Tag: Scene on the Road

The brief confrontation came this week in front of the empty frames where visitors had been taping informal signs to fill the void where the original panels hung at the President’s House, after President Donald Trump’s administration removed the slavery exhibits last month.

Glenn Bergman and his wife Dianne Manning were just arriving at the Avenging the Ancestors Coalition’s annual Presidents’ Day observance. They had earlier attended the weekly ICE vigil a few blocks away. Bystanders yelled at the woman to stop as she declared it was her “First Amendment right” while tearing off the notes.

Bergman stepped in to block her, saying later, he “had to do something.” After a few seconds everyone stepped away, accusing her of “littering.”

She grabbed the papers off the ground and left abruptly, shouting “George Washington made this country great… for white people.”

The entire interaction lasted less than three minutes — and unfolded right on the other side of the wall from where the main advocacy organization leading the fight to protect the President’s House was gathered.

As the week of Presidents’ Day ends, I’m moving that presidential apostrophe back a letter and remembering my time photographing at the President’s House.

It is almost a year since our current President signed Executive Order #14253, titled “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History,” on Mar. 27, 2025.

In addition to requiring the Secretary of the Interior to develop a plan to improve Independence National Historical Park in preparation for our 250th birthday, he directed National Park Service staff to identify language and historical depictions that “inappropriately disparage Americans past or living.”

In May, Interior Secretary Doug Burgum issued an order that signs be posted in all National Park asking employees and visitors to report any negative information.

In July, President Donald Trump’s administration started taking steps to review or remove materials key to understanding the history of race in America.

But it didn’t happen until last month.

I was on another assignment nearby when the newspaper received a tip workers were on the site “with tape measures.”

They weren’t talking to our reporter, already on the site, when I arrived to find park service workers indeed examining the panels. So I just assumed if they would be dismantling the exhibits it would happen in the middle of the night — like when the statue of former Mayor Frank Rizzo was “disappeared” and his Italian Market mural was erased under cover of darkness in 2020.

I made a few photos then left to edit and upload, only to get a text, “it’s happening now.”

It was awkward as the workers asked me to “give us a break,” while I hovered around — not right on top of them — watching every move. I replied we were both doing our jobs.

It wasn’t long before other news media arrived, and I continued to document the entire removal. I was joined by photographer Elizabeth Robertson who made a photo from our newsroom overlooking the site. Later that evening, I returned to a much quieter scene.

That wasn’t the end of it. Protests continued…

… and the City of Philadelphia sued the National Park Service and Department of Interior. District Judge Cynthia M. Rufe inspected the removed panels in storage for herself, visited the President’s House site, then ordered the federal government “restore the President’s House Site to its physical status as of January 21, 2026,” which is the day before the exhibits were removed.

Trump administration officials appealed her ruling calling it “unnecessary judicial intervention” and on Presidents’ Day, when Glenn Bergman and Dianne Manning of Mt. Airy were attending the Avenging the Ancestors Coalition rally, Judge Rufe issued an injunction that required the federal agencies to restore the interpretive panels.

So we all waited to see what happened next. The “what’s next?” was two days later the federal judge, citing the agencies’ “failure to comply” set a deadline of 5 p.m. Friday.

A spokesperson for the White House defended their inaction saying removal of the exhibits is not final because the Department of the Interior is “engaged in an ongoing review of our nation’s American history exhibits in accordance with the President’s executive order to eliminate corrosive ideology, restore sanity, and reinstate the truth.”

Upon hearing the news I thought, “Friday is my day off. I will just have to read what my excellent reporting colleagues Fallon Roth, Maggie Prosser, and Abraham Gutman write about it. And live vicariously through the photos by whichever of my photo co-workers gets the assignment.“

I just couldn’t stay away, so I returned to the site early Thursday morning, just to “babysit.”

After about 30 minutes and only seeing two visitors, a park service worker arrived with a 5-gallon Lowe’s plastic blue bucket ($4.95, lid sold separately) and another, plain white plastic pail full of rags. More prep work for Friday, my day off, I figured.

When he returned with a six-foot Little Giant ladder ($255.99, King Kombo), I asked “so you’re not just doing more cleaning, right?”

I alerted my newsdesk, and spent the next six hours there.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.

I don’t know why this scene caught my eye. I have seen graffiti-tagged walls on roll-down metal storefronts and yes, even panel trucks and vans before.

And in the past few weeks since our biggest snowfall in a decade — followed by a brutal freeze that locked in all the plowed piles — I have certainly seen enough streets lined with snowed-in vehicles. Maybe it was the combination of the two.

