Ernest P. Richards, 85, of Philadelphia, lifelong urban cowboy, musician, singer, building contractor, mentor, veteran, and volunteer, died Monday, Jan. 12, of cancer at the Philadelphia VA Medical Center.
Mr. Richards fell in love with horses when he was a youth in South Philadelphia and went on to own four of his own: Lucky, Jaheel, Pretty Girl, and Dancer. He became an expert in horsemanship and grooming, and dressed daily in cowboy hats, bolo ties, and western boots. He shined his collection of saddles as brightly as any car in the neighborhood.
“He loved animals, period,” said his wife, Sheila, “and horses are strong. He liked that.”
Over the years, Mr. Richards adorned his mounts in colors that matched his eye-catching outfits and rode in parades, on local trails, and elsewhere around the city and South Jersey. He started out supervising 25-cent pony rides at a farm in South Philadelphia as a teenager and later stabled his horses most often at a farm near the Cowtown Farmers Market in Pilesgrove Township, Salem County.
Mr. Richards was known for his distinctive western attire.
He became such a good rider, and his horses were so expressive, his family said, that he often led other concrete cowboys in holiday parades on Broad and 52nd Streets. “He was the star of the show,” said his daughter Passion. “My dad was sharp.”
Mr. Richards enjoyed watching John Wayne westerns and the TV show Bonanza, and he took his family on a memorable trip to a rodeo in Maryland. He taught his children, grandchildren, and anyone else who was interested how to safely ride and care for horses.
Out of the saddle, Mr. Richards was a gifted singer and guitar player. He formed a band, Fire and Rain, after he returned to Philadelphia from two years in the Army, and they played at the Apollo Theater in New York and at clubs all over Philadelphia for decades.
He specialized in love songs and covered many made popular by Teddy Pendergrass and Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes. “He was a romantic,” his wife said.
Mr. Richards (right) was an accomplished singer and guitar player.
He also had an eye for design and beauty, and a knack for construction. He built decks, repaired roofs, refurbished basements, and raised other buildings, sometimes from the ground up.
He constructed a barn and stalls for the horse farm he frequented in Salem County, and mentored young men in West Philadelphia who wanted to learn the construction skills he had picked up from his mentors and while in the Army.
“He loved to beautify things,” his wife said. “He was a beautiful person.”
Ernest Patrick Richards was born Feb. 25, 1940, in Philadelphia. He graduated from Edward Bok Technical High School in 1958 and spent two years in the Army.
Mr. Richards often dressed his horse to match his oufit when they rode in parades.
He met singer Sheila Sampson when she auditioned to sing with Fire and Rain, and they married in 1985 and had daughters Passion, Keshia, Tammy, and Sparkle. He also had daughters Jackie G., Jackie J., and Crystal. Jackie G. and Crystal died earlier.
Mr. Richards played basketball for years and whiled away many evenings strumming his guitar and singing songs around the house. He adored his family, they said, and attended the Church of Christian Compassion. “He was inspirational about his love of God,” his wife said. “He was all about family and faith.”
He had a hearty laugh, his daughters said, and tolerated no nonsense, his wife said. He helped anybody who needed anything at any time, they all said.
He valued independence and knew how to fix cars and home appliances. A friend said online that he had “a heart of gold” and was “an earth angel.” His nephew and nieces said he kept them “laughing and on our toes, teaching us great life lessons and how to repair anything.”
Mr. Richards was an expert builder.
Mr. Richards liked flashy western wear, and his wife nicknamed him Richie Rich because he dressed so snazzy. “He was never judgmental,” said his granddaughter Najzhay. “He was always offering help. He was truly my favorite person and the best cowboy.”
“He was funny,” said his daughter Passion. “He could light up a room. His presence demanded respect. He was the center of our everything.”
His daughter Sparkle said: “He was a great teacher and our best friend.”
On his 85th birthday last year, Mr. Richards told his family: “All my blessings are right here in this room. I’m so grateful, eternally grateful.”
Mr. Richards (rear, third from left) enjoyed time with his family.
In addition to his wife, daughters, and granddaughter, Mr. Richards is survived by five other grandchildren, two great-grandsons, and other relatives. A brother and a sister died earlier.
A celebration of his life was held Thursday, Jan. 22.
By the time Taylor Schuler finally freed their car, they were exhausted. It had taken five hours across two days, hacking at the wall of ice encasing their Prius’ bumper, shoveling piles of frozen snow off the tires, to complete the job. As the sun set on their afternoon of labor, they were tempted to put a piece of furniture in their hard-earned spot, a practice sometimes known as “savesies” in Philadelphia.
But they knew better. Having just moved to Philly from Houston, the 28-year-old academic librarian wasn’t all that familiar with cold-weather etiquette, so they took to the internet ahead of January’s snowstorm to figure out what exactly Philly’s rules are. They gathered that people weren’t all that fond of the “savesies” practice, so, tempted as they were to hold onto their spot, they let it go.
Once the spot was cleared, theycircled the block, a quick trip to make sure their car was still working. Their internet research had also led them to believe no one would just take their spot immediately. As they rounded the corner toward their house, though, they saw another driver lurch into the spot they just spent hours digging out.
