Local Voyeur Celine Roberts
Any local will tell you that Pittsburgh is the most overlooked town in America. He’ll ramble on and on about the beauty of the city and its citizens. “What character!”, he’ll tell you, slamming his hand down on the nearest hard surface for emphasis. If you are not a local, now is the time when you might begin to grow uncomfortable. That fanatical gleam is putting you off, (and good lord the volume!), but he’ll go on. You can see the veins start to appear on the native’s forehead as he proudly proclaims, “This tahn brought itself up from nothing!” Fear sets in for his skyrocketing blood pressure, so you fidget and as you try to stammer in some comment to change the subject, the tirade stops and you are given a knowing and slightly disapproving look by your Pittsburgh compatriot. “Oh, just wait”, he’ll promise you, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “This city is inescapable.” Now, the conversation ends abruptly and you are left to ponder how one minute you were having a very nice drink at your neighborhood bar, and the next, you were cast into something that was beginning to sound like a horror flick.
The most terrifying part of this scenario is that you will come to find that he is right. I moved here from Akron, Ohio, a little city put on the map by Goodyear Tires and the rubber industry. Nothing makes me feel more at home than a backdrop of smokestacks and the threads of railroad tracks winding through the foreground. In this way, Pittsburgh suits my tastes. The urban views that greeted me as I came in on 279 North for the first time assured me of that. Post-industrial beauty isn’t lost on me but until last Tuesday the spirit of this town was.
My wake up call came on a stroll through Schenly Park. The sun was glaring over the hills, setting off the leaves to their best advantage. I’d been picking my way around for over an hour, thinking about nothing in particular and was finally about to crest the hill I’d been lurching my way up for the last ten minutes. Puffing a little and turning up my collar against the breeze, I made it the last couple steps to the top and turned around. The view of the city hit me just like the wind. It was postindustrial grandiosity at its finest. More importantly though was the sight of the hill itself. It seemed like half of Oakland, kids, adults, students, professionals, and construction workers on lunch break alike, had turned out for the afternoon. The way everyone was eating and chatting reminded me so much of a tea party, I had to stop myself from laughing. I realized that I see this all the time here and that is why Pittsburgh is the most overlooked town in America. Everyone is so ready to include you in its growth. Their pride in all of its accomplishments and their shameless way of advertising that fact makes you want to be here and contribute.
Coming out of my reverie, grinning like a fool, I noticed a middle aged man standing next to me, admiring the same view. “You know, this is a great tahn,” he began with force. I knew what was coming and I was finally ready for it, “You’re telling me!” I fired back with pride, tramping back down into the city, “What character!”
Celine Roberts is an assistant editor at The New Yinzer. In her free time, she enjoys being jovially accosted by the people of this fair city, doing yoga, and admiring the fall leaves.
Photograph courtesy Brittany Harrington © 2009, 2010
