Bike to Work--Check!

Spring Fashion Preview

Spring is finally here, and you know what that means--new shoes!

I knew I was going to want a "lighter" shoe for the warmer months, and one I could wear with or without socks or tights. And a sturdy one--I have worn a hole in the sole of the boots I bought when I gave away my car!

These shoes are thick-soled and I can wear them with everything, rain or shine. And they are so comfortable that they are the only shoe I have never had to break in. Nary a blister or sore toe after the first day of wearing. And they are red. Enough said.

911

First responders did not have any easy Easter holiday based on the number of times I had to call them myself.

On the Thursday before Easter I went to the grocery store after work, and took the 86A to Bloomfield to get home. As I walked from Liberty Avenue to Friendship Avenue, towards Friendship Park, I saw two young men--I think they were in high school--chest to chest with one another, ear to ear, almost as if they were embracing. I could tell by their faces, their bare chests, and the gaggle of girls and other boys around them that they were not lovers. Before I knew it, one of them was on the ground, the other was violently kicking his side, and I was yelling across the street to them, " I'm going to call the police!" As if that would stop it, but I wanted to warn them.

By the time I got through to 911, they were chasing one another through the park, girls screaming behind them, and throwing trash cans into the street. A bus had to brake to avoid hitting them. I guess they didn't see the sign posted:


There was nothing passive about it.

On Sunday evening, my girlfriend and I were walking across the Bloomfield Bridge to meet up with an old friend of hers and see her band play in Polish Hill. Walking at dusk along Bigelow Boulevard, we heard some of the fast moving cars blowing their horns. My girlfriend assumed it was someone on a bike. When they didn't pass us, she turned around and that is when we noticed a man walking down the middle of the road. He was middle-aged, very drunk, and very near to meeting his end.

She called over to him and asked me to dial 911. As I am describing the situation to the operator, my girlfriend is trying to help him over the guard rail, and he falls into the street with his head in traffic. He finally makes it to the sidewalk and when we suggest he sit down in a doorway, he falls over into it and stays put. Mostly. He sits up and sways back and forth, looking all the time like he is going to take a runner into the street again.

After 25 minutes of waiting, I called the police again to explain that we were two women standing by the side of a busy road with a severely intoxicated man we didn't know and were afraid to leave him for his and everyone else's safety. In five minutes, and officer showed up looking decidedly less happy to see us than we were to see him. Case closed, except that I was more reticent to walk the 1.4 miles back home in the dark.

Power of Positive Giving

I am going to start keeping money in my pocket. Singles, quarters--whatever I need in change for people who are asking for a little help. One of my co-workers was talking about how she does this, so that she doesn't feel vulnerable about taking out her wallet, but can still help out. It may seem obvious, but this seemed like a revolutionary idea to me.

Walking to work and the grocery store, I meet more people who need fifty cents for the bus, or a couple of dollars to get something to eat. Many more people than when I was driving everywhere. It is not easy to type, but when I am asked, I almost always say "no", even when I have it in my bag. And it's been knawing at me. Since Haiti.

It's not that it didn't bother me before. Like many people, I struggle with guilt and doing the "right" thing. But I always rationalize not giving money to people asking for it on the street, either actively or passively. I would give, or plan to give, to shelters, food banks and other services for people in desperate circumstances--this was giving safely, with no risk for me, and doing more good, I would tell myself. Once on the subway I gave a street musician a dollar and the classmate I was with harangued me for fifteen minutes about feeding myself first--I was struggling to get three full meals a day and stay in school. It was a long time before I gave again.

When the earthquake and disaster happened in Haiti in January, I was disgusted with myself. I "shopped" for the right organization to donate to. I chose one I thought had a good plan for getting aid where it needed to go fast, and I am not sorry. But I'm sorry that it took me so long to think of a dollar here and fifty cents there as direct aid for my neighbors. Especially now, when I feel the most financially secure I have felt since I was ten years old.

Many years ago when I was in a bad place in my life--a really lonely place--I read a thrift store copy of The Power of Positive Thinking. I still have it; it's in really good condition. When I got past some of the specific Christian references, I found it really helpful, even inspiring. In one section, Peale talks about buying a bottle of alcohol for a homeless man on Christmas--because it was what he most wanted and needed at that moment. I have thought about that passage many times. I'm still not really sure what I think about it. Maybe what I think about it, and how I feel about it, are different.

For now I am going with how I feel. And when the two guys sitting on the sidewalk outside of the Giant Eagle, the two really friendly guys, wave at me, I can smile back with a lighter heart. I have to carry around more change now, anyway. My three month bus pass stint is over, and I'll need money to catch the occasional bus. It's walk-to-work season.

Big Thaw

Weeks of ice and inches of snow are now a bad memory. Mostly. Seeing these photographs again is a little chilling. But they tell a story of some of the good that came out of those dark days. The alley in the photo below was dug out entirely by hand(and shovel) by a group of our neighbors .


This one just made me laugh in a bratty, rebellious teenager kind of way. I guess it wouldn't be so funny if something was on fire.


I don't know what kind of tattoo artists they are, but these guys make public art.


The image below brings back some of the horror. It was hard to get around, for everyone. Crossing the street was a game. In the thick of it, a bus driver let her guard down and cried as I was waiting to de-bus. She was anxious about her and her passengers' safety, and she was tired from working overtime and the stress of worrying.



