earlier this month, rach and i were helping rebuild a dilapidated house in west philly as part a wharton community outreach program (a la habitat for humanity). it's been an interesting experience. on one hand it's been great to finally, after 41 years, get my hands dirty and use some tools (uh, has anyone ever heard of a circular saw? j/k). but on the other hand, it's a bit weird because the family we're helping just sits around doing nothing as all the volunteers do all the work around them.
at one point a volunteer named willy (the cousin of wally, another volunteer) and I were installing a new floor in the kitchen, and one of the family's teenage boys walked into the kitchen, turned on the gas stove, lit his cigarette, and then walked back out to the porch to hang out with his 'hood friends. willy and I looked at each other, shook our heads, and continued on with the floor. wtf?
anyway, rach just send me a news alert about a murder in west philly... yep, on the exact same block where our little dilapidated house is located.
needless to say, we shan't be going back there again.
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