So we’ve been working really hard on our holiday mission at First Friday Main Line. It’s called Operation Angel Wings. It’s a publicity effort I am really proud of.

We will be collecting items that U.S. Soldiers can carry in their vehicles while out on patrol. Lt. Col. Marx, a local resident who actually worships at St. Mary’s in Ardmore, serving in Afghanistan, tells us that one of the stresses of combat tours is to see so many poor and needy and to have nothing to offer them. Basically, even small items are appreciated.

Requested items include winter clothing, especially for children: sweaters, fleeces, scarves, gloves, socks, long sleeved athletic clothing. Towels, small stuffed animals, small toys for boys and girls – think matchbox cars and Beanie Babie sized items, for example. In addition, reading glasses are extremely useful for older Afghans.

If donating used items, they must be clean in good repair and gift giving condition. These small lightweight items are easy to ship and easy to carry long distances.

Please bring your donations to:

Ardmore Initiative, 56 E. Lancaster Ave, Ardmore or
Past*Present*Future, 15 W. Lancaster Ave, Ardmore

First Friday Main Line hopes through these efforts to bring smiles to the voiceless victims of the collateral damage of war as First Friday Main Line remembers the children of war torn Afghanistan this holiday season by launching “Operation Angel Wings”.

Lt. Col. Marx is what I like to call an earth angel. Here he is, along with all these other soldiers in a war zone that could try anyone’s soul.

I believe in the U. S. Military, even though the concept of war is something I struggle with at times, to be honest. But I have known many fine individuals who have served and when I read Lt. Col. Dr. Kenneth Marx’s words (he is a battalion surgeon), I see all of their faces. I am reminded that with the great strength of military forces, can also come great compassion.

Something about this man whom I have never met face to face, and the help from U.S. Army Combat Correspondent Sgt. Tracy J. Smith (who along with the Marx family have lent us the use of photographs to help tell this story) just touched me, Sherry Tillman, and the rest of First Friday Main Line.

We are reminded of the blessings we have in our lives and how inconsequential some things are in comparision to what this man and others are doing in Afghanistan while also serving our country. When you learn about people like Lt. Col. Dr. Kenneth Marx, your basic faith in the deceny of mankind is renewed; you learn that as awful as it all seems at times, there are good people out there giving others hope and the rest of us a greater good we can believe in through simple acts of human kindness.

I have also alerted American Troop Support Team’s Joe Natale whom First Friday Main Line helped in September, 2008 to see if they can not only pass the word as to what these soldiers are collecting for and why, but to muster up one of their goody boxes to send to these active duty soldiers where Lt. Col. Dr. Kenneth Marx is serving – Camp Hughie – and if I have my military info correct -The 108th Cavalry Regiment, which is operating under the active U.S. Army’s 4th BCT, 4th Infantry Div., which has responsibility for much of Nangahar (Afghanistan). 12/1/09 I have had a reply back from Joe —Joe is another one of our earth angels, and we believe in him, and knew he would get back to us— so Joe if you are reading this,THANK YOU!!! Joe is shipping Ken Marx and his guys a goody box just for them!!!

Mind you, we also contacted the Today Show with NBC in NYC, but they have sadly not responded. We even called and got some intern on the phone who spoke to us in an uptalk sing song voice and we could tell was bored to tears and not listening at all. But we know how busy the Today Show staff is and we hope  that what Lt. Col. Dr. Kenneth Marx is doing is so truly good and worthy of attention — they always do these things about charity and soldiers that we thought they would like to learn about this.

The thing I forgot to mention is Lt. Col. Dr. Marx does this little humanitarian effort on his own with help from his fellow soldiers just because it is the right thing to do – there is no non-profit running the show – they just do it because it’s the right thing to do – with great strength comes great compassion.

I hope all of you out there help us help Lt. Col. Dr. Marx and his fellow soldiers. If you don’t have anything to donate, you can also make small monetary donations c/o First Friday Main Line so we can purchase additional items and also to help fund the postage – maybe out there is another earth angel who will help us with the postage? To those of you who have already given us donations, THANK YOU!!!!

We all should give thanks to our men and women serving in the U.S. military like Lt. Col. Dr. Marx. I will leave you today with Lt. Col. Dr. Marx’s own words:

Dear friends, The attachment is an essay I wrote for my nephew Jeremy Marx’s middle school class. I also sent him some photos with the story.

Sending photos from here is tedious and I hope that he’ll have a chance to forward them to you when his class is done asking questions. The New York Times Sunday front page Nov 22 by Dexter Filkins was about the 108th Cavalry’s battlespace. We may be living smack in the middle of a crossroads here. After 30 years of forlorn hopes dashed on the rocks it seems like too much to hope for. I would love to see this place in a peaceful time where I could put the weapons away and just be myself. I’m sure most of the Afghans have the same dream.

We’ll have Thanksgiving meal in a tent with a forward unit. Remember these guys when you have your meal. They’re doing their best for all of us.

Best regards to all, Ken Marx

SEVEN THINGS I HAVE LEARNED IN AFGHANISTAN
1-THERE IS NO SUBSTITUTE FOR SEEING THE SITUATION FOR YOURSELF. On my first day in Afghanistan I made a dumb mistake and was loaded onto the wrong helicopter flight. Instead of a short hop to a base in a safe area I wound up touring the area of the heaviest fighting in Kunar Province. It was the best mistake I could have made. The view from the air is spectacular and unforgettable. On my first day I could see from all angles how most of the country is absolutely uninhabitable. The steep mountain terrain strongly favors an enemy that knows the whole area well, moves in small numbers on foot, and avoids the roads except to attack. As a result I have had a grasp of our difficult mission that would otherwise not have been clear to me. The enemy has a difficult set of problems, too, but they are operating in their own backyard using donkeys for transport in the same way their families have for thousands of years.

2-THERE IS NOT A LOT OF ACTUAL FIGHTING People think that fighting is the main thing we do here. Actually, the fighting takes place suddenly, unexpectedly, and doesn’t usually last very long. It’s the part that the soldiers are very well trained to do, they are intensely focused on it, and they can take control of a difficult situation very quickly. Many of them actually look forward to combat as an ultimate challenge, despite the horrific danger. It takes a tremendous amount of education, intense training, and months of physical and mental preparation to fight the way the US military does. For this reason the enemy avoids fighting us except in situations where they can strike quickly and get away before we can respond. The place where things often go wrong is not so much in battle, but in the everyday details of running camps and convoys. See below.

3-THE MOST DIFFICULT PART IS LEADERSHIP, PERSONNEL, COMMUNICATIONS, SUPPLIES, AND EQUIPMENT What is required for an army to succeed in the field is that: A. the orders are clear and everybody knows where to be and when, B. every person can be relied upon to show up in good health in the right place at the right time with the right gear, C. everyone remains in touch with every other part of the organization throughout the day D. everyone has all the water, food, and supplies they need, and E. everything mechanical works the way it is supposed to. Unfortunately, it is a rare situation where A,B,C,D,E all unfold without a snag. The enemy has the same set of problems, but they have a lot less stuff to lug around and fewer things to break down.

4- WE ARE THE MOST POWERFUL FORCE THE WORLD HAS EVER SEEN, BUT UNLESS WE BEHAVE AS GUESTS OF THE AFGHAN PEOPLE WE WILL FAIL LIKE EVERYONE BEFORE US. The Soviets proved that no amount of fighting will subdue the Afghans. Their war effort was carefully conducted, taking into account lessons learned, using excellent equipment, coordinated tactics, and utterly brutal execution. But the harder they fought, the farther behind they fell. By the time they gave up, they had destroyed the country’s agricultural infrastructure and social network. They never lost control of the cities. They installed a government and trained and equipped an army that held the rebels at bay for years after they departed. (The Afghan government that the Soviets installed actually lasted longer than the Soviet Union.) The Soviets failed to ask the Afghans what it was that they wanted and failed to develop a plan based on their wishes. However, it’s not easy to determine what the Afghan people want (see #5).