“Oh jeez,” Schuler thought to themselves. “It’s like the Wild West out here.”
In some snow-burdened cities, saving a shoveled-out parking spot is a deeply ingrained winter habit. Boston even formally acknowledges the practice by allowing residents to mark a spot they dug out for up to 48 hours after a storm. In Chicago, protecting your precious dug-out parking space with a lawn chair is called “dibs,” and it’s been a beloved and widely accepted tradition since the great blizzard of 1967.
But Philadelphia exists in a murkier middle ground. Until about two weeks ago, it snowed infrequently enough and melted fast enough that any theory about our collective approach to storm parking was never really put to the test. But the lingering snow has revealed a kind of civic chaos, with neighbors operating under wildly different assumptions and fights breaking out over who is entitled to snow-cleared parking spots.
The divide is often generational. Older residents, who experienced harsher winters, are more likely to embrace savesies as another classic Philly tradition while younger residents and transplants see it as territorial nonsense, out of step with the values of densely populated city life.
Schuler finds the entire debate exhausting. “I just want to be able to go to work and come home,” they said. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
Connor Phan digs his car out after the recent snowstorm.
Jeff Martin, 43, who lives in South Philly, describes himself as firmly “no savesies” but with caveats. He won’t put out a chair. He won’t defend one. But he also won’t move someone else’s. “I don’t believe in the chair,” Martin said. “But I’m going to obey the chair.” His reasons are entirely practical. “I don’t want to get keyed,” he said.
Martin argues Philadelphia’s parking wars are a symptom of the changing climate. “The fact that over the last 20 years, we haven’t gotten as much snow as we did over the previous 20 years has made us forget how to deal with it,” he said, “and the city forget how to deal with it to the point where they don’t properly fund the removal of snow.”
For the record, the city is firmly in the “#nosavesies” camp, and the police routinely remind Philadelphians that saving parking spots is illegal. Of course, that doesn’t stop people from doing it — and other people complaining about it.
Lucas Tran didn’t see the cinderblock in the spot he parked in on Tuesday night. It wasn’t until another driver pulled up and told him that he was in her spot that he became aware of it. She said she had dug out the spot herself, saved it with the cinderblock, and that Tran had to move.
At first, he refused. But he backed down after she called him a liar and a “little b—.” He didn’t want things to escalate. The next day, she left a handwritten apology on his car. “Thank you for moving your car,” it read. “You are NOT a little b—.”
Tran takes a “special exception” approach to the savesies debate. If the woman had been elderly or a first responder, or if it had been two or three days after the storm rather than a full week later, he might have been more understanding. “But the roads are drivable now, he said. “There are more options to park. You can’t keep claiming a spot that’s public property.”
Back in West Philly, Schuler spent the week parking wherever they could. The spot they dug out remained occupied until one evening, when they pulled up, excited to reclaim what was once theirs — only to find a folding table balanced on two overturned pots in their way. Someone had “savesied” Schuler’s spot.
Schuler snapped a photo and uploaded it to Reddit, where the response was nearly unanimous. As one Redditor put it, “that’s diabolical.”
It was the one version of “savesies” Schuler had never seen defended. “If there’s anything people agree on,” they said, “it’s that you don’t do that.”
Noam Chomsky, the Philadelphia-born and educated intellectual, told Jeffrey Epstein to “ignore” negative media attention as the disgraced financier was being accused of abusing women and girls, emails recently released by the U.S. Department of Justice show.
“Noam. I d love your advice on how I handle my putrid press. its is spiraling out of control,” Epstein wrote in an email dated Feb. 23, 2019. Epstein then asked Chomsky if he should “defend myself” or “try to ignore.”
In a response purportedly from Chomsky, the famed linguistics professor advised Epstein “the best way to proceed is to ignore it” and “not to react unless directly questioned.” Chomsky drew parallels to his own experience with “hysterical accusations of all sorts,” writing, “I pay no attention, unless I’m approached for a comment on a specific matter.”
“What the vultures dearly want is a public response, which then provides a public opening for an onslaught of venomous attacks, many from just publicity seekers or cranks of all sorts,” the email said. “That’s particularly true now with the hysteria that has developed about abuse of women, which has reached the point that even questioning a charge is a crime worse than murder.”
Chomsky’s wife and spokesperson, Valeria Chomsky, did not immediately respond to an email from The Inquirer seeking comment.
In a statement posted on social media, Valeria Chomsky said the couple was “careless in not thoroughly researching [Epstein’s] background,” calling it a “grave mistake.” She apologized for the couple’s “lapse in judgement.” Noam Chomsky, who is 97, suffered a massive stroke in 2023 and is unable to speak, according to the statement.
On behalf of Valeria & Noam Chomsky I am sharing this letter of Valéria Chomsky.
She writes with total transparency about Noam's stroke, the specific context of their interactions with Jeffrey Epstein, and the deep regret they both carry regarding that “lapse in judgment.”… pic.twitter.com/qdg22p0Y0M
The statement said the couple did not know the extent of the allegations against Epstein until his 2019 arrest, and cautioned that the men’s emails should be “read in context.”
