We go from this:
Before I get to where I'm going with this one, let me clarify something.
I'm not really either pro-choice or pro-life.
I've never shaken a sense that abortion is always a tragedy and sometimes a sin.
To this:
But I'm sure government has no business whatsoever dictating to women or couples what should be done about a pregnancy.
So, uh, you're pro-choice then? Being pro-choice isn't about your personal fucking fee-fees about abortion, it's about what you think government policy should be. So YOU ARE PRO-CHOICE but you don't want to admit to having icky cooties like actual pro-choice people who are icky and gross and super icky.
I've lived in this city for 13 years. I've never understood why people pay this person. There are slugs with more interesting views. What an asshole.
Every Thanksgiving, we'd bundle ourselves up and cart our lawn chairs onto the SEPTA train for the ride to Suburban Station, then wheedle some curbside real estate to gawk at balloons and bands.
For the kids, the train ride was as much the point of the adventure as the procession. They'd stare, riveted, at the scenes of North Philly as the R-6 rolled through. We wanted them to see those scenes, to grasp their luck.
Yes, we were suburbanites, but suburbanites who loved the city and visited often: the dinosaur museum, Please Touch, the Franklin. Not every parent of our kids' friends was the same. Their view of urban life was framed by the sirens and chalk outlines on Action News.
When we'd call to see if their kid could join us on a jaunt to say, the Zoo, they'd ask, horror in their voices, "Really? Into the city? You take your kids into the city?"
We considered it a civic mitzvah to cart their little darlings into Philly to enjoy things they'd never see otherwise, then deliver them safely home to their astonished parents.