Live From ...

Northwest Philadelphia is still quiet just after 6 Christmas Eve morning. As the car crosses Lincoln Drive and begins to climb Wayne Avenue, the bright, round moon outshines the street lights. A jogger crosses McCallum Street Bridge, over the Wissahickon Creek. He is a lone figure moving across my car headlights. Parking is plentiful along Germantown Avenue in Chestnut Hill, and only three people stand in line at the local Starbucks, known for elbow to elbow lines early on weekday mornings and later on weekends.

Parking spots outnumber the dozen or so cars parked in the lot alongside the walkway that runs from The Plaza into Macy's, at King of Prussia's Court. It is about 7 a.m., opening hour for the big department store. The sky is light, the moon still visible. But within 30 minutes, as the cars stream into the lot, the sun begins to rise, casting a blinding glare over the lot. Still, the parking spaces far outnumber the cars. Ten minutes before 8, and most of the 11th hour shoppers are men. Did you hear about the study released late last week? One in 5 men had not started Christmas shopping. Here they are.

The clock on the Watch Doctor kiosk says 9:09. The line in the Starbucks across from the kiosk says a.m. The Court at King of Prussia is coming awake as more shoppers move along the shiny, cream-colored tile floor. Catch a male mall-goer at one of the chairs posted at a bend in the railing that runs up and down that floor. "People are going to look at me and think I'm a last-minute shopper," Mark Parisi says, laughing. "I'm not." Parisi says he showed up at the mall about 8:30 a.m. from Lansdale. He's waiting for his mother-in-law and sister-in-law. They're in Cranes _ visiting someone they know, not shopping. "I bought my aunt some chocolates," Parisi says, looking into a small gold Godiva bag. "It's a good day to be here." He's done with his shopping.

That's what Jim Kelsh and his daughter, Megan, call what they do every Christmas Eve. Kelsh sits in one of the chairs along the railing while Megan, 22, waits in the coffee line. "It's like a tradition for my daughter and me." When he told her this year, "Hon, I think I'm done," she demanded: "What, no surgical strike?" So, here they are, in from Audubon, Pa. "You get personal deals today," Kelsh says. See a shirt you like? "People have started to mark stuff down." One other thing. "Our son's girlfriend is coming to the mix." They need a present. "She doesn't drink coffee," Megan says, stopping to sip hers. They move out, for the tea place downstairs.

Early in the day, even Christmas Eve day, mall music is the soundtrack. Not enough shoppers here for the quiet roar of conversations, squealing children and cell phone chatter to duel it down. "Obygollyhaveahollyjolly" races through the air in kitchen wares, lower level Macy's. Then, right at the entrance to the mall, as you are leaving the store, a collision. Running over the frenetic "hollyjolly" is a rich baritone, rolling out slowly. "Oh ... by ...gosh ... by ... golly ... it's ... time ... for ... mistletoe ... and holly....

Go the mall on Christmas Eve expecting to see caffeine-fueled shoppers and you might miss the others. "We've been done with our shopping for a while, or my wife has," Don Gorman says at The Plaza. "We're just hanging out," wife/family shopper Karen says. Come on, why else drive here from Phoenixville? "To let the kids run, so they don't drive us crazy." Daniel, 3, stands tippy-toe in the stroller. Ashley, 4, leans into the fountain, and Rachel, not yet 2, does a squirmy-whine in Dad's hands. "I think she's hungry," the dad says. While here, they are spending money, too. "There're a couple of sales," Dan says. "I needed a new pair of jeans and my wife needed a new heating pad."

Medea Burdjanadze sits in the Plaza's Cafe Court. She is from Georgia, the former Soviet Republic, via the University of Vermont, where she's a visiting scholar. Today, her study is us. Or, us shopping. "We have to build our economy," Burdjanadze says of Georgia. "I have to buy something because my money I give for other people," expressing the humanistic side of capitalism. She's here because her friend told her: "This mall is very famous in the United States." Her friend is at work today, but her friend's mother sweeps the dust and trash off the floor at the mall. In Georgia, the mother was a linguist. Burdjanadze remembers years ago when she saw President Clinton on TV, visiting the Mall of America in Minneapolis on Christmas Eve. "Maybe this mall is also where the president is coming." She smiles and chuckles.

They're gone now. It's after noon. You can still find a free bench. But if you're walking, you're not making time. "I wanted to come when no one was here, so we came early, by 9 a.m." That's Patty Volpi. She was studying the calendars at a kiosk in The Plaza about 10:30 a.m. _ and leaving in "10 minutes," said daughter Jenna, 13. They live in King of Prussia, five minutes from the mall. "We're here all the time," Mom says. Jenna needed gifts for friends, so they were here again, but early. "You can park close by and walk in." That's something folks rolling through the parking lot now can only dream of. Take my space. I'm out of here.

Lucy Anderson hates to shop. That's why she waits until Christmas Eve to do it. "Then, you can't stress over something. ... It's Christmas Eve. What are you going to do? Wait 'til tomorrow?" Anderson is from Conshohocken. Her sister, Virginia Rogers, is from Lafayette Hill and their brother, Pat Anderson, is up from Miami. The three of them spilled out of the Target on Chemical Road in Plymouth Township after just 15 minutes. Before that, they'd been at King of Prussia. "We got there around 12 o'clock. We were out about 1," Lucy says. They stand on the curb outside Target squabbling over who lost the car keys. (No chance of losing the car. The Target parking lot looks emptier than on a normal weekend.) "You forgot that tomorrow was Christmas," Lucy finally says to Virginia. "I did," her sister says.

There he is. Right off the Ninth Street entrance to the Gallery in Center City. You can tell by the line. Longest line I've seen all day. Beth Branconi says it's about this long every year, right up to the steps leading to the street. "It's like a tradition we have," she's says, coming down from Northeast Philadelphia. Standing next to her, and just about as tall, are son Anthony, 13, and daughter Brianna, 11-almost-12. Brianna says they're holding onto the magic for their little brother, Mikey, who is just a year. Mikey's taking it in from the shoulders of his dad, Joe. Santa is their first stop. "We're doing this first cause of the line," Beth says. "Then we do the light show, then we'll do the Ebenezer village." She's doing for them what her mom did for her when she was a girl growing up in West Philadelphia. "Every year. Every year to the Gallery."