“Epstein created a manipulative narrative about his case, which Noam, in good faith, believed in,” the statement read. “It is now clear that it was all orchestrated, having as, at least, one of Epstein’s intentions to try to have someone like Noam help repair Epstein’s reputation by association.”
Noam Chomsky has appeared in other batches of the Epstein files. In her statement, Valeria Chomsky — whose name and emails were also among the more than three million documents released — said her husband and Epstein were introduced in 2015. When asked in 2023 about his relationship with Epstein by the Wall Street Journal, Noam Chomsky replied, “First response is that it is none of your business. Or anyone’s. Second is that I knew him and we met occasionally.”
Noam Chomsky was born in Philadelphia’s East Oak Lane neighborhood, attended Central High School, and earned his undergraduate and graduate degrees from the University of Pennsylvania. Considered the founder of modern linguistics and one of the most cited scholars, he is celebrated for his research and influential political activism.
Some yarn shops around Philadelphia are running low on skeins of red wool, as local knitters and crocheters turn out scads of “Melt the ICE” caps in solidarity with protesters in Minnesota.
The hats don’t feature a patch or logo that says “Melt the ICE.” In fact, they carry no written message at all. What they offer is a deep scarlet hue, a dangling tassel, and a connection to an earlier, dangerous time, when a different people in another land sought to silently signal their unity.
“The hat is really a symbol and reminder,” said knitter Laura McNamara of Kensington, who is making two caps for friends. “People are looking for a sense of community.”
She refused her friends’ offers of payment, asking instead that they not let their involvement start and end with a hat ― but find a means to stand up for civil rights in some specific way.
The original hat was a kind of conical stocking cap, known as a nisselue, worn in Norway during the 1940s as a sign of resistance to the Nazi occupation. The Germans eventually caught on to the symbolism and banned the caps.
Amanda Bryman works on a red wool hat known as a “Melt the ICE” hat, during Fiber Folk Night at Wild Hand yarn shop in Philadelphia on Wednesday.
Now the new version that originated in a suburban Minneapolis yarn shop is spreading across the country. The hats signal opposition to U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement, which surged thousands of agents into Minneapolis, and sadness and anger over the deaths of Minnesotans and U.S. citizens Renee Good and Alex Pretti, who were shot to death by federal agents.
Today, comparisons of ICE agents to Nazis have become both frequent and contentious in American politics, with even some Democrats, including Gov. Josh Shapiro, who is Jewish, rejecting that equivalence as wrong and unacceptable.
ICE officials did not respond to a request for comment.
This is not the first time that the Philadelphia region’s craftivist movement, as it is known, has brought its knitting needles and crochet hooks to bear.
On the eve of Donald Trump’s first inauguration, artisans here turned out scores of cat-eared headgear known as pussy hats, a feline symbol of protest worn at the Women’s March on Washington. The hats aimed to tweak the then-president-elect over his comment about grabbing women by their genitals.
The Melt the ICE caps carry some controversy within the fiber community, as it calls itself. There have been online complaints that it’s easy to tug a red cap over one’s ears, but unless that is accompanied by action it holds no more significance than clicking a “Like” button on Facebook.
“It is just preening,” one person wrote in an internet forum.
Another said that “if your resistance is only this hat, then you have not actually accomplished anything except make a hat.”
Law enforcement officers detain a demonstrator during a protest outside SpringHill Suites and Residence Inn by Marriott hotels on Jan. 26 in Maple Grove, Minn.
Liz Sytsma, owner of Wild Hand in West Mount Airy, has heard the criticism.
But “the people in our community who are participating in making the hats, this is one of many things they are doing,” she said. That includes taking part in protests, calling elected leaders, and giving money to causes they support.
On Wednesday, more than a dozen people gathered at Wild Hand for the weekly Fiber Folk Night, where crafters gather to knit, crochet, and chat ― and, now, to work on hats.
Damon Davison traveled from Audubon, Camden County, having developed his own hat pattern, with sale proceeds to go to the activist group Juntos in South Philadelphia.
He wants to show solidarity with people “who are expressing resistance to what has been happening in Minneapolis, but also what’s happening here in Philly,” he said. “The idea is to make it a little bit more local.”
The shop has seen a rush on red, sought by about 70% of customers whose purchases have depleted stocks during the last couple of weeks.
“We’re really low,” said store manager Yolanda Booker, who plans to knit and donate a hat. “I want to do whatever small part I can do to help out.”
A single hat can take two or three days to make, though the best and fastest knitters can complete one in a couple of hours.
Store Manager Yolanda Booker, standing, laughs with attendees during Fiber Folk Night at Wild Hand yarn shop in Philadelphia on Wednesday.
In West Mount Airy, Kelbourne Woolens closed its physical doors during the national “ICE Out” strike in late January and donated its onlineprofits of $4,000 to Asian Americans United, Juntos, and New Sanctuary Movement of Philadelphia, said team member Bailey Spiteri. She estimated the store has sold enough red yarn to retailers to make 500 or 600 hats.