5-THE PROCESS OF LEARNING A LANGUAGE CAN TEACH YOU A LOT ABOUT THE PEOPLE WHO SPEAK IT. The insurgency that is fighting the Afghan government mostly arises out of the Pashtun ethnic group. I have been struggling to learn their language, Pashto. I’ve learned a number of languages before, but Pashto is different in one respect. If you are in a room of six Pashtuns and you ask them how to say the phrase “I hope you feel better soon” in Pashto you will get six different answers. It is no wonder that we have difficulty uniting the Pashtuns around a complex set of ideas or plans. They don’t even agree on how to speak their language.

6-THERE ARE A LOT OF AIR FORCE AND NAVY PEOPLE HERE. Very few people realize how much of the work and quite a bit of the fighting is being done by all branches of the military. I even met a Coast Guard officer, an expert in International Law.

7- THE UNIFORMED PERSONNEL HERE ARE SIMPLY MAGNIFICENT. Everyone here has learned the difficulty and frustration that we face in accomplishing our mission. Partnering with the Afghan military and government at times can be very satisfying, and there has been enormous progress. Often, though our partners can be maddening. Anyone who followed the meandering progress of the recent election is aware of the frustration and how at times the situation can appear hopeless. Our service members face horrific dangers on an everyday basis, fully aware of this tenuous situation. All of us regularly witness instances of waste, fraud, and incompetence. Nevertheless, as a group we are collectively committed to this great task provided that we proceed with a commitment toward developing a structure of integrity, and in a way that honors the sacrifice that so many have been and will be called upon to face.
Kenneth Marx, MD Nangarhar Province November 21, 2009

Here is the article he referred to from the New York Times:

The New York Times
Afghan Militias Battle Taliban With Aid of U.S. Sign in to Recommend
By DEXTER FILKINS
Published: November 21, 2009

ACHIN, Afghanistan — American and Afghan officials have begun helping a number of anti-Taliban militias that have independently taken up arms against insurgents in several parts of Afghanistan, prompting hopes of a large-scale tribal rebellion against the Taliban.

The emergence of the militias, which took some leaders in Kabul by surprise, has so encouraged the American and Afghan officials that they are planning to spur the growth of similar armed groups across the Taliban heartland in the southern and eastern parts of the country.

The American and Afghan officials say they are hoping the plan, called the Community Defense Initiative, will bring together thousands of gunmen to protect their neighborhoods from Taliban insurgents. Already there are hundreds of Afghans who are acting on their own against the Taliban, officials say.

Many thanks to the Main Line Times and Cheryl Allison for a very special article they wrote about this for Thursday:

Main Line Times > News
Operation Angel Wings flies via FFML
Published: Wednesday, November 25, 2009
By Cheryl Allison

For the first time in his recent memory Dr. Kenneth Marx will not be doing his holiday gift-shopping at one of his favorite stores in Ardmore: owner Sherry Tillman’s Past*Present*Future crafts and gift shop on Lancaster Avenue.

But the emergency physician, who is also known these days as Lt. Col. Marx, will still have a strong connection with Ardmore and other Main Line communities this holiday season.

Marx, a member of the U.S. Army Reserve who was deployed in October to Afghanistan, is the inspiration for a special project taking place in connection with First Friday Main Line’s holiday edition, Friday, Dec. 4, from 5 to 10 p.m. at many places from Ardmore to Bryn Mawr.

In what local volunteers have dubbed “Operation Angel Wings,” FFML is asking area residents who attend the festive Dec. 4 events to drop off donations of small articles of warm winter clothing — hats, gloves, scarves, socks and more — or small toys at collection sites in Ardmore.

The items will be shipped to Afghanistan, where the troops with whom Marx is serving can carry them along to hand out on patrols as a goodwill gesture to young and older Afghanis.

Marx, who practices at Reading Hospital in West Reading, is a Broomall resident. But he is also a parishioner at St. Mary’s Episcopal Church in Ardmore and has been a regular customer at Tillman’s shop.

“One day he came in in a complete Army outfit,” Tillman recalled, and that’s how she heard his story — how he joined the Reserve shortly after the Sept. 11 attacks.

Recently she had sent him out a routine e-mail inviting him to attend a holiday event at the store. That’s when Marx wrote back, saying “I can’t drop in. I’m in Afghanistan.”

As they communicated, Marx shared with her how the troops he works with have been “trying to make a difference here,” where poverty can be severe. He described seeing “children barefoot and in rags.”

Marx told her how the soldiers had begun trying to collect small items that they could carry along with them to give to people they meet.

Tillman decided to make a collection of items a charity for First Friday to support in December. With the help of FFML volunteer Carla Zambelli, she said the organization has been “getting the word out” and already donations have started to come in, both at her shop and at the offices of the Ardmore Initiative, the downtown business authority.

Marx, she said, “is one of the truly good people in the universe.” As the idea of Operation Angel Wings began to grow, “I realized how lucky I am to be involved with a person like him” and have an opportunity to help people in need.

In e-mails from his base in Nangahar Province, Marx explained that although he has previously served at Walter Reed Army Hospital and at Fort Dix, this is his first combat deployment.

He is serving as battalion surgeon with the Georgia National Guard’s 108th Cavalry, also known as the “Roughriders.” In that capacity, his job includes “day-to-day care of illness and injury for about 1,500 persons” as well as serving as a medical adviser to the battalion commander.

He said he was assigned to the Georgia unit when it “needed a physician on short notice, due to the illness of the assigned person.”

As part of his duties, he also seeks to “develop humanitarian-assistance projects at the village level to support the efforts of our patrol units to provide security and extend law, governance and social institutions.”

In this, he said, the troops are trying to counteract the influence of the Taliban, who he said “try to intimidate everyone. [They] don’t allow commerce, education or social interaction unless they control it.”

This is not the first humanitarian mission in which Marx has been involved. As a physician, when he was invited by the Ugandan government to tour a prison there in 1999, he met a woman named Joy Nsamba, a public-health nurse assigned to provide health care at a number of prisons.

Working with her, he developed a program to combat rampant disease in African prisons by providing a combination of medicines and tools for better hygiene. The project has continued, with funding support from Episcopal congregations in Pennsylvania including St. Mary’s.

In Afghanistan Marx said he also saw a way to make a difference in people’s lives and build goodwill by providing small, commonplace items.

At this time “the items we need are small winter accessories, scarves, sweaters, gloves, socks, children’s and long-sleeved athletic clothing.”

“Everything needs to be transported in rucksacks or vehicles with limited space,” he added, “so small is the key.” Marx also mentioned a need for reading glasses for older people.

Tillman said that’s the list Operation Angel Wings is working from. But they have also added items such as small toys or stuffed animals — “Beanie Baby — or Matchbox car-size,” she said is a good rule of thumb – or perhaps small picture books as gifts for children.

Items donated can be new or used. If used, they should be clean and in good repair.

Tillman said FFML also welcomes monetary donations, which will be used either to buy items that have not been donated or to cover the costs of shipping items to Marx and his fellow soldiers.

On Dec. 4 items can be dropped off at Past*Present*Future at 15 W. Lancaster Ave. or at the Ardmore Initiative, 56 E. Lancaster Ave.

