A Million Stories

About 200 people came to Independence Hall on Saturday to participate in Philly's second "Tea Party" protest. The demonstrators waved American flags, and carried signs reading "We need a Christian president," and "The Real Pirates are in D.C." When talk show host Dom Giordano called out for "radical right wing extremists," the crowd applauded proudly, and stabbed signs in the air.

In the midst of the self-proclaimed extremists was Daily News columnist Christine Flowers, who stepped to the podium wearing a green, yellow and black striped blouse, with brown slacks and sunshades. "We're always told that speaking our minds is the truest form of patriotism," she began.

Flowers said she opposed President Obama's tax plans, and expressed little sympathy for those struggling to pay rents or mortgages. "People who can't afford housing should not affect the population who can," she said. "Is it justified to tax the rich? This is class warfare and it's unjustified and counterproductive. [The Obama administration is] giving cuts to people who don't even pay taxes." The crowd cheered. "We need to be rewarding productivity, and not giving handouts to those who do nothing but complain."

Flowers came around to a conclusion. "We are ALL Americans," she said, somewhat arbitrarily. "We are in this together."

- Taara Savage-El

The makeshift crafts table is covered with crayons, glitter pens and stencils, but few of the guests at Project H.O.M.E.'s "winter respite," a temporary shelter used mostly by women with mental health problems, seem interested.

A former resident named Eileen, however, sits down with a big sheet of paper. Using a blue magic marker, she sketches what looks like an angel but turns out to be a Mummer with an elaborate costume. She fills it in with glitter and then glues on blue feathers.

Eileen's a bit of a legend around here. Her drawings sprinkle all the walls upstairs. Growing up, she used to win prizes for her art without ever having taken an art lesson.

Now Maura O'Brien, the respite coordinator, takes Eileen's drawing and hangs it up. The respite will close for the season soon, and O'Brien does what she can to brighten the mood.

Suddenly, we're under attack. I never look up — just stare at the gun jammed in my stomach. One guy demands my wallet. His partner shouts, "He's got a gun!" The small silver pistol jams into me again, and I give up my wallet. My phone and keys go next, along with my friend's purse. They tell us to get the fuck out of there. I hail a taxi and tell the driver what happened, but he won't let us call 911 and drives off. Another cab stops and lets us phone the police, who arrive minutes later. By this time, the two men have disappeared into the Friday night Old City crowd, along with almost all of our possessions. As the adrenaline wears off, I start to get scared.

-Ptah Gabrie