At Stitch Central in Glenside, customers donated $1,000 during the strike and the store matched it, with the $2,000 going to Nationalities Service Center in Philadelphia.
“Sometimes people are skeptical. How does wearing a hat or even making a hat make a difference?” asked Allison Covey of Drunken Knit Wits, a local knitting and crocheting organization. “But look at the donations. It does make a difference.”
Veteran knitter Neeta McColloch of Elkins Park thinks the same. She has ordered enough yarn to make eight hats. And she is curious to see how the phenomenon will develop.
“This is probably bigger than I think,” she said. “Knitters tend to be the type of people who in my experience have a strong moral compass. If they can combine something they love to do with something in which they can make a statement, that’s important to them.”
The frigid temperatures, the blocks of ice clogging the Delaware and Schuylkill Rivers, and the mounds of snow piled high in driveways and parking lots across the Philadelphia region are not likely to change much Sunday and Monday, Zack Cooper said Saturday afternoon.
Cooper, a meteorologist at the National Weather Service in Mount Holly, said to expect a high of just 18 degrees on Sunday, a significant drop from Saturday’s high of 28. For Monday’s return to work for many, the weather service predicts a high of 36.
“It’s been a long time since we’ve seen this type of prolonged stretch of cold weather,” Cooper said. “It’s been about 10 years.”
The good news, he said, is that the temperature should peak for the week at near 41 on Wednesday. More good news, he said, is that the daytime highs are expected to reach above freezing for the rest of the week, 36 on Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday, and 38 on Saturday. But the nighttime lows should still dip below the freezing point of 32 degrees.
In that case, Cooper said, some of the ice will melt during the warmer daytime hours but not enough to cause widespread flash flooding near rivers, lakes, and streams. A slow warmup, with warmer days and colder nights, is always best, he said.
It’s been a rough February so far for Philadelphia area residents. Daily average temperatures have been below freezing every day since Jan. 23, and the region went nine days, from Jan. 24 to Feb. 2, without reaching 32 degrees at all.
Last week, a barge heading north got stopped in the ice on the Delaware River, ferry service was halted in the Delaware Bay due to ice, and the Coast Guard had to deploy a 175-foot-long cutter to smash up ice floes in the Delaware all the way up to Trenton.
Cooper said the recent nine-day stretch of temperatures below freezing is likely among the top 10 longest local cold snaps on record. The last period of such frigidity, he said, was an eight-day stretch in 2015.
As for the wind chills, Saturday night could reach minus 13 degrees. Sunday could go to minus 12, and Monday could be minus 3. High wind warnings are expected to be lifted on Sunday. No snow is expected next week.
So what should folks do until Wednesday? Hang in there, Cooper said. “We take weather as it comes,” he said. “It’s ever-changing, and you have to adapt and adjust.”
And if it does reach 41 on Wednesday, Cooper said, “It will feel nice.”
My assignment that day was pretty typical for a newspaper photographer: show the reader what the person a reporter is profiling looks like. And maybe what they do and where they do it.
Newly-inaugurated Mayor Joi Washington at Media Borough Hall.
Having accomplished that task, I headed out looking for something else to photograph in the snow, and ended up at a pedestrian passage way.
As I made a picture of a person silhouetted in the corrugated metal culvert, the first thing I thought of was an old friend and photo editor Joe Elbert who famously said there are four categories in the “hierarchy” of newspaper photographs, lowest to highest: informational, graphic, emotional, and intimate.
In just a few hours I had knocked out his “lower” two types.
I made a few pictures that report “just the facts” without much flavor or fanfare. Then I found a visually appealing scene and waited until I could turn it into a well composed, interesting image. Graphic, even.
Joe was the photo editor at the Post from 1988 through 2007. Under his direction the paper won four Pulitzer Prizes, and many other awards, all for work that epitomizes that highest category of intimate photographs.
It’s easy to feel nostalgic for those “glory days,” but I mourn that almost an entire section of the newspaper is now gone.
Post photographers were still creating those most intimate images of Joe’s hierarchy. They were still making the reader feel something that allows us to connect with lives beyond our own, to empathize, and to care.