I was stopped because the dirty snowpack on street shoulders reduced traffic lanes and created gridlock. But while I waited through not one or two, but three traffic light cycles, I had the time to look, pick up my phone, roll down my window and take a picture.

Not the kind of image I usually look for.

Then that got me thinking, “What kinds of pictures do I like? What came first, the snow or the graffiti?” (I was at that light a long time.)

I clearly like photographing people. That’s why I got into journalism.

When doing portraits on assignments I have always tried to get people comfortable with being themselves. I have always had a hard time “directing” them. It is especially difficult when the story I’m trying to illustrate is not about them, but about where they work, or what they are doing.

Trying avoid posing subjects by saying “just do whatever you’d be doing if I — and a reporter, and the public relations person(s) — wasn’t here,” doesn’t help. And just makes it awkward for all of us.

Walking into a room where everyone is ready and waiting to be photographed — but unsure of what the photographer will do — is also hard for them. If possible I get them to interact with each other, even if it’s just sharing what they had for breakfast. In public spaces I will often enlist customers or passersby, asking if I can photographed over their shoulders. Then wait — and hope — for a genuine moment. Like in the mall retail shop, a customer interaction is much better than five salespeople standing among the merchandise looking at the camera.

That is also why I most enjoy assignments where I am just there, observing an event trying to capture something that will make readers click on a link or pause to read a story. And I keep myself enthused while doing it. Like the many public appearances of our mayor.

That goes for ordinary people too, not just politicians or executives or sports or entertainment celebrities. And what is more normal and everyday than stopping at your regular convenience store?

On Thursday, Sheetz officially moved into Wawa territory with the grand opening of a store in the Philly Suburbs — right across the street from a Wawa.

I also photographed Wawa’s excursion into Sheetz land in 2024. For decades, it was assumed there were unspoken boundaries in Pennsylvania between Wawa in the East and Sheetz in the West. But representatives of both chains deny they are rivals and as my colleague Stephanie Farr points out, they have worked together to support various nonprofits.

Next stop for me (soon, I hope) a photographic road trip to the nearest Buc-ees.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.

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.

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.

I thought of Joe again as we learned on Wednesday that the Washington Post laid off a third of its journalists, including all of the staff photographers and half the photo editors.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.

I spoke with a Friends School class this week, primarily about my photos decades ago of unhoused men in Center City. It was part of their week working with PhotoVoice, a research method where participants photograph their own lives to highlight community strengths and challenges, and advocate for social change.

After the class, and following many thoughtful questions from the middle schoolers about how in general I approach people before I photograph them, and specifically people in vulnerable situations, a student came up to ask me a more practical question: “How do you take pictures in bad weather?”

I don’t have an all-weather, sealed camera, so besides dressing as best I can for the conditions (and always having a spare pair of thick, dry wool socks in my car) keeping my camera protected is the biggest priority. I not only need to stave off mechanical/electronic breakdown, but have to keep my lens clear of the elements.

I told him I do have a dedicated rain sleeve but I’ve only used it once or twice at rainy sporting events (they’re priced from $2 each up to $200).

Mostly I use plastic bags or a large umbrellas (watching that I not catch the edges in my frame). I also try to find dry areas to stand in — while watching and photographing others out in the elements. I seek cover under a roof, awning, or doorway. I go into parking garages or subway entrances.

Sometimes I safely park my car where I can briefly open my leeward (downwind!) window. Other times the rain or snow on glass can even be an effective way to portray the “dab” weather. It can be in or out of focus to create a bokeh-like effect or blurred to convey mood. Your choice of a fast shutter or slow shutter can either stop the drops or show their movement.

I’ve covered all of the biggest storms of the past few decades, including the historic “Blizzard of the Century” thirty years ago this month.

So, I took my own advice while preparing to go out last Sunday. Knowing the roads would get worse as the day went on, I drove out of my South Jersey neighborhood while an early pass of the plows left main arteries somewhat passable, and headed straight to the nearest Wawa that I knew would have a clear-ish parking lot.

Stepping out from under the overhang — I made a few photos before walking out into on the wide street to get the few passing cars and plowing crews in a nearby shopping center.

From there, confirming my fears the roads would be more difficult to drive on, I headed the Westmont PATCO station, finding a safe place to park even as workers were hard at it, clearing the lot.

I made photos from the elevated platform before taking a train to Collingswood, where — standing on the leeward side of the stairwell shelter — I took more pictures then walked into downtown.