If you can’t attend that night, items may also be dropped off at both locations at any time during business hours.

More information about Operation Angel Wings and how to give money to it is on the Web at www.firstfridaymainline.com

Thank you Philadelphia Inquirer and Bonnie Cook!!

Posted on Mon, Nov. 30, 2009
From Ardmore to Afghanistan, a mission of giving
By Bonnie L. Cook
Inquirer Staff Writer

An unusual peace process will play out soon in Afghanistan.
There will be no shiny limos, or summits for talking heads.

The diplomacy will turn on an everyday item: a child’s knit cap, stuffed in a U.S. soldier’s rucksack and given to a ragged Afghan youngster for battling the biting cold.

The goodwill gesture is called Operation Angel Wings, and it’s the brainchild of an Ardmore shopkeeper and a Broomall trauma surgeon stationed in Afghanistan, Lt. Col. Kenneth Marx.

“Someday those kids will grow up to place their finger on a trigger,” Marx said in an e-mail. “The moment when the target in their sights resembles the guys who once gave them a winter cap is that moment when reconciliation might hold violence at bay.

“Life in the mountains here is nasty, brutish, and utterly strange. Soft power and indirect means may be the winding path to an improvised solution, if there is a solution to be found.”

Writing from Nangarhar province, where he is deployed with the National Guard’s 108th Cavalry, Marx said the immediate aim was to get Americans and Afghans talking.

“We have asked for folks at home to send small gifts of winter clothing, which are excellent conversation-starters,” he said.

When he arrived in Afghanistan on Oct. 12, Marx said, he saw a need for children’s hats, gloves, sweaters, socks, scarves, fleece jackets, and small, lightweight toys that could go with soldiers on patrol.

On Nov. 9, Marx received an e-mail from Sherry Tillman, 6,824 miles away in Ardmore, inviting him to the holiday sale at her gift and art-gallery store. He wrote back, saying he couldn’t attend and asking if she could send warm clothes for the Afghan children.

“He wrote me that the kids are barefoot and in rags, and it’s winter,” Tillman said. She said she recalled thinking, “Oh, my God, I have to do something.”

Sponsored by First Friday Main Line, a nonprofit organization that promotes the Lancaster Avenue shopping district, Operation Angel Wings began immediately.

Tillman, director of First Friday Main Line, said she was determined to collect everything on Marx’s wish list. The gifts will be stored at her shop, Past*Present*Future, and the Ardmore Initiative office, both on Lancaster Avenue.

Tillman has set Friday as the shipping date for the first donations.

“I’d like to be able to send several packages right away, and to be able to continue sending,” Tillman said.

A couple of weeks ago, Carla J. Zambelli, publicist for First Friday Main Line, sent out an e-mail blast asking residents for donations. The donations have started trickling in, Tillman said….Operation Angel Wings
What is being sought

Children’s winter hats, fleeces, scarves, sweaters, gloves, socks, long-sleeved athletic wear.

Toys the size of Matchbox cars, and Beanie Babies.

Adult reading glasses and towels.

All must be clean and lightweight.

Donation points in Ardmore

Ardmore Initiative, 56 E. Lancaster Ave. Past*Present*Future, 15 W. Lancaster Ave.

For online donations to defray shipping costs, visit www.firstfridaymainline.com . For more information, call 610-642-4040.

——————————————————————————–
Contact staff writer Bonnie L. Cook at 610-313-8232 or // bcook@phillynews.com.

Kate Langenburg/A&E Groove

Today I really got to thinking about one of my favorite television shows: Monk. I like it so much that I watch it everywhere I possibly can — on the internet, at friends houses, on dvd. It shows real dedication for someone who doesn’t have cable television.

Here’s a brief synopsis for all of you who don’t know or watch the show…Monk was a cop who lost his wife in a car bomb. After that, he was so shaken up that he couldn’t recover mentally, so he was forced to give up his badge and then continued work with the police as a private investigator. Each episode is a case that Monk, with the help of his assistant (Sharona or Natalie), solves. He almost always cracks the mystery and is rarely wrong.

The comical part of the show is that he has severe OCD, panic disorders, anxiety disorders, and whatever kind of phobias you could imagine. As a result, he says and does ridiculous things more often than not. He loves to clean, can’t go to the bathroom in public places, and is afraid of elevators, dirt, spiders, celestial space, fog, being touched, rabies, sitting down….shall I continue? Click here to read a list of all Monk’s phobias.

It is these personal tics that make the show interesting. Watching Monk try to solve cases, but still fear everything is quite amusing.

But alas, all good things must come to an end. After a whopping eight seasons, the show is finally coming to an end. I haven’t seen the finale yet, but my guess is that Monk will finally find out what happened to his wife, Trudy. I’m thinking he will find out who the murderer is, and then find some way to get past it, ending on a happier note. I can’t imagine ending the show on a sad one.

In an article in the Philadelphia Inquirer, Tony Shaloub, who plays Monk, is satisfied with the show’s success and ending. He’s won a Golden Globe from the show and has gained much fame from his character. In some ways, Shaloub thinks that people who watch the show become a bit like Monk. It’s probably true…we all have a little OCD in each of us.

Thank you for all those episodes, Mr. Monk.

By Bob Schwabach

Originally published in the Philadelphia Inquirer

I felt the need soon after I entered the bathroom downstairs from the restaurant in Malaga, Spain.

Malaga, Spain

There were all sorts of guide books to Europe–far too many guide books, in fact. But not one of them dealt with a basic problem certain to be encountered by every single traveler, young or old, of whatever nationality. I tentatively decided to call it “Where To Go In Europe” — in homage to a previous, mere local, guide book of two decades ago: “Where  To Go In London.”

Victoria Station

This was a superbly practical book, giving directions, hours of availability, and a rating to every public bathroom of any note in the London area. I remember that the public room in Victoria Station were given three-and-a-half pissoirs, and drew the rave comment: “A veritable symphony of public hygiene.” (Though I understand from more recent visitors that Victoria Station has definitely gone downhill since then, and it is now questionable whether it is even worth rating.)

There was a time for all these musings, and much more, because when I entered the stall of the bathroom downstairs from the restaurant in Malaga, in southern Spain, the handle came off in my hand.

Now this bathroom was in most ways no different from an ordinary American public bathroom, and in my proposed guide of “Where To Go In Europe” it would not rate so much as a single pissoir, nor even a paper towel epaulet.

It did have some peculiarities, however. The walls of the stall were tiled concrete and went floor to ceiling. The door was louvered steel and had no more than a six-inch air gap top and bottom — and it had clicked solidly shut when the handle came off in my hand.

Time passed.  It was not a popular bathroom.

I ruminated on what a large field had been uncovered here. Most Americans on the first trip abroad have already been prepared, from hearing the tales of earlier travelers, for the open-air sidewalk toilets that are found all over Paris and most other cities in western Europe. These are surrounded by a

circular shield which obscures the user from about the knees to the chest. Thoughtfully it permits those inside to continue conversations with friends outside and even strike up new ones with chance passers-by.

But few Americans are prepared for a similar outdoor toilet found all over Italy. These are just the same as the French ones except the circular shield has been omitted and the whole is open to public view.

They are many of them an ancient and venerable affairs and the Italians call them Vespasianos, after the Roman Emperor Vespasian, who ordered them built.

It seems Vespasian had come on hard times tax-wise, a problem common to many governments in many times, and hit on the idea of building public toilets and charging a penny for their use. The toilets were put up completely unshielded so the tax collector could readily observe when they were being used or not.

