Spring 2025: Philadelphia — SIMPLE + SOUND

For as long as I can remember, the Rocky series have been my favorite movies. I was probably Eva’s age when I first dreamed of running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art just like Rocky Balboa…perhaps even with Rocky Balboa (though multiple attempts to proposition Sly Stallone for a run and a Philly cheesesteak on me were unfortunately unsuccessful).

This past school year, we studied U.S. government and the Constitution, so I wanted to take the kids to see in person Independence Hall and the other historical sites we’d read about. But in the forefront of my mind was marking the Rocky tour off my bucket list. Our chance came Mother’s Day weekend, which we spent exploring Philadelphia, culminated in a run up the Rocky steps.

Our first afternoon in Philly, we explored Reading Terminal Market and enjoyed gluten-free corn dogs at Fox and Son’s. For dinner, I made reservations at The Victor Cafe, where Adrian’s in Rocky Balboa was filmed. The wait staff at The Victor are all professional opera singers, and they take turns singing a number from different famous operas every 20 minutes, so the experience at this cafe included dinner and a show. The kids and I all tried crème brûlée for the first time, and it was fun to get dressed up and pretend to be in Rocky’s restaurant for a night. (Okay, I was the only one pretending, but still…it was fun.)

Riley perfectly captured our collective reaction to the creme brûlée, which if you ask me, was a little over-torched. The French restaurant in Ottawa was perfection!

The next day, we hit all of the historical landmarks: President House; the Liberty Bell; Benjamin Franklin’s gravesite, printing press, and home; Betsy Ross’s house and grave marker; Independence Hall; Carpenter Hall; ChristChurch. I’m not much of a history buff; it’s been a stretch to keep up with the kids’ love of history. But it was a whole experience to walk into the room where the actual Declaration of Independence was signed, to see the seats where our founding fathers rested as they chose to commit treason in order to uphold their ideals of what a country should be. To see the chair with the rising sun, where George Washington himself sat. (I somehow missed the fact that George Washington didn’t actually sign the Declaration of Independence; he was, after all, leading the charge on the battlefield during the Revolution. Like I said, history isn’t my strong suit. But he sat in the chair at other meetings nonetheless.)

We enjoyed seeing the Liberty Bell; the symbolism that its notability comes from its brokenness—its imperfection—isn’t lost on me. However, while we were at the Liberty Bell display, the national park ranger mentioned another significant bell, the Justice Bell, which was designed by women as a physical representation of the fight for women’s suffrage. Commissioned by Katharine Wentworth Ruschenberger in 1915, it was intentionally kept silent until the 19th Amendment, which granted women the right to vote, was passed in 1920. While the Liberty Bell cracked during use, the Justice Bell remains intact to this day, on display at Valley Forge Historical National Park. (Maybe they should have let a woman design the Liberty Bell, too.)

For lunch, we found an interesting little dive, O Brother’s in Old City, that offered gluten-free Philly cheesesteaks, which were delicious and a must when visiting Philadelphia. After woofing down our sandwiches, we headed across the street to the Franklin Fountain for ice cream. You know it’s going to be good ice cream when the employee is wearing a bow tie and button-down. 100% recommend both of these establishments.

We spent the evening meandering around the city center, stopping by the iconic LOVE sign for a quick photo op. We walked through city hall and waved hello to the people of Poland through the portal that is set up inside the courtyard. (They all waved back.) For dinner, we ate at a yummy but LOUD Mexican cantina called Sueño. Midway through our meal, we started hearing a loud throbbing noise coming from the street. It grew increasingly louder until at once, a trio of drummers walked inside the restaurant, one dressed in a full-body Elmo costume, advocating against gun violence. “Put down the guns, pick up some drums,” said a sign hanging from the frontman’s tom set. Apparently, these guys are a local treasure, as a group at the bar cheered and grabbed their phones to take videos when they walked in, ecstatic to “have finally caught a glimpse of them.” But the sudden booming noise startled and overwhelmed Eva, who needed to sit outside with Kelley and calm down for the remainder of the meal.