Since 1998 a black-and-white photo has appeared every Monday in staff photographer Tom Gralish’s “Scene Through the Lens” photo column in the print editions of The Inquirer’s local news section. Here are the most recent, in color:
February 2, 2026: A light-as-air Elmo balloon rolls along a sidewalk in Haddonfield, propelled by the wind as Sunday’s heavy snow starts to turn to ice and sleet. January 26, 2026: The President’s House in Independence National Historical Park hours Jan, 22, after all historical exhibits were removed following President Trump’s Executive Order last March that the content at national parks that “inappropriately disparage” the U.S. be reviewed. The site, a reconstructed “ghost” structure titled “Freedom and Slavery in the Making of a New Nation” (2010), serves as a memorial to the nine people George Washington enslaved there during the founding of America.January 19, 2026: A low-in-the-sky winter sun is behind the triangular pediment of the “front door” of the open-air President’s House installation in Independence National Historical Park. The reconstructed “ghost” structure with partial walls and windows of the Georgian home known in the 18th century as 190 High St. is officially titled, “Freedom and Slavery in the Making of a New Nation” (2010). It is designed to give visitors a sense of the house where the first two presidents of the United States, George Washington and John Adams, served their terms of office. The commemorative site designed by Emanuel Kelly, with Kelly/Maiello Architects, pays homage to nine enslaved people of African descent who were part of the Washington household with videos scripted by Lorene Cary and directed by Louis Massiah. Deepika Iyer holds her niece Ira Samudra aloft in a Rockyesque pose, while her parents photograph their 8 month-old daughter, in front of the famous movie prop at the top of the steps at the Philadelphia Art Museum. Iyer lives in Philadelphia and is hosting a visit by her mother Vijayalakshmi Ramachandran (partially hidden); brother Gautham Ramachandran; and her sister-in-law Janani Gautham who all live in Bangalore, India.January 5, 2026: Parade marshals trail behind the musicians of the Greater Kensington String Band heading to their #9 position start in the Mummers Parade. Spray paint by comic wenches earlier in the day left “Oh, Dem Golden Slippers” shadows on the pavement of Market Street. This year marked the 125th anniversary of Philly’s iconic New Year’s Day celebration.Dec. 29, 2025: Canada geese at sunrise in Evans Pond in Haddonfield, during the week of the Winter Solstice for the Northern Hemisphere. December 22, 2025: SEPTA trolley operator Victoria Daniels approaches the end of the Center City Tunnel, heading toward the 40th Street trolley portal after a tour to update the news media on overhead wire repairs in the closed tunnel due to unexpected issues from new slider parts.December 15, 2025: A historical interpreter waits at the parking garage elevators headed not to a December crossing of the Delaware River, but an event at the National Constitution Center. General George Washington was on his way to an unveiling of the U.S. Mint’s new 2026 coins for the Semiquincentennial, December 8, 2025: The Benjamin Franklin Bridge and pedestrians on the Delaware River Trail are reflected in mirrored spheres of the “Weaver’s Knot: Sheet Bend” public artwork on Columbus Boulevard. The site-specific stainless steel piece located between the Cherry Street and Race Street Piers was commissioned by the City’s Public Art Office and the Delaware River Waterfront Corporation and created and installed in 2022 by the design and fabrication group Ball-Nogues Studio. The name recalls a history that dominated the region for hundreds of years. “Weaver’s knot” derives from use in textile mills and the “Sheet bend” or “sheet knot” was used on sailing vessels for bending ropes to sails. November 29, 2025: t’s ginkgo time in our region again when the distinctive fan-shaped leaves turn yellow and then, on one day, lose all their leaves at the same time laying a carpet on city streets and sidewalks. A squirrel leaps over leaves in the 18th Century Garden in Independence National Historical Park Nov. 25, 2025. The ginkgo (Ginkgo biloba) is considered a living fossil as it’s the only surviving species of a group of trees that existed before dinosaurs. Genetically, it has remained unchanged over the past 200 million years. William Hamilton, owner the Woodlands in SW Phila (no relation to Alexander Hamilton) brought the first ginkgo trees to North America in 1785.November 24, 2025: The old waiting room at 30th Street Station that most people only pass through on their way to the restrooms has been spiffed up with benches – and a Christmas tree. It was placed there this year in front of the 30-foot frieze, “The Spirit of Transportation” while the lobby of Amtrak’s $550 million station restoration is underway. The 1895 relief sculpture by Karl Bitter was originally hung in the Broad Street Station by City Hall, but was moved in 1933. It depicts travel from ancient to modern and even futuristic times. November 17, 2025: Students on a field trip from the Christian Academy in Brookhaven, Delaware County, pose for a group photo in front of the Liberty Bell in Independence National Historical Park on Thursday. The trip was planned weeks earlier, before they knew it would be on the day park buildings were reopening after the government shutdown ended. “We got so lucky,” a teacher said. Then corrected herself. “It’s because we prayed for it.” November 8, 2025: Multitasking during the Festival de Día de Muertos – Day of the Dead – in South Philadelphia.November 1, 2025: Marcy Boroff is at City Hall dressed as a Coke can, along with preschoolers and their caregivers, in support of former Mayor Jim Kenney’s 2017 tax on sweetened beverages. City Council is considering repealing the tax, which funds the city’s pre-K programs.
Dirty Franks says ’25 and up’ — and the regulars reclaim the bar: B+
Dirty Franks banning 24-year-olds and under sounds, on paper, like the plot of a generational culture war. In reality, it’s a dive bar doing what dive bars have always done: protecting the room.
The catalyst? A fake ID featuring Ben Franklin that successfully scanned. Over the past year, Franks has been overrun by increasingly bold fake IDs, TikTok-fueled crowds, and behavior that doesn’t match the unspoken social contract of a place where regulars expect to sit, talk, and not babysit a bar.