Haddon Avenue was plowed and relatively empty of cars, but the sidewalks were impassible. I sent in my best photo of people walking along the middle of the downtown street.

It was then I saw Mike Doveton and his daughters. Not wanting to repeat my earlier image, I asked if they were headed to or from sledding.

They were walking to the PATCO station to sled in Haddonfield, so I tagged along.

I went with them to their destination, but didn’t want another kids-on-a-hill photo, so I got back on the train returning to the Westmont station, and my car, calling it a day. Until I saw someone digging out their car — the same one I had photographed hours earlier. I got as close as I could to the spot on the platform and made an “after” photo.

Luis Nova had left his car there on Friday, and was in Philadelphia all weekend helping friends move and going to a goodbye party. He spent the morning sledding with friends in Clark Park in West Philadelphia. Like me, he had experience with storms. “I spent four years in Rochester [NY],” he told me. “So I knew what I was signing up for and was ready. I left all my equipment to get myself out.”

But the highlight of the day was at the very end, as I headed for home as the snow was turning to sleet. Two hours earlier, in the middle of the storm my grandson snapped a photo out our front window of an Elmo head in the middle of the street before the wind blew it away, and shared the picture with our family. As I approached my house, I see a red ball rolling fast down the street toward me. I almost drove into a snow bank laughing.

Not really, but I did pull into the driveway, grab a camera, jump out of my car and go chasing after it. The wind was really moving it, and I couldn’t see where it was, which was hard to imagine, being as the road and everything else was all white. I came up to a couple of guys shoveling and asked, “Did you see an Elmo head come this way?” They had, and said it went up a driveway and jumped onto the sidewalk. I found it and just as I was lining up my photo the wind took it again and it started spinning.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.

I have walked through Independence National Historical Park many times looking at the many interpretive panels, exhibits and historical materials after President Donald Trump’s March 27, 2025 Executive Order 14253.

Titled “Restoring Truth and Sanity to American History,” the order directed the Department of the Interior, which oversees the National Park Service, to review over 400 national sites to remove or modify interpretive materials that it deems “inappropriately disparage Americans past or living (including persons living in colonial times).” The order aimed to focus on the “greatness of the achievements and progress of the American people.”

At first I looked at the many interpretive panels, videos, exhibits and historical materials in Independence Hall, Liberty Bell Center, President’s House and Ben Franklin Museum, wondering which ones the Interior Secretary might identify that “perpetuate a false reconstruction of American history, inappropriately minimize the value of certain historical events or figures, or include any other improper partisan ideology.”

I took a lot of photos, but realized there wasn’t a way I could write a caption reading, “the administration doesn’t like what this panel says about slavery.” So I put any photos I made in a file for later use.

In July, the New York Times broke the story that employees of the National Park Service had been flagging descriptions and displays at scores of parks and historic sites around the country for review — and they had examples of a few here in Philadelphia.

The next day, armed with the specific panels at the Liberty Bell and the President’s House they reported, I went back and re-photographed them all for our own story.

My colleague Fallon Roth obtained and reviewed the internal comments submitted by NPS employees here with many more details so in the following days I made many more photos.

I was even told to re-photograph some panels for a third time, grumbling (to myself) when told “we need higher resolution versions, shot head on, without any distortion,” for an interactive project. Which, I had to admit later (again, to myself) turned out great!

The President’s House came under particular scrutiny, and the removal of noncompliant displays was initially slated to come on Sept. 17.

I went back many times, through protests and even the federal government shutdown.

The administration’s deadline came and went. We got tips that signs had been altered, but I checked, and nothing actually happened. Until Thursday.

I was on assignment near Independence Hall, and as always, walked through the President’s House. It was quiet except for a local TV news crew using Independence Mall as a location for their report on this weekend’s coming winter storm.

Later while editing that assignment, we got a tip that workers with tape measures where looking and poking around “behind the panels” there. I rushed down where my colleague Maggie Prosser was already asking them what they were up to.

It wasn’t long before it finally happened.

I photographed the entire removal, and was joined by photographer Elizabeth Robertson who even made an overall photo from our newsroom overlooking the site.

Finally, I ended up returning after dark, just because.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.

The reconstructed “ghost” structure with partial walls and windows of the building known in the eighteenth-century as 190 High Street is officially titled, “Freedom and Slavery in the Making of a New Nation” (2010).

The open-air President’s House installation in Independence National Historical Park was 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.