The tax was a total failure as the wily Italians proved adept at clutching their togas tight about them and claiming that, in fact, they had been doing nothing more than standing there and staring at this thing trying to figure out what it was. For Vespasian–Lord of the Earth, Favored of the Sun,

The Emperor Vespasian

General of all the Legions — it is the only thing history remembers him for.

In the Cafe Catalonia in the Casbah in Tangiers I first encountered a much more interesting toilet of a general design that is found, with local modifications, in a semi-circular belt that stretches across North Africa, through Turkey, and into Europe by way of Greece, Yugoslavia and Romania– the route of the Ottoman conquerors.

This is a structure much like a shower stall, with a floor of bare concrete containing a drain and two low platforms in the shape of feet. In some variations the footprint treadles are sunken instead of raised.

Considerable athletic prowess is required to operate these toilets successfully. Two handgrips are attached to the wall and one, if one is a man, lowers the trousers and clutches them between the knees while leaning backward holiding onto the handgrips. The tricky part comes when you’re finished and ready to leave.

The flush, you see, is overhead. That is, the water to flush the whole affair comes from a point directly over your head.

The pants are pulled up and fastened or clutched with one hand as best one can. Still holding on with the other hand, you reach up and pull the overhead flush. You then must move very quickly, because the water will come down immediately. The hand released from the flush darts forward and grasps the door handle, throwing the door open while the other arm simultaneously pulls hard on the offside handgrip so as to catapault oneself forward into the room and out of the way before the water comes down. You soon get the hang of it. I would sit in this cafe with friends and occasionally, when the conversation lagged, we would turn our chairs slightly and watch the various gentlemen of different nationalities rocket across the room as they left the toilet.

Pinwheeling and turning, executing neat box steps, and brief piouettes, some still clutching their pants, some not, each seemed to have his own individual style. I remember seeing an English lady drop her chin into her fruit cup once as a French dentist came out and right past her table as if shot out of a gun.

I was moving on to the consideration of German and Scandinavian toilets when someone entered the bathroom downstairs from the restaurant in Malaga, in the Province of Malaga, in the sunny south of Spain.

I hammered on the door and stated my position in three languages.

The man spoke only Spanish and mine was unfortunately insufficient to explain the complete complexities of the problem. The phrase book didn’t seem to cover the situation. Fortunately I had a pen and paper and asked him to take it to the head waiter. It said, quite simply:

“HELP! THERE IS AN AMERICAN IN YOUR BATHROOM.”

Time passed.

Finally a small group arrived whose number I could not accurately determine since they kept shifting their feet. They tried the outside handle. It turned but did not engage the catch. They suggested I replace my handle in the socket and try it. I did so again and as before, it also turned but did not engage the catch. Everyone left.

Time passed. After a week or two some people came back and this time they had brought with them an English girl, the only customer in the place who could speak English and also fluent Spanish. “They have sent a locksmith,” she said.

“It is a thing devoutly to be desired,” I said.

“You’re American, aren’t you,” she said.

“You’re English, aren’t you,” I said.

“How did you ever get yourself into such a fix.”

“Yankee ingenuity.”

“Well, is there anything I can do for you?”

I thought about this for a minute. I had gone down to the bathroom just after ordering dinner and had been absent what by now must be a considerable time.

“Yes,” I said. “Could you please tell the waitress to hold the soup.”

BY SHAY RODDY

There was a piece in the Philadelphia Inquirer Sunday questioning how many people were at that grand, overdue parade down Broad Street, headed up by the Budweiser Clydesdales and followed by the Phillies players, front office, ballgirls, batboys and broadcasters on giant floats celebrating Philadelphia’s first major sports championship in a quarter century, just over a year ago. The author, Peter Mucha, claims that, contrary to media reports, there were not two million people at the parade and perhaps the media and the city used some tricks from the guy who announces attendance at Marlins games’ book.

Mucha’s studies and research point to the fact that two million people couldn’t even fit on Broad Street, considering they were about thirty feet deep.

Police have a term for unscientific estimates – SWAG, for “stupid, wild-ass guesses,” said [crowd estimating expert Clark] McPhail. …

…To calculate a crowd, McPhail said, one needs to determine the area occupied, and factor in an estimate of how tightly people were packed.

Such an analysis quickly deflates the notion that two million people crammed the sidewalks and curbs along the official parade route – from 20th and Market Streets to Broad Street to Pattison Avenue to Citizens Bank Park.

Along that four-mile stretch – about 21,000 feet – crowds packed about 20 to 25 feet wide on each side. Suppose crowds were 30 feet deep on each side – allowing spillage over the curbs or extra room in more open spots – making 60 feet total, counting both sides.

That means the lines of onlookers filled about 1.25 million square feet – nowhere close to the room two million Phils (or Flyers or 76ers) fans would need. [Ed. Note- I can't tell whether or not Mucha is taking a shot at our beloved Eagles with his omission or not]

One person every 5 square feet is more likely, said McPhail, after reviewing photographs of the parade.

This story, which was a mostly quiet, respectful statement of unpleasant fact was highlighted by NBC Yankees beat writer D. J. Short. Most people saw Short’s biased piece first, which caused all hell to break loose on Twitter, Facebook, the message boards, and local watering holes, especially after they read that Short thought the Phillies numbers were ridiculous, yet thought the Yankees reasonably had 1.5 million lining their route last month.

I read, listened and saw much of the outcry, but to me it just didn’t make that much sense. We were and will always be World bleepin’ Champions. They can’t take that away because some media honcho from the Big Apple says their parade had more people then ours, even though he provides absolutely no evidence.

I think we all kind of knew there weren’t really two million people there, after all, the president only had 1.8 at his inauguration. But, it was our unwritten, unspoken rule that we’d never try to disprove that favorable figure.

Unfortunately, Mucha did, and did a damn good job of proving it. But, it was still one helluva parade and one helluva season. No McPhails, Muchas, or Shorts can take that away.

By Bob Schwabach

EGYPT –

Originally printed in the Philadelphia Inquirer,  March 16, 1975

Ramses II, Valley of the Kings

Luxor is what the Greeks called Ancient Thebes, to distinguish it from modern Thebes in Greece itself, and everybody who was anybody built a temple here. Across the river, on the western bank of the Nile, is the Valley of the Kings. The  dead live on the west bank of the Nile, where the sun sets, and the living on the east, where the sun rises.

It is all planned out that way and has been that way for six or seven thousand years. Death is the business of Egypt; it is what tourists come to see and what they have come to see ever since the first millennium before Christ, when Herodotus complained that the tour guides were selling fake antiques to the Athenians.  Now Americans, Frenchmen and Scandinavians gawk where Caesar did, and we are the new Romans.

Nile boats

The Egyptians are as prepared for us as they were for them. Hotel rooms are scarce, the Nile boats are booked months in advance, the food is spotty, the service poor, and nobody speaks the language very well. It probably wouldn’t matter if they put people up in tents and fed them K-rations. Because this is Egypt, and nobody comes here for the resort cum fun and sun atmosphere of the Riviera and the Costa del Sol or even to sample the native food and rummage the bazaars for brass plates. This is The Land of the Pharaohs, as Cecil B. DeMille kept reminding us, and by gum it really is.

Sphinx

A lot of it has the air of some leftover movie set. The pyramids, the Sphinx, the great temples of Karnak and Abu Simbel, look disappointingly just like their pictures and everything is instantly recognizable. The Great Pyramids of Giza are just on the edge of Cairo, a one dollar taxi ride from the center of town. Turn right at the “Pirate’s Cove” nightclub. The Sphinx is just down the pike a piece, round halfway between the tomb of Cheops and his number one son, and you can walk over in five minutes.

