This time last year, I was prancing down Market St., dressed as a clown, happily taking part with my family in the city's annual Thanksgiving Day Parade.

I can't march this year  - I'm still hobbled by the foot surgery that laid me up for six weeks.  (This thanksgiving, what I'm most thankful for is my medical insurance...). 

But I thought I'd share this photo of Yours Truly from last year's march, where I encountered Michael Nutter, who'd just won the mayoral election by a landslide.

Looking at it, I get wistful for where we were back then, as a city.

It was a glorious day. The temperature was warm, the air soft and lovely; people stripped off their jackets, tied their sweatshirts around their waists, marveled at the sunshine that gave the day a feeling of surreal giddiness.

Nutter worked the curbside crowds like a rock star, and people jostled to shake his hand, slap his back, tell him they'd voted for him. He couldn't stop grinning.

Nutter was in a fabulous honeymoon with us, having won the mayoralty after a civilized, thoughtful campaign against Al Taubenberger, a gentlemanly sweetheart of an opponent. Their competition was smart, respectful and pleasant - nothing at all like the venomous battle that had pitted John Street against Sam Katz back in 2003.

There'd been no City Hall bugs. No allegations of fiscal malfeasance. No nasty race-baiting. Just a straight-up election and the feeling, afterward, that it really might be a New Day in Philly.

You could almost feel the city's self-esteem righting itself.

The many police officers who lined the parade route wore small, black ribbons in honor of slain Philly Police Officer Chuck Cassidy, who'd been buried just two weeks before. There was a tenderness in the air, as citizens smiled at the officers who waved them across the street. Or shook the cops' hands and thanked them for their service to the city.

What a day it was: A mix of silliness and sadness, pride and anticipation, set against a backdrop of ridiculously perfect weather that made you believe that anything was possible.

A year later, so much has changed.

Mayor Nutter's honeymoon with the city is officially over, the specter of a ballooning deficit prompting him to close beloved libraries, pools and firehouses. Voters who scrambled over each other to shake his hand last year may today angrily turn their backs on him - or worse.

And four more officers - exemplary, wonderful sentries of our city's streets - have perished in the line of duty since last Thanksgiving, leaving us numb and disbelieving.

What a difference twelve months makes in the life of a city. How tough it is to feel hope today. And how dearly I wish that, by next Thanksgiving, our city is in a better place.