Sunday, on Mother’s Day, was the crescendo of the entire weekend—The Rocky steps. I special-ordered a “Win Rocky Win” shirt and had waited months for this particular moment to wear it. It was a toasty, brisk 30 minute walk from our hotel to the museum, but pleasant. There was no lack of interesting things to look at along the way. To be honest, I was a bundle of nerves. I’d built this moment up in my mind for years, dreamed of it since childhood, and everything had to be perfect. We had already shared the movie series with the kids, so they were excited, too.

There are actually two Rocky statues: one in a small courtyard to the right side of the museum, and the real one, the larger one, that sat at the top of the steps, centered in front of the museum entrance. First, we went to the courtyard, where a man had set up a space there to take photos for tourists. He has been in that spot for the past 20 years, blasting “Eye of the Tiger” on his boombox and offering photo sessions in exchange for cash tips. We fully embraced his offer, and received in exchange close to 40 photos on my phone, each of us with the statue, posed at his promptings, and some family photos as well.

Next was the big moment. We headed over to the bottom of the museum steps. I had “Gonna Fly Now” cued up on my phone to the exact moment in the song that Rocky is galloping of the steps at top speed, a gaggle of kids running behind him. Kelley was going to video the kids and me running up first, with the music playing on my phone. And then we’d swap. He said “go,” and we bolted up the steps as fast as our legs would lift us. Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I felt as if I were flying, imagining Rocky Balboa running next to me, pushing me faster and farther up the steps. We made it to the top at record speed (for us), pumping our fists above our heads in classic Rocky fashion. What a thrill! What a memory!

Then, as I turned around, my hands on my knees catching my breath, my eyes caught Kelley standing at the bottom, waving us back down the steps. We descended, and he said, “Don’t hate me, but you’re going to have to do it again. The video didn’t record.”

This would happen to us. I shouldn’t have been surprised. But all of the heat from that morning collected at the back of my neck. I began dripping sweat from the fast-paced walk to the museum in direct sunlight, the thick denim shorts I chose to wear, my hair long and thick down my back, and the sprint up 72 steps. I was out of breath, my face was red, and my shirt was damp.

“Going that one more round when you don’t think you can, that’s what makes all the difference in your life.” This is my favorite quote in Rocky IV, and it’s the same quote that’s emblazoned at the base of the Rocky statue. It is the quote that ran through my head during cross country races in high school, during the half marathon Kelley and I ran pre-kids, midway up the 4-mile trail to Mirror Lake in drifts of snow level with my shoulders, and in other high-pressure situations I’ve found myself in over my lifetime.

And it rang true in this moment. One more time, we bolted up the steps. It was much harder, and slightly slower, the second time, after the sun and heat had caught up with me. But we did it. The kids coached each other, “Don’t pass Mom; let her lead!” as they ran with me. At the top, the kids and I all high-fived as we sucked in oxygen.

I didn’t expect to get weepy, but I did. I didn't realize just how much I loved the Rocky movies until that moment. I don’t know exactly why I fell so hard in love with the storyline, but it resonated with me deeply. Those movies have been an integral part of my growing up. I remembered running through my hilly old neighborhood in Southside, Alabama, carrying my discman in hand, careful to hold it straight so that my Rocky soundtrack didn’t skip with my cadence. Carefully hanging my Rocky posters in my upstairs bedroom as a teenager. Receiving the full Rocky box series (on VHS!) after my high school graduation. Walking into worship band practice at the Baptist Student Union at Mississippi State University on a Monday evening to find a 2-ft. tall talking Rocky doll standing under my microphone, a souvenir gifted to me from my bass player and good friend David after he returned from a school trip to Philly. He knew how much I loved the movies; we’d watched a Rocky marathon at my apartment that year, so when he saw the doll, he felt I needed to have it. The doll stared at me during my post-pregnancy workouts in our basement workout space in our Birmingham house, daring me to push myself harder.

And there I was, on Mother’s Day, standing in the same spot (in the literal footstep markers) where Rocky Balboa stood at the top of those steps, looking out at the city of Philadelphia just like he did with my family nearby, the next generation of Rocky enthusiasts. It was surreal—a tearful moment I will never forget.

Oh yeah, and we celebrated with Okie Dokie Donuts afterwards, a made-to-order gluten-free donut hole-in-the-wall in South Philly. They were delicious, although I don’t recommend eating a freshly made, warm Boston cream doughnut; vanilla custard and chocolate ganache (and a run up 7 flights of stairs) are best served cold.