When we began to see slips of pavement below the white stuff, we knew the end was near. And the beginning of some serious ugliness. Piles of gritty snow, dank puddles, the usual gray exteriors of February in Pittsburgh. Oh, and everything that had been trapped beneath the winter wonderland. I waited at this bus shelter on Highland Avenue for a few minutes and couln't finish cataloging all of the trash there before the bus came.


See below for the kind of white on the ground that I can get behind. We have been treated to some unseasonally warm weather over the last week, forcing these lovelies out of hiding. We believe we deserve it.

One More

It starts in September, with caramel pumpkins, and ends in April with caramel eggs. In between there is a continuous flow of caramel santas and hearts. And it is cruel, Russell Stover- it's cruel. Almost half a year of cheap, thrilling temptation.

I commute the three mile stretch to work with some combination of bus and foot travel, depending on my schedule and list of errands. It is not a food desert, with healthy food no where in sight. There are even a couple of natural foods stores and a decent grocery store within a few feet of the street. But there are also no less than four convenience stores, four Family Dollars, and three Golden Arches on my way to work. All of them peddling the most calories for the least cash.

On the day after Valentine's Day, these caramel hearts were four for a dollar at a drug store(And why do they sell cigarettes at drug stores? This makes no sense.) They were right next to the caramel Easter eggs that had already taken their place- two for a dollar.

So while I am walking off these sweet little treats, it is also easier for me to get my hands on them. No parking, no waiting, no hassle. It's on the way. Step right in. Thankfully, just a few more weeks, and then the burden is lifted, until next Halloween season.

White Out

No matter what you call it- snowpolcalypse, snowapalooza, snowmaggedon- it happened. Someone wished really hard in their heart for snow and they got it, 20 inches of it in one night. The governor has declared a state of emergency, and the mayor wants the city to stay home.

On our cul de sac, which never sees a plow or salt truck on a light snow day, most people have still not dug out their cars. There was no point. Almost everything in the city, from churches to libraries, was shut down. Public transportation is limited. Some people still don't even have power or heat.

But as my girlfriend said, the novelty has worn off. Under normal circumstances, we relish a day off, a reason to stay put. But being forced into seclusion by a crusty blanket of snow and a baby-faced mayor? That just seems un-American. Child-like wonder has given way to the reality of getting on with it.

Everyone has a story of how they are getting to work today. Mine's not quite as bad as I imagined, but not as good as I had hoped. Over the weekend, most neighbors have shoveled a path on their pieces of sidewalk, if not down to pavement. I didn't expect buses to be on time- though Penn Avenue is moving, there is still a brown-sugary coating of snow on it. The snow came over the tops of my boots in places. My feet were cold, but I was in good spirits.

Then the 86B passed by our stop as another rider and I stood there with our mouths open in silent protest. We waited 35 minutes for another. As other riders joined us, the sting wore off. On Saturday, one person paid $100 to a man with a truck to drive her from her home in McKeesport to family with heat in the city. I was feeling lucky.

My luck ran out at the Penn Mall Station. The sun was out, but the temperature has dropped since this weekend. Two pairs of wool socks in rubber boots were not enough. Four East Hills buses later, with no sign of any others, I headed for the East Busway. I just missed an EBA. An EBO came ten minutes later. One stop and 4 blocks of walking on unshoveled sidewalks and snow covered roads, and I was at work. More than two hours after I started out.

We are expecting a possible 6 more inches of snow tomorrow. In the face of it, my mind turns to fantasy. I am thinking of being swaddled beneath a ton of furs in a horse- drawn carriage a la Doctor Zhivago or isn't there a scene in The Lion in Winter where Katherine Hepburn arrives at Anjou by boat, effortlessly ferried by a dozen men?

If you know of someone with a horse-drawn carriage or a barge, could you ask them to give me a ring, send me a telegram, send word through their manservant?

Win Some, Lose Some

Congratulations to the corner of Penn and Braddock Avenues in Point Breeze! You now have pedestrian crosswalk signs, which may soon be functional. No more people darting across your intersection as they get off the bus, playing chicken with the drivers making lefts onto Penn Avenue. Let's see if the lights make any difference to the drivers gunning it through red lights, especially eager bus drivers.

And condolances to the corner of Mathilda Street and Penn Avenue, and to the many other corners like it in Friendship and Garfield, who will be losing a mail box. The boxes were scheduled to be removed in early December, but are hanging around reminding us of how little we supposedly use them- that's the reason given on the notice for their removal. The notice instructs users to inquire about the next nearest blue box at the post office on Liberty Avenue in Bloomfield, many blocks away.

Residents of other Pittsburgh neighborhoods have also noted the removal of post boxes on their corners. Earlier last year, reduction of mail services city wide was reported in the Pittsburgh Post Gazette. But there seems to be a history of low blue mailbox numbers in lower income, historically "underserved" areas.

Free Pass

Hello, January Bus Pass. I'll be your date for this month. I've never done this before, so forgive me if I am nervous. Something about paying up front makes it seem naughty. Like I am getting away with something. We met online, but I feel like I have known you longer. I have always been curious. It doesn't matter that some of my fellow riders have one, too. Our relationship feels special.

It is special. I love the freedom from the tyrrany of exact change. And from the numbing job of scraping snow and ice off a car- my second least favorite task next to filling up.

The pass(now $80) is for this frigid month of slippery sidewalks, and maybe the next. Then back to the $50 budget. I swear.