This isn’t about hating young people. It’s about a bar that has never been a college bar suddenly being treated like one. Quantity over quality, as owner Jody Sweitzer put it. More bodies, same money, harder nights.
The temporary 25-plus rule is blunt, maybe even unfair to the responsible 22-year-olds who just want a cheap beer and a dart board. But Philly bars have always operated on feel as much as fairness. When something’s off, you fix it first and argue about it later.
And by most accounts, it worked. The room is calmer. Regulars are back. People can sit again. Staff aren’t playing bouncer-scanner-detective every five minutes, trying to outsmart IDs that look like they came straight out of a CIA prop department.
Is it sustainable? Probably not. Is it extremely Philly to say “we’ll relax when the nonsense stops”? Absolutely.
Groundhog Club handler A.J. Dereume holds Punxsutawney Phil, the weather prognosticating groundhog, during the 140th celebration of Groundhog Day on Gobbler’s Knob in Punxsutawney, Pa., Monday, Feb. 2, 2026. Phil’s handlers said that the groundhog has forecast six more weeks of winter. (AP Photo/Barry Reeger)
Punxsutawney Phil sees his shadow, condemning Philly to six more weeks of this: D
Six more weeks of winter doesn’t mean snowflakes and cozy vibes in Philadelphia. It means gray piles of ice that never melt, sidewalks that double as obstacle courses, and that specific kind of cold that seeps through gloves.
Phil seeing his shadow wasn’t news. The snow is still here. The side streets are still a mess. The wind is still disrespectful. And now we’re being told to mentally prepare for another month and a half of bundling up just to take out the trash.
Phil’s track record doesn’t help his case. He’s been wrong more often than right, but somehow still gets the power to set the emotional tone for an entire region. And the tone this year is simple: exhausted, sore, and deeply over it.
We don’t hate Phil. We just resent him for reminding us that winter in Philadelphia isn’t a season: It’s a long, drawn-out test of patience, balance, and civic infrastructure.
Six more weeks? Fine. We’ll survive. But we’re not happy about it.
Heavy equipment clears snow and ice from South Broad Street near Tasker Street in South Philadelphia, Tuesday, Feb. 3, 2026.
Philly sends in ‘snow ambassadors’ because the cleanup still isn’t done: C
At this point, the storm itself is old news. What isn’t: frozen crosswalks, ice-packed corners, and a city that still feels stuck in cleanup mode.
So now comes the next phase of winter in Philadelphia: improvisation.
The city is deploying 300 “snow ambassadors” to manually chip away at ice piled up at crosswalks and corners. We’re well past the point where plows and salt were enough, and if the choice is between stubborn ice lingering for weeks or sending people out with tools to break it up, the latter is the only real answer.
But it also says a lot about how this cleanup has gone.
The city is now in hand-to-hand combat with the leftovers of a storm that dropped 9.3 inches and then immediately locked them in place with days of deep cold. The fact that crosswalks still need this level of attention, days later, underscores how uneven the original response was, especially on side streets and pedestrian infrastructure.
Calling them “ambassadors” doesn’t change the reality: This is a workaround. A necessary one but still a sign that the system didn’t fully deliver the first time around.
That said, credit where it’s due. The city didn’t just shrug and tell people to wait for a thaw. It adjusted. It added manpower. It acknowledged that what’s left isn’t just inconvenient but dangerous. And focusing on crosswalks and ADA ramps is exactly where the effort should be right now.
This isn’t a win. It’s a course correction.
Phillies designated hitter Kyle Schwarber celebrates his solo home run with teammate J.T. Realmuto against the Kansas City Royals on Saturday, Sept. 13, 2025, in Philadelphia.
Phillies spring training hope (and the kids knocking): A
This is the part of the calendar where Philly collectively exhales.
Spring training is just getting started, and already the Phillies feel lighter. Not because anything’s been won. Not because the roster is flawless. But because February baseball is where optimism still gets the benefit of the doubt.
Clearwater represents a reset. New grass. Fresh routines. The annual illusion that this version of the team will be the one where everything clicks at the right time. It doesn’t matter how last season ended, spring training always feels like permission to believe again.
And for the first time in a while, the kids are actually coming. Justin Crawford looks like the opening-day center fielder. Andrew Painter is finally healthy enough to matter again. Aidan Miller is looming. The Phillies’ farm system has spent years as a drip-feed; now it feels like a faucet that might finally turn on.
That matters for a team that’s been built around a veteran core for so long. Bryce Harper and Kyle Schwarber anchoring things in Clearwater feels familiar in the best way, but the real intrigue is whether the next wave can actually stick. Whether this spring is the start of something sustainable, not just another “run it back.”
Spring training is baseball’s softest sell. No standings. No scoreboard pressure. Just story lines, roster battles, and enough sun to trick you into thinking October is guaranteed. Philly knows better than to fully trust it, but we still show up every year.
Because hope is part of the ritual. And for now, it’s earned.
If nothing else, pitchers and catchers reporting means one undeniable thing: Winter is losing leverage, and baseball is back in the conversation. Around here, that’s worth an A all by itself.
