We spent the afternoon at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. If you've ever seen Rocky, you know the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Rocky runs up the front steps, then jumps around and pumps his fists into the air, all proud of himself. Gonna Fly Now, indeed.Well, my children have never seen Rocky. We've never talked about Rocky. We've never described the steps of the Art Museum as the "Rocky Steps." We've never even talked about Sylvester Stallone. When it comes to Rocky, the kids are a complete blank slate. The film may as well not exist.
Nonetheless, as we stepped outside for some fresh air after lunch, the kids insisted on walking down the stairs... and then running up them, Rocky-style.
This suggests that Rocky is not merely passed along, parent-to-child, via video transmission or oral history. No, man... this shit is in the air. It has possessed the City of Philadelphia, fused itself with the spirit of the place. You can't visit the Art Museum and not run up the fuckin' steps.
Next time you're in Philly, try it. Stand at the bottom of Eakins Oval and look up. Feel your leg muscles twitch. Your stomach spasm in anticipation. Your blood start to run hot...
And pretty soon, you'll be at the top, pumping your fists in the air, all proud of your damn self.
Sometimes, I really do love this crazy city.
(Photo by The Bride. Click on the image to appreciate the full splendor.)
