Seeing Pittsburgh through old/young eyes
Whenever my son visits from his home in Vancouver, British Columbia, he invariably describes Pittsburgh as “old.” His reaction causes me to search for bricks marred by wrinkles and trees bent over from arthritis.
My daughter cannot comprehend how a major urban area can go to sleep so early. As a resident of Manhattan, she wonders how we Pittsburghers survive without 24/7 coffee shops or the moonlit delivery of dinners or bagels.
Unlike my children, I see Pittsburgh with my heart, not my eyes. Despite spending 35 years of my adulthood primarily in the suburbs of Detroit, I have always considered Pittsburgh home. I refuse to see the city’s flaws, preferring instead to embrace the memories that endear this city to me.
After hours of shopping at Kaufmann’s, with a short lunch at the Tic Toc Corner, Ma and I would stand under the clock and debate the merits of trekking to Horne’s. We usually succumbed to the surprise sales that awaited us — and to the magic of cutting through the Jenkins Arcade. The arcade was like a marble village with shops that held all kinds of treasures. Hearing Ma tell me again how her sister had once dated the owner of the dress store, I would imagine what might have been had Aunt Gert married the man. I could have then glided into the store like a princess; the salespeople, recognizing my royal connection, would have treated me with deference — and discounts.
I see East Liberty, especially the Penn and Highland avenues area, as it once was — a bustling center for shopping, eating, moviegoing and socializing. Every Monday morning, Dad would take me to the Five ’n Ten so I could select a new outfit for one of my dolls. I opened my first Christmas Savings Club account at an East Liberty bank, devoured my first cheeseburger at Gammons and collected books of green stamps at Mansmann’s, which I later redeemed for a prize.
Today’s patrons, young and old, probably think the new East Liberty library, with its tables of computers, is cool, but I will always prefer the old East Liberty library — more medieval than modern — with its smells of musty books mixing with the tantalizing aromas of hot dogs and chili from the nearby Original.
The Boulevard of the Allies will always evoke images of skyscraper chocolate marshmallow cones, fingers sticky from dripping ice cream and Pittsburgh families patiently awaiting their turn for an Isaly’s Saturday night treat.
When Dad and I used to take my son or daughter on a drive through the past in Stanton Heights, my kids saw small houses built on small lots; the houses seemed to struggle for breath — and identity — in such a claustrophobic setting. I, however, saw front doors swinging open as we kids rushed outside to build snowmen in the street, twirl hulahoops and play games of kickball or hide ’n seek. I saw porches on which grandparents rocked, parents read the paper or talked about the day’s events, and my friends and I played board games during a time when play dates occurred naturally without the aide of technological scheduling devices.
“Pittsburgh has nothing like the walking trails of Vancouver’s Stanley Park,” my son boasts. Maybe, I whisper, but only Pittsburgh has the Highland Park reservoir around which I walked and walked, knowing a ride to Glen’s for custard would be my reward. Only Pittsburgh has the shady streets of Shadyside and the treelined streets of Squirrel Hill. Only the ice cream store servers in Pittsburgh are willing to make me a chocolate phosphate — Dad’s favorite cold drink.
“Nothing can compare to the Bronx Zoo,” my daughter insists as we visit the Pittsburgh Zoo. Maybe, I murmur, but only at the Pittsburgh Zoo did I take a pony ride, feed the bears and watch Dad make faces at the monkeys.
My children see Pittsburgh as an older, somewhat provincial city; some city planners and residents view Pittsburgh as a Renaissance City on the brink of a new identity.
I see Pittsburgh as my past and as my anchor — as the city that has always provided me with constancy in a life of change and with golden memories that keep me going when events tarnish my golden years.