The street Arabs will hustle you for trinkets and the like, but after you’ve bought or it’s apparent you’re a bummer you can go about as you please and no one will say to you boo. It is a mixed feeling to an American riased on highly organized national monuments and their entrances, complete with hot dog and souvenir stands. If you want to spend all day in silent meditation no one could care less, but if you want a drink or something to send home the concern level is roughly the same.

The best thing to do is hire a local guide. Since you cannot rent cars in Egypt (when this was written in 1975) this will normally consist of the taxi driver you engage to take you around the sights. He will perform every service that you would normally engage a travel agent for and even change your money on the black market. (In this line, the official rate of exchange of 58 piastres to the dollar (in 1975) with a special tax being levied on top of that for each transaction. Any cab driver in town can get you 70 piastres to the dollar, or at least 65 if it’s after 10 o’clock at night.)

Temples of Karnak

This driver will not take you any place you want to go, unless by accident, but if you just lean back, relax and stay calm, you will see a good part of the country.

If you are not in a tour group you will need a special government permit to visit most of the monuments. This is one of the main reasons that most people tour Egypt by group. The travel agents already have these permits and everything goes fairly smoothly, by local standards, which is to say a constant state of mild fury. To travel alone you have only to go to the national tourist office and ask for an individual permit, which will be granted without further ado.

Temple of Horus, at Etfou

That’s what it says right here in the tourist literature.

In actual fact, it does not work quite that way. Meet one American who tried it for five days and finally got the permit only through the intervention of a cabinet official. In some cities the tourist office people, being there to deal with tourists after all, speak no English.

The permits are required because in order to visit many of the ancient monuments you must pass through several military checkpoints along the way. These are apparently for the security of the nation or to provide employment for the Army, because once through them you will find that nothing of any discernible significance whatsoever is being guarded. But at each checkpoint an armed soldier will come to to inspect your permit. The taxi driver’s solution to this problem will be swift and simple; he will use your money to bribe the guard. Don’t worry, it will not be expensive. The going price for an Egyptian Army guard is about 50 cents.

Temple of Horus, Etfou

Etfou

In this way, or legitimately, you can get to see things like the Temple of Horus, at Etfou, which is not on most tours and is not promoted by the government.

By my own observation and the corroborative accounts of other travelers this is the most magnificent ancient monument in all of Egypt. It is the only temple that is still intact and that you can walk in and feel again the power of another age. Not visible from the road, it is buried deep in a miserable town whose only other distinguishing characteristic is a sugar refinery built by the Japanese.

This temple was built by the Ptolemies — Cleopatra’s folks — who were, of course, Greeks, and

Groppi's restaurant

that may be part of the reason why the Egyptian government. (Just as they do not promote Alexandria as an attraction, nor wish it publicized that 650,00 Greeks have been expelled from there over the past several years and their property confiscated.) It is unclear just which Ptolemy built the temple. As there was considerable pushing and shoving for the throne at the time, each ruler as he came to power would order the name of the previous ruler chiselled off the royal cartouches on the temple columns.

Finally the Egyptian stone masons just left the cartouches smooth and blank, saying in effect, “let us know when you’ve decided who’s in charge.” The cartouches are still blank.

You can reach Etfou by taxi from either Cairo or Luxor, about a hundred miles either way. You can also go by train but this is a gruesome experience. The hundred mile taxi ride will be around $20 round trip.

Groppi's

Downriver, or North as they say in these parts, is Cairo, which you may want to get out of as soon as possible. This is a city of 7 million people with the look and smell of an open sewer. The public transportation system is hair raising, the restaurants dirty-except for Groppi’s — and  Nile St., the local equivalent of Fifth Ave. shopping, has the look of a Brooklyn pushcart district but with less attractive merchandise.  On the plus side, the National Museum is quite fantastic– even if they don’t label their exhibits and leave the lights off in most rooms — and the Hilton Hotel has a Pizzeria. Now you can get out of Cairo.

Once upriver — that’s to the south — things improve markedly. You pass the pyramids (where the street Arabs offload junk bracelets and necklaces in jumbo lots, with the pitch — no kidding — “I’ll take two bucks for the whole schmeer.” It’s the new international language, then break out into open country which is just as poor and desolate as the part you’ve just come from but at least the air is clean. The first big stopping place upriver is Luxor, which the Greeks called Thebes, which features the great temples of Karmak.

As you move upriver, the water, which is a kind of green in Cairo, gradually turns blue. At Luxor, the sky is brilliant blue, the water is deep and swift, the sun warm and the air sparkling. Egypt is still the Nile and the desert is never far way. Walk away from the river and you will come to sand in anywhere from one to 30 minutes depending on the place. From then on it is a thousand miles of absolutely nothing. Not a single blade of grass grows unless you come to an oasis. There are hawks out here and occasional tracks in the sand — you don’t know if they were made yesterday or 50 years ago.

Sometimes you see a camel drive — Sudanese, 20 days out of Khartoum and moving for the markets near Sarkarra. Fifty Egyptian pounds for a little one, 100 pounds for a big one (in 1975). Sometimes — a secret moment this, not to be shred with everyone — you can climb a hill and look out over the sands and see a single Bedouin plodding on horseback. Suddenly his head whips up, he forces the horse into a wild gallop, pulls a long curving knife from his side and waving it wildly over his head rushes off screaming into the desert for a mile or more. Then as suddenly as he began, the Beduoin stops, the horse’s head droops again, and they go plodding off as before, having answered some crazy inner urge. This is Egypt too and a very romantic one, but not an Egypt that the traveller will see often or well.

The Valley of the Kings– King Tut and all that — is on the west bank, as are all the tombs. The cities of Egypt are all on the east bank of the Nile, for reasons noted previously.

By keeping these things in mind you should be able to avoid the worst of the traffic.

National Museum, Egypt, where they still rented you flashlights in the 1970s

The next big hit above Luxor is Aswan and the High Dam. Aswan also has a little dam, called imaginatively enough, the low dam. The high dam is the big attraction though. It is nothing much to look at but the Egyptians are quite proud of it. There are signs all over in Russian saying how much the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics has done for this place and the cause of worker freedom everywhere, and there are once in a while some Russians wandering around the bazaars and trying to look inconspicuous.  The Egyptians seem to hate the Russians, and that is all right because the feeling seems to be mutual. One of the things that really bugs the Russians is that here they are in Egypt and they have to communicate with the local folk in English.

The big-deal side trip from Aswan is taking a felucca ride up to the first cataract of the Nile. A felucca is a lateen-rigged boat which is just about the same as the boats the Egyptians used 3,000 years ago when they took the Greek and Roman tourists up the Nile to the first cataract. This was a hairy trip then and is a hairy trip now. Many tourists are put on these boats and one of the things they seldom notice is that the local guides never go along on these trips, because it is much too dangerous.

Nile Cataract

Moving along upriver you come to Abu Simbel. This is an interesting place because there is nothing else there. The only way to get there is by air, and the only airline is Egypt Air– an experience in itself. The plane always leaves late and arrives late but nobody minds because it’s not going anywhere anyway. The approach to the great temple of Abu Simbel, which Rameses II built to celebrate his victory over the Hittites awhile back, is over miles and miles of sand to a concrete runway surrounded by miles and miles of sand.

There is no terminal and no control tower or anything like that, just a concrete runway in the middle of the desert. Egypt-Air lands and there, standing in a forlorn cluster below, are a hundred or so Scandinavians drooping onto the pavement and wrapping shirts over their heads. They have been standing there for hours and saying whatever it is Scandinavians mutter when they are upset. This is a lesson and a warning to all of us: the only way out of Abu Simbel is the way in, and you’d better bring your own camp stool and canteen.