A rolling video screen above the admissions counter at the West Entrance at the Philadelphia Museum of Art Monday, Oct. 6, 2025, features a “youse should visit” slide and a new logo. The name change was eventually reversed back to its original – Philadelphia Museum of Art – but the griffin was kept.
The Art Museum walks it back (somewhat): B+
Four months after trying to rename itself the Philadelphia Art Museum, the Philadelphia Museum of Art has decided to do what Philadelphians do best: Stop pretending and call it what everyone was calling it anyway.
But this wasn’t a full rewind. The museum kept the updated look — the bold fonts, the sharper visual identity, the griffin logo pulled from the building’s roofline. The feedback was clear and consistent: People who know the institution (members, donors, staff) felt alienated by the name change.
The Philadelphia Museum of Art isn’t just branding; it’s muscle memory. You don’t casually swap that out without expecting pushback. But surveys also showed that the broader public didn’t hate the new look itself. So the museum split the difference.
It kept the visual refresh. It dropped the name change, which felt unnecessary and confusing. And it signaled, intentionally or not, that listening matters more than doubling down.
Philly gets its own Monopoly board, and the arguments have already started: A
A Philadelphia edition of Monopoly is coming this fall, and honestly, the game itself almost feels beside the point. The real action is happening now, in the collective act of imagining what would, and absolutely would not, be allowed on a Philly board.
The gaming company behind the project is soliciting public nominations for landmarks, businesses, and nonprofits, which means we’re about two seconds away from the most Philly fight imaginable: not about what belongs on the board, but what deserves Boardwalk money and what gets stuck near Baltic Avenue out of spite.
Picture it. Pass GO at City Hall. Community Chest immediately fines you for blocking a crosswalk. Chance card sends you directly to SEPTA delays — do not collect $200. Jail is the Roundhouse. Free Parking is somehow still under construction.
Some squares feel obvious: the Art Museum steps, LOVE Park, Independence Hall. Others are going to be chaos picks. Wawa utilities. Delco railroads. A corner bar that hasn’t changed since 1987 somehow costing more than Center City. Someone will nominate their neighborhood dive and mean it sincerely. Someone else will nominate their rowhouse just to prove a point.
And that’s where this gets interesting. A Philly Monopoly board isn’t really about the game. It’s about which places people think matter, and which ones they’ll argue should’ve made the cut.
‘We’ll shew ya whereta gew in the snew’: Visit PA leans into accents — and Philly winter energy: B+
If you’re going to tell Philadelphians to leave the house in February, you’d better sound like someone we trust. Preferably someone who says “youse.”
The Pennsylvania Tourism Office seems to get that, according to WHYY. Its new winter “Snow Day Hotline” is staffed by prerecorded Philly and Pittsburgh accents, plus live comedians during select hours.
Call the number and you’re greeted by exaggerated but affectionate regional voices walking you through things to do around the state, from museums to indoor hangs. It’s intentionally old-school, phone only, no app.
The Philly side of the operation is handled by comedian Betsy Kenney, whose accent isn’t natural but feels familiar anyway: a composite of neighbors, aunts, and the person behind you in line at Wawa explaining why something is “not worth it, but also maybe worth it.” The advice isn’t groundbreaking. The delivery is the point.
So when a highly accomplished Jeopardy! champion (16-game winner, nearly half a million dollars in earnings) visibly struggled to pronounce “Schuylkill” on national television this week, Philly collectively leaned forward and went, here we go.
To Scott Riccardi’s credit, he got the answer right. The river that runs through Pottsville, Reading, and Philadelphia? Yes. Correct. No notes. But the pronunciation (Skol-kull) sent Ken Jennings into referee mode, which is never where you want to be when the clue involves Pennsylvania geography.
For the record (again): it’s Skoo-kl. Two syllables. No drama. No extra letters pronounced.
Riccardi walks away with a B: smart, successful, and close enough to get partial credit. But full points are reserved for anyone who can say Schuylkill on the first try without breaking eye contact.
Lou Turk’s, a Delaware County strip club with more than 50 years in business, announced it will change its name to the Carousel Delco.
Lou Turk’s rebrands, Delco shrugs: A
Only in Delco could a strip club rebrand spark genuine cultural concern. Not about the name, but about whether Mother’s Day flower sales would survive.
Lou Turk’s, Delaware County’s lone strip club and one of its most stubborn institutions, announced it’s changing its name to the Carousel Delco. The response was immediate disbelief, light outrage, and a collective understanding that no one is actually calling it that. Ever. This is Gallery/Fashion District math.
Stephanie Farr laid it out perfectly: Lou Turk’s isn’t just a business, it’s a landmark. A place that exists in the Delco imagination as much as it does off Route 291, wedged between a Wawa and an Irish pub like it was placed there by a zoning board with a sense of humor.
The new name raises questions (mostly “why?”), but Delco culture is resilient. The club can swap signage, management, and branding buzzwords all it wants. It will still be Lou Turk’s. And more importantly, it will still sell flowers on Mother’s Day, preserving one of the county’s most unhinged and beloved traditions.