Just like the Rocky statue I photographed last week in anticipation of this week’s news, the President’s House was in the news last year so it remains on my radar as I walk around Old City (our newsroom is right across the street).

The cloud formation in the winter sky was what first caught my attention. Then it was seeing the sun lined up directly behind the triangular pediment above the Georgian home’s “front door.”

I played with “placement” of the sun peeking through a tiny gap at a bottom corner of the gable. I knew knew that f/22 on my mirrorless camera’s lens would give me a nice starburst. It’s an optical effect that happens because the lens’ aperture blades don’t form a perfect circle. And the narrower the opening — like f/22 — the more pronounced the effect (shooting at f/2.8 is not quite as dramatic).

Then it was simply a matter of my moving my head ever-so-slightly to align the sun with the little hole — like threading a needle.

While standing in the thin shadow of the door, I was getting blasted in the eye each time I moved. Then a group of tourists, or a noise, startled a flock of pigeons and as they took flight I was not poised just right, but I liked having the birds there better than a perfect placement of the starburst.

I tried a similar “trick” a few years ago, when walking around my town photographing with my iPhone. It doesn’t have a mechanical diaphragm so the effect is not the same. Plus, the threading-the-needle part is much more difficult when you are not actually looking through the lens as in a DSLR. And with a backlight sun blasting you directly in the face.

The optical principle of refraction through a lens diaphragm is the same for both mirrorless and DSLR cameras because light travels through the lens elements and aperture in the same way.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.

I stepped into a real live, working — smells and all — black and white darkroom this week, for the first time in decades.

I watched Charlotte Astor, a junior at Cherry Hill High School East, develop her B&W photographs in the school’s darkroom.

For a few years after The Inquirer went digital I kept the small enlarger and other personal equipment that I’d used in my crude basement darkroom from when I was starting out. I had little use for it after I got my first staff job with bigger and better facilities. It all stayed boxed up, through multiple moves, long after I’d stopped exposing any film — even for family photos.

I finally gave it all away when young people first started using analog formats like typewriters, vinyl records, “dumb phones,” and film cameras as a move away from digital overload. (A few years ago our photo staff did a group project where we each took a turn with the same 35 mm mechanical camera using just one roll of black-and-white film.)

Like many digital natives who grew up with smartphones and the internet and are now “detoxing,” Astor has totally embraced B&W 35 mm, photographing at hardcore shows around the area for a zine she self-publishes, “Through Our Eyes.”

“So often,” she says of the music scene, “you’ll see these people taking a million photos a second, and to me it’s just waste. When I shoot film, I only have 36 shots before I gotta risk reloading in the middle of the pit, so every shot I have to make count. It keeps me in that moment, with this kind of clarity. When you get the shot, even though you can’t see it, you just know that you got that moment perfect. That moment means everything to me. I wouldn’t trade it for the world, and digital will never come close.”

But that’s not why I was taking her picture. Our story, published next week, is about Astor’s four year search for a demo tape — yes, an analog cassette — from her mother’s teenage band.

I enjoyed talking with her about photography, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what digital photography has brought us.

Film demanded patience and technical precision. Digital offered instant feedback and greater flexibility in lighting conditions.

Photojournalists delivered images faster, adapted to the demands of online media and met tighter and more frequent deadlines.

The transition hasn’t changed the way I see, and interpret. I still emphasize composition, context, or complexity. However, I have adapted and adjusted. I see the value in making the kinds of thumbnails that online platforms prioritize to generate algorithmic attention.

Between photographing for stories on assignment I still wander whatever neighborhood I am in looking for “standalones.”

But I am also always on the lookout for “stock” photos that can be used as thumbnails with future stories. Think images of police tape or flashing lights, city street scenes, and skylines, educational, civic, and medical institutions.

After an assignment at the Philadelphia Art Museum, I loitered outside.

Ahead of Sunday’s wildcard playoff game against the San Francisco 49ers, the museum put up giant cutouts of four Eagles players on its iconic front steps. The cutouts first appeared in 2014 (before the Birds’ wild-card loss to the New Orleans Saints) and again a few times over the years, including before both Super Bowl wins in 2018 and last year.

The newspaper already has lots of photos from the steps, including many of that movie prop, but I knew the city’s Art Commission is voting next week to see if it stays, or not.

So what’s one — or two — more? (There are currently two versions at the museum!)

If it stays, the “original” version of the statue from 1982’s Rocky III that now sits at street level would be moved inside the museum for an exhibit this summer, then go back outside and installed at the top of the steps “permanently.” And the “second casting” statue there now “temporarily” would be returned to Sylvester Stallone.

