I think so, friends...I think so.

(You'll forgive me -- I am a partisan of Wawa.)

NANCY adds: Charles, Wawa! I love it. I used to walk to the Philly Wawa near our house every night when David was working late at our place on 9th and Chestnut to get ice cream. They sell an ice cream I've not seen anywhere else, at least not in the South. It was chocolate ice cream with chocolate chunks, with a thick layer of Dove dark chocolate on the top of it! So around eleven o'clock, I'd traipse down the hall, get into the elevator, and walk through the large cavernous lobby past Ed -- the doorman at the Benjamin Franklin House. (Seriously, check out that lobby!)

Every night, he'd say, "You taking an ice cream run?"

"Yep."

So he'd take his break, grab his cigarettes, and walk me the two or three blocks to the Wawa so I wouldn't be the next statistic on the news the next day. There were a few pretty high profile murders around our building during the years we were there. One right in front of our entrance.

A few months after we moved, I got word he hadn't come into work for a few successive days. When they finally went to check on him, they discovered he'd passed away in his apartment.

All this to say, every time I hear of a Wawa, I think of chocolate ice cream and cigarettes and the wonderful go-the-extra yard doorman and friend we had in Ed Collins.

UPDATE: Here's a photo of Mr. Ed with Camille. Every day when we walked home from school the kids ran to him and gave him a bear hug, this enormous man with tattooed hands.