We’ll show you a photo taken in the Philly-area, you drop a pin where you think it was taken. Closer to the location results in a better score. This week is all about shiny, classic, and infamous automobiles! Good luck!
Round #19
Question 1
Where is this show room?
Loading…
ClickTap on map to guess the location in the photo
ClickTap again to change your guess and hit submit when you're happy
You will be scored at the end. The closer to the location the better the score
Jose F. Moreno / Staff Photographer
Pretty good/Not bad/Way off! Your guess was from the location.Spot on! Your guess was exactly at the location. Here's also where a random selection of Inquirer readers guessed.
This photo was taken during the 2022 Philly Auto Show at the Pennsylvania Convention Center. This year’s show runs until February 8, once again at the Convention Center. Organized by the Auto Dealers Association of Greater Philadelphia, it spans nearly 700,000 square feet.
Quiz continues after ad
Question 2
Where is this famously frozen car?
Loading…
Joe Lamberti / For The Inquirer
Pretty good/Not bad/Way off! Your guess was from the location.Spot on! Your guess was exactly at the location. Here's also where a random selection of Inquirer readers guessed.
Pretty good/Not bad/Way off! Your guess was from the location.Spot on! Your guess was exactly at the location. Here's also where a random selection of Inquirer readers guessed.
After her frozen car garnered tens of millions of views on TikTok, Tianna Graham is getting a new car for free, gifted to her by Carvana, whose car vending machine tower features prominently in the background of her videos.
Graham, a 24-year-old fifth-grade math teacher at Community Academy of Philadelphia, had a 2016 Honda Civic. The vehicle became thoroughly encased in ice following the snowstorm and arctic temperatures late last month.
On Tuesday, Graham reached out to Carvana, hoping she could leverage the car tower’s inadvertent virality in her videos to get a discount on a new car. Carvana soon responded, eager to help.
When Graham, a Fishtown resident, arrived at the facility on Friday afternoon with her mom and sister, she said, she expected Carvana would offer her some percentage off one of their cars.
Replying to @✨mrs.corby.nails✨ THANK YOU @Carvana MORE COMING SOON!!! I’m so incredibly grateful for this!!!! after all the details get sorted out, i’ll post a full update! and a big thank u to my lovely friends and family who have been helping me through this!
She was stunned to see a bright blue 2022 Honda Civic descend from the car vending machine with a big bow on it, school supplies inside, and an ice pick, “which I guess I do need,” Graham said with a laugh.
Carvana spokesperson Hayley Pollack confirmed Friday the car will be free for Graham once all the paperwork is finalized.
“I was shocked, in disbelief,” Graham said of learning the car would be free. “It’s a beautiful car.”
Tianna Graham in front of the car Carvana is gifting her.
The car is used and has about 28,000 miles on it, Graham said. She expects to have it in her possession next week based on initial conversations with Carvana, she said.
She plans to take it for a spin for the first time next weekend to drive to Ocean City, Md., for a National Federation of the Blind convention, she said. Graham, whose sister is blind, said she is currently pursuing her graduate degree to become an orientation and mobility specialist to help blind people learn to use canes.
“All things do happen for a reason,” Graham said she learned from this experience. “Anything bad that is happening, something good can always come out of it.”
The Delaware Valley Regional Planning Commission is working to help keep alive the city’s project to cap the Vine Street Expressway after Washington last year yanked $150 million in promised federal money.
The project was dependent on a $159 million U.S. Department of Transportation grant covering the entire cost.
Now, DVRPC, at the city’s request, is managing the process of gathering $12.5 million to replace some of the lost money, enough to complete the final design.
“We are taking this administrative action to keep the project moving,” DVRPC spokesperson Elise Turner said.
The Chinatown project involves building a cap over I-676 from just east of 10th to 13th Streets, allowing for a park as well as more developable land. It would tie together Chinatown and the neighborhood to the north, which were united until the interstate split them.
Finishing the design will advance the project as officials look for construction funding. It’s possible building the cap will be delayed.
For the design work, $10 million would be obtained from another federal program for improvements on the national highway network. That money is available in the region’s reserve controlled by PennDot, DVRPC staff said.
The city would contribute $2.5 million.
The city’s Office of Transportation and Infrastructure Systems is working to secure the money and is “confident” that will happen, a spokesperson said, while declining to disclose details.
As for construction, “funding will have to be figured out later,” said DVRPC’s Turner.
The agency determines priorities for regional transportation projects.
To receive federal funds, an infrastructure project needs the formal blessing of the DVRPC, the designated metropolitan planning organization for the Philadelphia region.
Meanwhile, preliminary engineering work is continuing, financed by the $8.4 million. The project is expected to receive environmental approvals in the spring, DVRPC said.
President Donald Trump and the GOP congressional majorities have been targeting Biden-era initiatives for elimination, including various transportation-equity programs — to fund projects like the Stitch — that began under the national infrastructure act of 2022.
In late 2023, construction of the cap was projected to begin in 2027, although at other points a groundbreaking was anticipated in 2028.
The timeline is currently unclear.
This story has been updated to clarify DVRPC’s role in the project.