Abu Simbel

There is a village nearby and like much of the rest of Egypt the question of action resolves not on what there is to do around the place at night but what do you do in the daytime. Dying is a big business in these parts and you have to determine early on that what you really came for is tombs and their occupants. This is what everybody has here for — for the past 5,000 years — and is likely to do so for the next.

There are efforts in downtown Cairo, like casinos and such, where girls with the fattest thighs in the world will prance around in parodies of bunny costumes and bring you free drinks while you play penny blackjack with oil sheiks from Kuwait. But if you think that’s just the warmup you’ve had it, because in fact that is it. You have just had the whole ball of wax and the winkle in the widget that makes the works go round.

Better ultimately to sit between the thick legs of Rameses II and stare at the pornographic temple paintings, thinking about what a good time everybody seemed to have before they all dropped dead. “You want to buy a scarab, fella,” a

Temple of Queen Hatsheput, Egypt's only Female Pharaoh

street Arab asks.

“It is actually a dung beetle,” I say, “and the early morning shape of the many forms of the Great God Ra.”

The Arab stares at me for a moment, uncertain to whether he has made contact. “EnshAllah,” he says, who can figure these crazy Americans.

By Bob Schwabach

RONDA, Spain

Originally printed in the Philadelphia Inquirer, June 23, 1974.

The Road to Ronda starts on the Costa del Sol and winds through the Sierra Blanca mountains for 50 kilometers. That’s about 30 miles.

The Bridge to Ronda

A fast driver can make the trip in just under two hours. The road should never, under any circumstances, be taken when wet.

Under normal conditions the trip is a heart stopper. Six-inch high guardrails are placed at random spots to caution the unwary, and occasionally one glances down the thousand-foot drops and sees far below the rusting hulk of some crumpled automobile whose driver just made one mistake.

For mile after mile of baking sun, split rock and scrub growth, one sees no houses, no people. It is a journey from the frenetic resort hotel, night club, go-go, ga-ga, ersatz-flamenco-cafe-world of the Costa del Sol– where half the signs are written in German and English, not Spanish, where hawkers hail you off the street and say, “Hey, buddy! Have your name printed on a bullfight poster. Surprise your friends.”  Where sound trucks tour the streets of Torremolinos, blaring in English: “If you haven’t seen the Tivoli (a nightclub), you haven’t seen the Costa del Sol!” Where  ”The Log Cabin” serves pizza and chicken chow mein; and 50,000 arteriosclerotic geezers stroke out along the beach in striped cabanas and Hawaiian trunks, order another Sangria, and sneer back at the 50,000 teenage hippies who are sneering at them — it is a journey from all that, into old Spain Hardly anyone makes the trip.There are two Americans living in Ronda. There is a Moorish castle, the oldest (and the largest) bull ring in Spain, and one first class hotel, The Queen Victoria, price $9 for a double. (Starts at $118 today (2009)).

The Victoria sits on a cliff overlooking the long low valley where the Romans encamped on their way to the conquest of Spain– near the old Greek City abandoned when the Moors came later. Where the Catholic monarchs Ferdinand and Isabella, encamped with their army and laid siege to the city because it controlled the western road to Granada, there where the Sultan, Grand Viceroy of the Caliph of Bagdad, sat in the Alhambra and was. for a few moments yet, lord of all he surveyed.

The cliff is barren, and so the British, who built the hotel, imported dirt by train from Cadiz 300 miles away and planted pines and English walnuts. Hemingway stayed here, as did the German poet Rilke, the Nobel Prize winner, and novelist James Michener, working out the outline for “Iberia.”

Pepe, the concierge, remembers preparing a room and laying out a suit each September when Hemingway returned to Ronda to attend the commemorative bullfight. The art of the bullfight was developed here, by Pedro Romero at the end of the 18th century, and just before the bullfight he would join with friends in the terraced gardens of the hotel and they would walk down the street to the building where he would take his seat in the president’s box. Many of the Spanish nobility would be there and most of the great toreadors; it is an event of much honor.

Ronda has been a resort for the Spanish nobility for centuries. Many have palaces in the city. At an altitude of 2,400 feet the city is pleasant even in the hottest days of summer, and the nights are always cool.

The air is clear and clean and pours into the lungs’ breath, giving you a desire to walk endlessly through the streets and valleys and mountains around the city.

Ronda, Spain

To say that the setting is spectacular hardly does the situation credit. The city of 34,000 is in effect one large walled fortress, perched on a high bluff over the mountain plain. It is split by a gorge– El Tajo– 3000 feet deep, with the waterfalls and rushing current of the Guadalevin at the bottom. The two halves are connected by the “new Bridge,” built in 1755. It is, in fact, a child’s fantasy of a city– the Spaniards say it is “suspended between Heaven and Earth;” the Romans called it “the roof of the world.”

Of the two Americans who live there now, one is a painter named Sargent and the other a New York banker named Rosenberg, who is currently the talk of the town because he bought up a whole street and built a wall at the end of it so the gypsies can not go by his house on their way ot the market.

A new and lavish restaurant is being built overlooking the gorge. House prices have doubled in the past few months, driven up by speculators expecting an even higher gain soon. The government is planning to build a new road from the coast, replacing the narrow and dangerous one which is the only link now. There is an air of expectation and anxious chatter in the cafes — Ronda is about to be discovered by tourists.

Travel agencies in Germany have already made inquiries with the national tourist board. The local travel agencies in Torremolinos and Marbella are promoting side trips to Ronda. At first the tourists will come from the Costa del Sol. Things have gotten bad on the Costa del Sol, and they are going to get worse.

There are so many hotels that even the tourist board is no longer sure of the number. Yet for every three that exist now a new one is already under construction. Everyone over the age of 12 seems to have an interest in a condominium syndicate.

The “in” crowd favors Marbella now. It is only fantastically touristy, instead of Torremolinos, which is incredibly touristy.

Don Pepe Hotel

Banus

The starlets and the jet setters and the beautiful people stay at the Don Pepe, $30 a night for a single (around $200 in today’s prices -2009.) Or, at the other end of the coast, the Sotogrande, near Cadiz: just a notch below is the Hilton. There are local chains, like the Aloha –which seems very strange to see in Spain, until you realize that a kind of international hotel language has sprung up, and place no longer really matters.

New villages have been created, intentionally very quaint and secluded, like Puerto Jose Banus, where ocean-going yachts maneuver gingerly for space at the docks, and a poorly done fish dinner–unusual for Spain, where the food is almost uniformly superb and possibly the most underrated in Europe– costs $20, a pair of sunglasses $40, a pair of ordinary slacks $90. (In 1974 prices.)

The hotels are their own resorts. Guests swim in the hotel pool, play tennis on the hotel courts, eat and drink in the hotel restaurants and bars, and take the hotel sightseeing buses in the afternoons. After two weeks of this they go home and tell their neighbors about Spain.

This is not theory, it is practice; the hotels, many of them having intimate associations with large travel booking agencies or airlines or both, are built on this premise and history has proven them correct.

Yet the travel posters do not lie. The beaches do stretch endlessly into the distance. The water is warm and really does lap softly and invitingly against the shore.

The sky is an ternal blue bowl and the yellow plains slope up to white mountains in the distance. The breezes are soft and sweet smelling. It is a beautiful land.

An estimated 20-30,000 Americans live on the Costa del Sol more or less permanently.

Along with them are a nearly equal number of North Europeans — British, Scandinavians and Germans — who take up residence for most of the year.

