Cocoons aren't that ugly

I was caught in the pack of like-minded pedestrians headed to the nearby restaurants for their 45 minute lunch breaks. We were on auto-pilot, passing through the intersection at 4th and Market. I was wearing charcoal slacks, a gray and black coat, a gray stocking cap, black scarf and carrying a black umbrella...so was everyone else in my entourage.

Approaching from the opposite direction was a group of tourists on a guided tour with Betsy Ross (or was it Dolly Madison?) - they all stared as we passed.

I saw on their faces looks of pity and misunderstanding. These good folks from rural PA or north Delaware think we are all focused, hard, dark and cynical people that don the uniform of our brothers - dark and skin-covering.

This makes me glad. Not because I want to conform to the city around me. I don't wish to be swallowed by darkness or form a calloused heart. This makes me glad because I know something they do not...

Underneath my drab outerwear, hidden by the hood pulled to my eyes and scarf wrapped tightly to my chin, is a tangerine-orange, long-sleeved thermal shirt. Bright orange!

Much like the city I call home, all you have to do is remove one layer before uncovering things brighter than the matching name-tags identifying the judgmental tourists. Local pubs full of friends, quaint shops carrying unique finds, a bank with a teller who knows your name...all these things, and more, are the bright orange shirts of my beloved CBL.

And that's something that Betsy won't tell you!