parents: Philadelphia Metropolis

This Old House

By Rachel Levy Lesser» I grew up in a house built my grandparents. The new construction was complete in 1967, and it was distinctively theirs. The 6-foot bathtub and extra high counter tops were designed by and for my 6-foot-4 grandfather. The art studio complete with a science-like lab sink and oversized slots for canvases was what my grandmother, the budding artist, had always wanted. It wasn't their house for as long as they would have hoped. After my grandfather died suddenly, my grandmother wanted nothing more of their dream home in Yardley. She moved to New York City where she could be near the art and culture that she craved. This left my young parents in a precarious position. They had outgrown our small ranch (Comments)

Born to Boycott

By Janet Golden» Not so long ago I emailed a close friend an article that revealed her favorite line of yoga wear, Lululemon, came from a company that promoted the works of Ayn Rand. I expected her to be grateful for the news and, since she is a good left political activist, to thank me for alerting her so she'd never shop there again. Instead she asked: "Why did you have to tell me that?" I was shocked at her response. But then, I come from a boycotting family. Growing up in Southern California we boycotted all things John Birch Society. No Russell Stover candy ever passed my lips. As my mother taught me, Mrs. Stover gave money to the Birchers. (Comments)

A New Wave of Street Gangs

Though law enforcement officials don't like to talk about it, there is strong evidence of a new wave of street gangs in Philadelphia, "greedy, better armed and more prolific" than the famous street gangs who made headlines in 1960's and 70's. In this special report, reporter Frank Rubino reveals the extent and nature of these new-wave gangs, beginning with the Six-O Posse that operates in West Philadelphia. (Comments)

New-Wave Street Gangs: Armed and Violent

Longtime anti-crime activist Greg Bucceroni wears a three-inch-long scar on his forehead, a souvenir from the June 5, 2008 evening when more than a dozen members of the heroin-dealing "Bart Simpson" gang - named after the brand of dope they peddled - backed him against a concrete wall in West Kensington. Bucceroni wore a blue polo shirt inscribed with the words, Philadelphia Police Youth At-Risk Program that night as he walked toward the home of a troubled teenage boy he was mentoring. (Comments)

My Declaration of Independence

Best of VoxPop» It is no coincidence that I now live only a few blocks from Independence Hall. When I was a toddler, I was determined to do everything by myself, so my grandfather dubbed me the Declaration of Independence. The name still suits me. To appreciate this, you need to know that I am legally blind. That means that I have minimal sight in one eye and none in the other, and no depth perception. While I can get around without the assistance of either a guide dog or a white cane, I can't read street signs or facial expressions, and I hold printed matter inches from my eyes to read it. You will be relieved to learn that the state of Pennsylvania, in its wisdom, will not grant me a driver's license. (Comments)