made in the shape of a knot or stick, and I came to know later that Philadelphia was the home of the pretzel, one of the favorite American foods. It was not so fantastic at my first taste, and I thought he bought too much. But during the exciting game I found all of them gone unawares. By the time I leave America for home pretzel has become one of my favorite delicacies among American foods. When I miss John, I miss the taste of pretzel, and vice versa.

     There is one thing I don't like about Philadelphia. In fact, it is not about Philadelphia itself, but about the vague attitude of the Philadelphia Historical Commission. They seem to insist that Betsy Ross probably never lived in the Betsy Ross House on Arch Street, and she had nothing to do with making the first American flag for George Washington during the Independence War. I don't know whether scholars are more satisfied with the fact but I am not, simply because they reduce the quality and authority of my picture taken in front of the Betsy Ross House with a pretty American girl, a tour guide. I cannot boast of the picture with as much sincerity and pride as I do with the other picture taken on the grave of Benjamin Franklin or with the one in front of the Liberty Bell with one of my hands touching it. Why can't or don't they boast and boost as other cities are eager to do? Go to Verona, Italy. It proudly displays the balcony of Juliet, under which Romeo wooed her, and the visitors are just happy being there. Nobody contests the historical truth of it. Scholars may just well find out truth, but certainly they are killers of joy.

     Memories of any kinds tend to make us sad and nostalgic, because we are already far removed from the time and the place they took place. To keep, cherish and savor them is a sign of one's ageing. But to be able to be sad and nostalgic about things past is also a natural blessing for a wise and intelligent man, especially when one is in the blessed mood of solitude. It is a natural way of enriching our life as well as lengthening it. Without memories life is too short and its content is too poor. We can travel back and forth to the remote past within a split second, and during that time we can relive a part of life again. Philadelphia is the one of the dear places I like to go without bothering me or anybody around a bit, anytime I feel weary of myself and feel like being away from what I am doing.                                                                                            
(May 26, 1976)

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강조자님의 댓글

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From the first essay, you have been revealing your future
of being a beloved columnist as well as an essayist.
This beautiful essay brings us to your good old days.
From this story I can picture you working your way through the
collage arduously.
Good for you belatedly ! and now please help me with this !
I can't comprehend the following sentence.
["I could see and feel only something of the original Quaker concern
for the condition of man gleam,~~~~."]
Reading from the story of Benjamin Franklin to Betsy Ross, I couldn't
stop myself from smiling.
Those paragraphs are telling us, all the more, very humorous stories.
Thank you for running this essay for us.

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이창국님의 댓글의 댓글

이창국 쪽지보내기 메일보내기 자기소개 아이디로 검색 전체게시물 작성일

" 필그림 교도들이 메이플라우워 호를 타고 대서양을 건너와 처음 미국땅에 상륙하였을 당시에 그랬듯이,
이곳 필라델피아에는 퀘이커 교도들이 이해한 인간에 대한 이상이 아직도 남아 빛을 발하고 있음을 나는 보고 느낄 수 있다."
(나름대로 번역을 시도하여 보았는데 도움이 되었는지 모르겠습니다. 모호한 문장을 써서 죄송합니다.)

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강조자님의 댓글의 댓글

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대단히 고맙습니다.
영어 외에 글 내용에서 역사-지리학적, 문학적지식을 많이 얻습니다.

미국 서부지역 약간, 그리고 최근에 하와이에 갔다온 것이 제가 구경한
미국의 전부인데 제 욕심으론 선생님의 제자님들도의 영문도 여기에서
여기에서 읽을 수 있었으면 하고 바랍니다.

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Jae-uk Choo님의 댓글

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While I stayed in PA, I went there with my family in 2006, exactly 20 years after you published the essay.
Two decades have passed. Time flew so quick but space still remained intact. Actually, more than two centuries have passed since Americans saw Independence Hall, Bell of Liberty, Ben's Grave, and Betsy Ross House in Philadelphia. However, whenever all the people who visited there once hear the name of Philadelphia, the memory of those historic things touches their hearts.
I think that nothing could be a more stimulating and helpful guide than your essay when I was in the old city. Your essay on Chicgo did play the same role, too, in my visit to the city.
Thanks, Prof. Lee. Please let me see you when I go back to Korea soon.
I am looking foward to seeing you. Jae-uk Choo.

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이창국님의 댓글의 댓글

이창국 쪽지보내기 메일보내기 자기소개 아이디로 검색 전체게시물 작성일

Me too. Telephone me when you be back home.
I look forward to seeing you soon. Thank you. I wish you and all your family well.

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