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Dave Chen
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Urban Resident
Urban Resident

168 followers
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The beginning of a gripping saga from Amy L, one that could easily (and sort of has) happened on my own porch.  I've had a sneak peek at the future episodes... it's quite the story....

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“Wait, you live there?” he asked, a lit­tle incredulous.
“Yes…”
“Do you know what kind of area that is?”
“Yes,” I repeated myself, try­ing to sup­press a smile. “It is… dan­ger­ous.” I stopped smiling.
His expres­sion became sharper. “Do you have kids?”
“Um, no.”
“Are you married?”
“Um, no.”
“Oh, okay. You’re expend­able then.” I didn’t really know how to respond to that.

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‎"A short drive from South Philly and Cam­den and mid­way between New York and Wash­ing­ton, Wilm­ing­ton man­aged to snag the num­ber one spot on our list for high­est rate of vio­lent crimes per 100,000 peo­ple. And while the over­all state of Delaware ranked mod­er­ately well in the peace index (which looked at fac­tors such as police per capita, per­cent­age of pop­u­la­tion behind bars and access to small arms), Wilm­ing­ton came in the top spot for sex offend­ers per capita."

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"In the heated national debate on con­sti­tu­tion­al­ity, guns, and vio­lence, there is much talk about lib­erty, defense, and rights. But there is lit­tle talk about the lay­ing down of our enti­tle­ments, of redemp­tion through suf­fer­ing, of the knowl­edge and exal­ta­tion of Jesus Christ. And yet, what else can we hope for in this world of ter­rors? From where else will we derive our joy?"

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"I was con­vinced that I had nearly been the vic­tim of a mugging/jumping/car-jacking. After all, why did he stop rap­ping? Why did he cross halfway into the street to show up behind me… only to cross back onto the same side­walk? I eagerly told the story to my col­leagues, feel­ing mixed emo­tions and motives. Part of me wanted to val­i­date my the­ory, but a larger part wanted to boast about the expe­ri­ence. It seemed rather sen­sa­tional and yet I had escaped unharmed."

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Note: If you like/read this, please like/share so that others can too! This post is truly an amazing story in my life, especially for any of you who knew me back in middle school.
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“Who are you going to jump?” I asked sharply. “Look me in the eye and tell me.”

He couldn’t do it. We kept talk­ing in cir­cles, get­ting more and more frus­trated. There was big talk ear­lier about it, about band­ing together with friends to beat up some kid....

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Guest post from a new friend about her experiences living in North Philly:
"Peo­ple tell me I shouldn’t walk by myself in the dark in the city, let alone the inner city. Peo­ple often express con­cern for my safety, and occa­sion­ally express anger about my deci­sion to move to North Philadel­phia. One of my rebut­tals would be, “Well, it’s not like I’m walk­ing around by myself at night.” Oops."

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‎"I'm fairly certain that my breakfast was stolen by the Dunkachino Kid. There were plenty of other suspicious elements to support this: I did not recall him waiting in line before or after me; he was alone; he did not check the order himself; his speech and actions seemed unusually rigid and rehearsed; so on and so forth. In the end, perhaps it was all an innocent error. But even if it was not, he wouldn't have been the first to try and swindle me so boldly and under the pretense of innocence..."

http://www.theurbanresident.com/2013/01/11/dunkachino-deception/

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“W-right.”  She turned her head to grin at us, and I couldn’t stop smiling.  We were all lying on exercise mats in the therapy rooms because, as the therapist taught us, we could use “gwavity” to help roll those “r’s” better.  I was sure she was one of the therapist’s favorite patients: diligent, focused, and with a personality composed entirely of laughter and light.  In less than fifteen minutes, through listening to her “chawming pwonun-sheation,” I had already named her as a favorite.  Few of my little patients were as mature, knowledgeable, and thrillingly articulate at the dignified age of seven.

And in that moment, I thought about the Newtown massacre and the fact that there must have been precious little difference between any of those children and this young girl who was now sprinkling glitter on a craft snowman, that even the best and brightest of us still live in that same world of terrors.

http://www.theurbanresident.com/2013/01/01/on-hop/

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Guest post from author DM in North Philly! Awesome post!

"Since moving in, I’ve had neighbors
- come and introduce themselves and welcome me to the block
- help me break into my own house when the lock was stuck, then
- scold me for not asking for help moving a shelf
- give me a hand-crayoned ‘welcome to our block’ card,
- feed me dinner, several times
- knock on my door at midnight to let me know a light was on in my car
- salt my top step and shovel my walkway and sidewalk
- put out my trash for me and bring my trash can back in from the sidewalk too."
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