(If it sounds like I have more than a passing interest in this, I do. Reporter Mike Vitez and I spent an entire year on the steps to produce the locally best-selling book Rocky Stories: Tales of Love, Hope, and Happiness at America’s Most Famous Steps.)

It was that really nice, warm sprint-like day we had on Wednesday, following those bitterly cold first days of 2026, so I didn’t mind being outside making “stock” photos.

And THAT’S when I spotted a real moment — the kind photographers live for — of the family taking selfies on the steps, and how I ended up making the photo at the very top of this column.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.

Just a week ago, in my last column of 2025 I said I was looking forward. So where do I go in the very first column of 2026?

When you drive for decades all over the city on assignment certain streets, buildings or neighborhoods tilt you toward the past.

Memories don’t just live in one place but are scattered across the map, waiting around a corner, or sitting on a stoop like an old friend. Every recurring event or anniversary replays images in my head.

I went to the Convention Center two days before the Mummers Parade, looking as I have many times, to make a photo ahead of the event.

But this year, there were no Fancy Brigade members in the cavernous room. Nobody working on their elaborate stage sets or rehearsing their Broadway-quality choreographed performances.

As a cost-cutting measure this year, the clubs only booked the hall (and union workers) for an eight-hour shift in the evening. No early overtime.

So there I was, “seeing” feathered and sequined Mummer ghosts of my memory dancing through the hall. Then, like in the 2006 movie Night at the Museum. I almost wondered if a Greek god, 15 foot high Tiki figure or jester would suddenly come alive.

On New Year’s Eve, I photographed a 93 year-old Welsh grandmother visiting the Mummers Museum.

The next day she was to live her dream of going to the parade. I wondered what she was thinking the next day, even as I photographed it for my umpteenth time, collecting more memories and learning, as always, how to see things in new ways.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.

I set out deliberately this week to make an astronomical event photo for this space. I’ve done Santa and a menorah already this winter so I wanted to give props to the solstice.

With the days getting shorter leading up Dec. 21, I first thought of sunset occurring earlier. But I worked nights for many years and photographed many of those.

Then I thought of all the time I’ve spent in our city’s historic district. (I love history, as the following paragraphs will attest, and I expect I’ll be there even more in 2026 as we celebrate the Semiquincentennial.)

I recalled a Chippendale armchair in the Assembly Room of Independence Hall made by Philadelphia cabinetmaker John Folwell in the years after our country was born. George Washington sat in the mahogany chair with a gilded sun carved into it for three months in 1787 as he presided over the Constitutional Convention.

Benjamin Franklin is credited with immortalizing the chair at the close of the convention, expressing his optimism for the future of the new nation while looking at the design.

”Often and often … I have looked at that {sun} … without being able to tell whether it was rising or setting, but now at length, I have the happiness to know that it is a rising and not a setting sun.”

That’s why I decided to get out early this week to find a photo at sunrise, as I look ahead to the future.

However, speaking of history, there is also an established tradition of news organizations looking back at the end of the year.

So here is the Inquirer photo staff’s “Year in Review.” A visual record of the challenges, achievements, and the everyday moments of a year lived in full.

2025, as seen through our lenses.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.

Can you see all four? There is one “real” image of SEPTA trolley operator Victoria Daniels and three different reflections.

I only saw two reflections as I was trying to focus and compose while bracing my camera on the back of a seat to stabilize myself on the moving trolley. I wanted to photograph the light at the end of the tunnel (the metaphor was apt, as tens of thousands of riders are hoping for some relief as service in the Center City Tunnel has been shut down for weeks.)

Sound like I was having fun? (I was.)

SEPTA held a press conference to update commuters on repairs after glitches stranded passengers in the tunnel and the Federal Transit Administration ordered the agency to inspect the catenary system (the connection between the overhead wires and the pole that conducts electricity to the vehicle) along all its trolley routes.

More than just a “talker” the SEPTA folks first showed lots of equipment parts and then we got to take a field trip, riding a trolley into the closed tunnel to see where they were repairing the overhead wire.

While, for most of the media, the ride was just a way to get to the closed station for the show-and-tell, for me it was an opportunity to take pictures out the windows — something I like to do anytime I am on public transit. And play around with exposures …

…which sometimes just doesn’t work out.

Two things that did work out photographically this week; the first snowfall of the season:

And, on the same day, a firefighter Santa riding through the neighborhood.

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:

» SEE MORE: Archived columns and Twenty years of a photo column.