Costa del Sol

They enter a strange sort of metamorphosis — a kind of life stasis– in which the only reality is the eternal sun baking their brians to rice pudding and the constant squint of attempting to focus on hazy horizons. One is impressed by the great number of English bookstores, in a locale that seems otherwise devoted to the growth and culture of bars. It is because there is nothing else to do.

A chance conversation is struck up with an American woman of about 60. She has been living near Marbella for 15 years. Like nearly all other American residents in Spain, she speaks no Spanish.

Her first question is in line with what you are soon asked by other expatriates: “Do you have any paperback mystery novels with you?” When the answer was no, she gives a sigh of despair, loses interest, and stares into the distance again.

At the other end of the age spectrum a different symptom of the same disease manifests itself. A young man from New Orleans is met in a sidewalk cafe, meticulously arranging precise squares of empty San Miguel beer bottles.

“New Orleans, hug? Hey man, watch ya doing here,” I say, dropping easily into the local patois.

“Im just getting my gig together — ya dig, man?”

Right.

Nine hours later, walking by the same sidewalk cafe, the same guy from New Orleans is sitting at the same table, the careful squares of beer bottles now extending outwards, something like a man made coral reef, into other, neighboring tables.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” I ask.

“I’m jsut getting my gig together,” he says predictably. “Ya dig?’

Later, down at the beach of Torremolinos, an American from Kansas is standing on the narrow promenade looking out at the scene. Knowing, from having spoken a bit earlier, that I had lived here once for a long time, he looks out over the

Ronda, Spain

golden-brown beach, the lapping surf, the clear cloudless sky, the limp half-naked bodies of draped heavies and lithe beautiful young girls with carefully ironed hair — all equally suffering through the final stages of terminal ennui– and smiles contentedly.

“Tell me,” he asks, “is it always like this?”

“Yes,” I answer truthfully. “Always.”

Louis “Bent Finger Lou” Monacello

South Philadelphia mob associate Louis “Bent Finger Lou” Monacello pleaded guilty to gambling and obstruction of justice charges in Delaware County Common Pleas Court this morning.

The charges against Monacello grew out of a Pennsylvania State Police investigation dubbed “Operation Delco Nostra.”

By George Anastasia

Inquirer Staff Writer

He used a restaurant in Newark, N.J., as a front for a cocaine-distribution network.

He traveled to New York City to oversee a $1,000-an-hour call-girl ring.

He had a witness killed in one drug case and hired a hit man to rub out another.

Associated Press

The Associated Press offered a superficial glance at a complex and alarming update in the upcoming trial of the five 9/11 defendants,  leaving me to wonder where is their thoughtful, penetrating examination of this judicial travesty about to take place in New York City. There is certainly no shortage of critical questions in want of answers.

The AP reported Sunday that the five 9/11 defendants to be tried in New York City will not deny their role in the terrorist attacks of Sept. 11, 2001, but will nonetheless be pleading “not guilty.” This, to me, initially seemed a sure sign that the defense attorney feels compelled to observe no ethical responsibilities to the American judicial system as his clients attempt to put U.S. foreign policy on trial.

9/11 defense attorney Scott Fenstermaker

The attorney assigned to defend the five terrorists on trial, Scott Fenstermaker, reported Sunday that all five of his clients are also planning to use the “stage” they are given to deliver their radical Jihadist message and explain why they believe more Americans must die. The Obama Administration can’t say they weren’t warned – again, and again, and again.

There is the possibility that Fenstermaker has chosen the path of least resistance in representing his clients, for the sake of self-preservation.  There can be no doubt this case will have a significant impact on his career – for better or worse. But what we may perceive during this trial as over-zealous representation may be the actions of a defense attorney caught between the rock of the American justice system and the hard place of representing hardened terrorists who would stop at nothing to continue their mission against America.

Either way, Attorney General Eric Holder and the Obama Administration, which pulls his strings, opted to take great risks with a trial in our civilian judicial system, and for no clear, justifiable reason.  Even if the trial concludes without incident, the results would not justify the risk. If it does not go without incident, the results could be catastrophic.

Holder’s defense to the outrage following the announcement of the trial in NYC was weak, aloof and dismissive of the true weight of his choice.

“I have every confidence that the nation and the world will see him for the coward that he is,” Holder said. “I’m not scared of what Khalid Sheikh Mohammed has to say at trial, and no one else needs to be, either.”

The blatant arrogance and ignorance exhibited by the Obama Administration and Holder is of far less concern than the wider implications to our judicial system. Merely saying that these five terrorists will have the same rights as any other American defendant in our court system doesn’t begin to convey the realities of the situation in which our justice system has been placed.

John Yoo, a columnist with the Philadelphia Inquirer and law professor at the University of California, Berkeley, made up for the AP’s lack of insight on the trial when he wrote extensively on the disaster about to unfold:

“…the positive benefits [of a civilian trial] remain obscure to the point of vanishing. All that is known for certain are the heavy costs:

Giving Mohammed and his fellow terrorists the same constitutional rights as any U.S. citizen accused of a crime risks our nation’s most vital intelligence secrets. Mohammed can demand that the government turn over all of its information on him and tell him how it was acquired or it risks a mistrial or acquittal. Soviet moles like Aldrich Ames and Robert Hanssen used the same tactic to bargain the government down from the death penalty. Ordinarily, such information does not harm the public because the crime has already been committed. But the release of intelligence during hostilities can be disastrous when it informs the enemy of our knowledge, capabilities, and intentions.”

He went on to say:

“This red herring [Holder’s statement] distracts from the administration’s failure to explain why the benefits of using civilian courts outweigh the costs to the war effort. It certainly doesn’t help those who are already protected by the Bill of Rights and can be tried in civilian courts. If anything, their rights are at risk, not just by a failure to convict terrorists who killed almost 3,000 people, but by the inevitable judicial compromises that must balance the requirements of a fair public trial with the demands of protecting wartime secrets. Those compromises will no longer be limited to the special context of military courts in wartime, but will become part of the law that governs all Americans.”

Until the trial concludes, Americans will be forced to hold their breath and hope the Obama/Holder decision doesn’t cost us all a great deal in life and/or liberties.

The Web site for the Inquirer and Daily News, philly.com, recently launched its mobile Web site.

One would think media outlets in large markets — such as Philadelphia — would be ahead of the curve in mobile technology. However, as in many aspects of life, Philadelphia is trying. We’re one step closer with philly.com’s mobile Web site.

Before the launch, mobile users viewed the regular Web site for the Philadelphia Inquirer and the Philadelphia Daily News on mobile devices. While it’s fairly navigable on a computer’s Internet browser, philly.com was not so easy to navigate with an oversized finger.

As with many mobile sites, not everything found on the regular site is accessible on the mobile philly.com. For example, you cannot separate what appeared in the Inquirer or Daily News on the home page — you’ll find out by the article’s byline. But with larger links and quicker loading, it’s a welcome sacrifice for an easier way to get Philly news on the go.

Fox 29 is the only other local media outlet in the city to have a mobile site, though it’s bare and doesn’t offer links comparable to what you’d see on myfoxphilly.com. NBC10, however, does have a free iPhone application, the first of the market. But I still ask — where are the rest of Philly’s local news iPhone apps?

I appreciate the work of those at philly.com — I have no experience in creating mobile sites, let alone regular Web sites (hat tip to WordPress), and I’m sure much work goes into producing a mobile equivalent of a hefty Web site. Bare with them as they work out kinks, and I recommend following them on Twitter (@phillydotcom, @PhillyDailyNews, @PhillyInquirer) for continuing updates.

