By Shelli Fedullo
A week before Labor Day, my 32-year-old lawyer son and his 73-year-old lawyer mother went to the Philadelphia Zoo. The first of many zoo trips that I can remember was about 69 years ago, when I was four. It was my mother, my 14-year-old aunt, and me. Family legend has it that when my mother pointed out an anteater, I jumped in front of my aunt, pushed her away and said, "He ain’t gonna eat my aunt." My aunt recently verified the truth of this story. I observed no anteaters on this visit. If there were any, they probably hid in fear, just in case. Happily, my grammar has improved.
From the time I was nine until my early teens, my mother and I would schlep to the zoo on a bus and a trolley. We started from our Logan neighborhood, took the C bus that ran on Broad Street, then the Girard Avenue trolley. Both sides of the main entrance to the zoo along Girard Avenue were lined with vendors hawking balloons, souvenirs, and toys that I can still picture, and still feel the longing for. By then, my father had passed away and my mother, like most women, was ridiculously underpaid (just saying). Despite tight finances, she always got me at least one toy, although being a kid my dream was to buy ALL the toys, especially the dolls on sticks that were sort of dressed like mummers. Lots of feathers and glitter. So beautiful. I guess the vendors opted for multi-purposed inventory, because I remember seeing those same dolls being sold along Broad Street during the Mummers Parade. Speaking of things on sticks, one of my favorite zoo souvenirs was a monkey on a stick that you could make climb up and down. They broke pretty easily, or at least I managed to break them, so I usually would get a new one. Getting a zoo key to insert in boxes to hear about the animals was a luxury item we couldn’t afford, but there were always people with zoo keys around, so even without a key you could listen.
Everything about the zoo thrilled me, but the time I met Sally Starr (if this icon is unknown to you, please ask your parents, grandparents, or Google her) at the children’s zoo still gives me chills of delight. Sally Starr. So blonde. So pretty. Such beautiful outfits. Such a wonderful cowgirl.
In my early 30s, my mother, my stepfather, and I went to the zoo together. I took a ride on a baby elephant. The elephant guy who helped to seat me looked around to see if someone was going to bring a kid to join me. He shook his head a little when none was forthcoming. I didn't care.
Another 10 years later, my mother and I took my son to the zoo, and he rode the baby elephant with me. He was very young, but was very, very, very brave on the elephant. The children’s zoo was a whole different story. The chickens freely walking around near him were not well received , and let's just say the pony ride (adults could not ride with their kids) was met with even less enthusiasm .
I had not been to the zoo for maybe about 20 years. The last time was for the last “Boo at the Zoo” event held by the YLD. My late husband Bill was there too. It would be an understatement to say Bill did not share my fondness for the zoo, so it was never the location of romantic dates, like in the movies, and I guess real life too. But he was a good sport and would go when necessary.
So, have you ever heard the one about the two lawyers who went to the zoo? The punch line is that it was wonderful. We took Ubers, a service which had not yet been invented the last time I was there. Although I didn’t have the walking along Girard Avenue from the trolley (now a bus) experience of my youth, looking around I didn’t see any vendors selling toys and souvenirs. I was a little disappointed, but then I didn’t really need any dolls on sticks which I might not have been able to restrain myself from buying. The stuffed tortoise and stuffed giraffe that came home from the gift shop (Horace and Austin, respectively) have made me very happy. Tickets had to be purchased online. Back in my early zoo days, this concept would have been science fiction.
When we walked through the turnstiles, I felt this rush of pure happiness. Writing about it now makes me feel it again and smile. Somehow, through zoo magic, the little girl me was there too.
I have always loved tortoises, and I know they live a very long time. When one who we had been watching for a while walked closer to the fence near us, it felt like we had met before. Don’t judge me, please. At least I don’t claim he recognized me (or I am not claiming it in print). By mutual agreement we skipped the bird house, but we visited the houses with snakes, alligators and crocodiles. My son and I both especially liked seeing the hippos, rhinos and orangutans. When I spotted the giraffes, which have always been one of my favorites, I sort of shrieked, “Look, the giraffes.” My son said, “Mom, you sound like a child” but he was smiling. I also liked seeing the zebras that were in the same area as the giraffes, but in my opinion, there is just nothing like a giraffe. There was also amazing topiary, giant plant-based sculptures of animals, there temporarily though October. I was a little sad that I didn’t see any peacocks walking around, but that didn’t diminish the overall experience.
I know this may read like that first week of school essay, when you are asked to write about a summer experience, so I need to get to the points I hope to make. Being a lawyer is a very great privilege. Being a lawyer can also deliver significant impacts to your derriere. Once years ago, in discussing my stress level with my mother, I said I felt like I was always playing multiple simultaneous games of three-dimensional chess. Another time I told her I felt like I had just performed brain surgery on myself. Many, or even most of you know what I am talking about, and have your own way of describing it. But if you don’t at least stop to think about or talk about it, it can get you.
The stress inherent in our careers can’t constantly be swept under the rug. At some point the rug will get uneven and lumpy and cause us to lose our footing. For most of my career, the concept of attorney wellness was not yet a “thing”. As resistant as I once was, I have become a believer. We each have different things that bring us happiness, and we need to make ourselves make time to do them. My point isn’t that wellness requires a return visit to childhood, but if every so often it helps to give yourself permission to be childlike, you are not being childish. If it makes you happy, go read a comic book. Have a milkshake and fries. Do the childhood thing you wanted to do - have dessert for dinner or eat dessert first. Build something out of Legos. If you don’t have an available kid, get some Legos for yourself. Buy a huge box of Crayola crayons and some grown-up (or not) coloring books. Don’t beat yourself up if sometimes you don’t color inside the lines. Reread the Pooh books. Go to the zoo. Do the inner child thing that will make you smile. It’s all OK.
Rochelle M. Fedullo is a former chancellor of the Philadelphia Bar Association, co-editor in chief of The Philadelphia Lawyer magazine and of counsel to The Weitz Firm, LLC.
