The Israelite School of Universal Practical Knowledge and their bullhorn-aided rhetoric may be the bane of my existence, but in a country where freedom of speech is more imperiled than ever, I salute them.
I’ve always been a big fan of spring.
We as Americans tend to talk reverently about spring because it’s seen as a time of renewal. Flowers bloom. It’s baseball season. Heavy coats give way to jean jackets and cardigan sweaters. Everything feels new.
Now, every city has it’s signs of spring. In Washington, D.C., it’s the cherry blossoms. You can smell the magnolias in Charleston, South Carolina. In my family’s home state of Kentucky, spring means shopping for just the right hat to wear to Louisville for the Kentucky Derby.
But, I think that in light of the Trump administration’s attacks on reporters for, well, reporting and the fact that there’s a woman looking at a year in jail for laughing during a confirmation hearing, the way that I know it’s springtime in Philadelphia takes on a little more relevance.
That’s because my sign of spring, believe it or not, involves watching a group of ornately dressed men yell their interpretations of Bible verses at me through a megaphone attached to a speaker as I walk by.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, for me, springtime in Philadelphia begins with an encounter with the Hebrew Israelites. Or, to be more exact, the men of the Israelite School Of Universal Practical Knowledge…