Not long after my trip to Italy & France with Heather and Michele, my mom told me that I should submit a story about our experience to the travel section of the Philadelphia Inquirer. So like a good little daughter I followed her advice…and they published it! YAY! See, mom is always right. Check it out here!

And because I can’t post without at least one photo, here’s my favorite of me and the girls, taken in Cinque Terre.

Well, it happened.  The Phillies staved off elimination in the World Series against the Yankees.  Barely before the dust from the fireworks had settled in the parking lot of Citizens Bank Park the transportation workers’ union did the inevitable, they started to strike.

They strike is based on struggling contract negotiations.  I’ll let the Philadelphia Inquirer explain fully:

Rendell said the union chose to walk away from an “excellent” contract offer that includes 11 percent in wage increases over five years, and 11 percent increase in pension contributions, and no increases in workers’ contribution for health care.

“Think about that,” Rendell said. “Whose pension has been increased in this day and age?”

According to TWU officials, SEPTA management has proposed no wage increase for the first two years of a four-year contract and a 2 percent increase in each of the final two years. It also wanted to increase worker contributions to health coverage from 1 percent to 4 percent and freeze the level of pension benefits.

The union wants a 4 percent raise each year and health contributions to remain 1 percent. It is also seeking an increase in pension contributions from $75 to $100 for every year of service.

The TWU also is seeking changes in subcontracting and training provisions to allow members to do maintenance and repair work on buses and trolleys now done by outside contractors.

SEPTA’s 5,100 unionized bus drivers, subway and trolley operators earn from $14.54 to $24.24 an hour, reaching the top rate after four years. Mechanics earn $14.40 to $27.59 an hour.

I am a huge public transportation advocate and I have made a point on this blog in the past about treating transit workers with respect.  However, I find this strike rather distasteful.  First off, in a city and region that depends on transit you need to give riders greater warning than just walking off the job at 3am.  If you want respect you need to give it back.

Moreover, while transit employees work hard and deserve a living wage, they also do not have any real fungible skills or training.  The $24.40 an hour they can earn after four years (equivalent to $48,480 a year on a 40-hour work week) seems perfectly appropriate given the position.  Two people earning that salary can more than support a full family in Philadelphia.

The healthcare, wage and pension expectations seem plain greedy when 10% of the country cannot find employment at all and many of their riders are working overtime just to make ends meet.  Most importantly, the union is bargaining with a semi-public agency, not a multi-billion dollar publicly held company.  SEPTA is not trying to gouge its workers, rather just trying to make ends meet on an already stretched budge.

This strike needs to end soon, it is not good for any of the parties involved.

Today, The Philadelphia Inquirer “mistakenly” ran a Macy’s ad congratulating the Philadelphia Phillies on winning back-to-back World Series titles. If you follow baseball, which I’m assuming if you’re a Philly resident (unless you’re living under a rock) you do, you would be aware that the Phillies (as of 11/2) are in fact behind in the series 3-1 to the New York Yankees.

If it was me, even if the paper in question was the Oregonian or some other publication two plus time-zones away from Philadelphia; I would be embarrassed to be associated with a media group that would make such a colossal mistake.

When I stumbled upon this article in the Main Line Times I couldn’t believe what I was reading. How is it possible that a 3/4 page ad on the back of the front section solely dedicated to selling a congratulatory championship t-shirt to a team that in all likeliness will lose the series made it into print? I don’t know who is in charge of overseeing and editing the layout of advertisements at the Inquirer, but I think whoever it is deserves a talking to.

Said premature advertisement.

We all know the newspaper industry is fighting to keep its head above water; am I wrong in thinking that because of this fact editors should be doing a bang up job of monitoring the few ads that they still have left? Perhaps this is just a poor attempt by the Inquirer to gain more national coverage and interest in their publication? Maybe I’m reading too far into this and it was really just was a simple mistake?

Either way, figure it out Inquirer! It’s not like you missed fact-checking a date in some hard-hitting in-depth news  story where only 1% of your readers would recognize the mistake. You missed correcting a 3/4 page ad on an event that close to the entire roughly 6 million residents in your city are currently focused on. Where have journalistic standards gone? Will they ever return?

In the Philadelphia Inquirer today, David Patrick Stearns reviews the premiere of Two Laudate Psalms:

… natural, un-ostentatious simplicity. Close inspection revealed subtle deviations in its agreeable melodiousness that never allowed the ear to slip into a mental autopilot that comes with having heard like-minded pieces.… The God-is-in-the-details adage holds true… The music’s spiritual conviction was amplified by these near-invisible touches.

Read the entire review here.

...for now.

At least the Phillies are taking Amtrak.

If history is any indication, there’s probably going to be a transit strike. SEPTA’s largest union, TWU Local 234, is threatening a walk-out that could leave thousands of commuters stranded.

@SEPTA has released two seemingly unrelated “news” stories on its Web site — “World Series Information” and “Service Interruption Guide.”

The “World Series Information” article lists important details about service to and from the World Series games, including increased local service in addition to Sports Express trains running every 10 minutes. This is fantastic and really shows SEPTA’s commitment to getting you to the games, until you read the next article…

The “Service Interruption Guide,” which makes no reference to the World Series article (and visa versa), suggests the following:

• Take Regional Rail.
• Alter your work schedule to avoid peak-hour trains.
• Redeem your Trans/TrailPass if necessary.

Broad Street does have sidewalks extending from City Hall to Citizens Bank Park. Estimated travel time (walking): 50 minutes.

Just like back in 2005, SEPTA and TWU Local 234 have locked themselves in a hotel (the Old City Holiday Inn) to hash out a new contract, conveniently just in time for Philadelphia to be on the national stage for the World Series. The union has been without a contract since the spring. At the core of the negotiations, similar to 2005: wages, benefits and pensions.

This time, though, both parties have new negotiators at the top. TWU spokesperson Robert Wolper, perhaps mimicking an old, popular SEPTA slogan (knowingly or unknowingly), said in reference to negotiations, “We’re getting there. Slowly.”

According to the Philadelphia Inquirer, SEPTA is hesitant to dish more money to the union since ridership is down (it reached a peak last year when gas prices jumped), state/federal funding is questionable and operating costs are rising.

The union has set a deadline for Saturday at 12:01 a.m., but a strike could occur before that, the article said.

A strike would affect most city bus routes (except LUCY and CCT Connect/Paratransit), trolleys and subways. Regional Rail will be operating normally, yet with an expected increase in passengers.

Temple University and the University of Pennsylvania are providing shuttles to students, faculty and staff should the strike happen, similar to their plans in 2005. Both universities also encourage carpooling.

For a thoughtful reminder of the 2005 strike, check out The Temple News’ award winning coverage, to which I was proud to contribute:

• Transit workers walk off the job
• Commuters crowd Broad Street shuttles
• Emergency plans put into action
• Dean briefs TSG on transit options

But the all-important question: Will the popular “SEPTA Race to Citizens Bank Park” air at the World Series?

John Alite, formerly of Cherry Hill, is providing insight on individuals, including a hit victim.

By George Anastasia

Inquirer Staff Writer

South Philadelphia mob associate John “Johnny Gongs” Casasanto was angling to join New York’s Gambino crime family in 2002, but a bullet to the back of the head short-circuited that career move.

None other than John Gotti Jr. backed Casasanto, 35, who hoped to get “straightened out” – formally initiated – after befriending the mob boss while they were inmates in a federal detention center in New York state, according to a key government witness.

The Casasanto-Gotti connection has been described by mob informant John Alite, the prosecution’s star witness in the ongoing racketeering trial of Gotti Jr. in federal court in New York City.