Blogging in from Pittsburgh
Pittsburgh. Steel town. Not any more.
the sisters three
It’s the last day of my long-ish weekend here having witnessed the high school graduation of my dear niece, Emma. The one who sprouted from a wee little cherub to a five foot ten powerhouse of brains, beauty and personality.
Scary.
I came from the suffocating heat of 95 degree South Florida just in time for the delicious aftermath of dramatic and somewhat damaging Pittsburgh rains (a la the new globally shifty weather patterns). After a reported four inches of rain in just a few hours, I basked in daytime temps of a perfect 75 and evenings in the 60′s. I won’t see those again in Florida for what will feel like years. I’m thankful.
This town amazes me. Just blocks from both sisters’ homes in Highland Park, my sister and I can go walking for an hour (maybe 45 minutes for most people — she’s a slow walker) and be in the woods the entire time. My first northern treat was the viewing of a wild turkey. The massive (and my sister calls “stupid”) bird winged its way across the street into the trees of the actual park that Highland Park is named for. A wild turkey, fancy that, stupid or not, the only turkeys you’ll find by that name in Florida (I’m sure you see this coming) are on the label of a whiskey bottle and in the state cabinet.
Bird crazy as I am, I got to see red ones, yellow ones, crimson-winged black ones and the bird that calls to my childhood, the common robin-red-breast. Just another brown bird here among the twittery little sparrows, the robin’s a wow for me.
No screeching wild green parrots on the telephone wires here. Or in cages in living rooms like some places I know.
The charming houses are old and big. The towering buildings downtown are new and shiny. Some old and majestic with history lingering in the artifices. The neighborhoods are trendy. There’s a small town feeling in a fairly big expanse. It’s community in its mostly successful expression.
I love that you can access wilderness to the left and big city digs to the right in Pittsburgh. That you can still buy a great big house for a song. There’s diversity in the people here. There’s efficient mass transit.
And, there’s my sisters.
Long time residents of this western Pennsylvania hamlet (ok, so I’m stretching the poetry a little) my sisters have created enviable lifestyles here. With families in tow, they’ve dug in their heels and after forays in Eugene and Philadelphia, these Jersey girls have made Pittsburgh home. When I visit, they extend that comfort to me.
This morning, one sister said, “you know, you can stay, don’t you?”
Kind.
As much as I’d love to share America’s most liveable city with them (as voted for the third time), I’m waiting for Pittsburgh to become oceanfront property and for the sun to make a more permanent commitment to this town.
All told, except for this lucky, lucky weekend, Pittsburgh is gray.
It was red and black yesterday at my niece’s graduation. It was black and gold for both last November’s Superbowl victory and the recent Stanley Cup win for the Penguins (formerly blue and white until 1980) but gray is the color of my sisters’ true love town.
Thank you for sharing the multi-faceted joys of Pittsburgh with me but I’m afraid the sunshine deprivation on a permanent basis would kill me.
Congratulations, Emma, on your rite of passage from high school to college. Thank you sisters for making me feel at home. And, to the rest of my familial cast of Pittsburgh characters, thanks for giving me something to blog about.
Back in Florida with more writing/publishing musings tomorrow.
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