Pamsburgh!!!

A transplant takes root.

Pittsbow! Taken from my deck

Places I have lived long enough to have a mailing address: Carle Place, New York East Lansing Michigan Hanover, New Hampshire Jersey City, New Jersey Chicago, Illinois Ithaca, New York Dijon, France State College, Pennsylvania Inlet, New York New York, New York Medellin, Colombia Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

It’s about average for an American, who, Wikipedia tells me, moves 11.7 times in their lives, as some of these addresses are places we are fortunate to own concurrently. One of these moves, the one from Ithaca to State College, was due to a new job for David, and it is family legend how reluctant I was to relocate. My sister, just yesterday, was still hacking my chops for asking her if it was grounds for divorce, which she took to be, a spectacularly dumb question and told me so at the time. I have been unable to live it down, especially since the move led to many good outcomes. One of the outcomes was to regain control of my situation by declaring that I was NOT moving, I was merely expanding my space and going to a different part of it, sort of a queen’s progress. I defined this space as my selfosphere and dubbed it — The Pamelapolis.

It led me to discover that I could lay claim to all sorts of metaphorical territory by naming it after myself- and I have a most versatile moniker. Hence, The Pamiverse, Monkistan, Pamsylvania. Recent events have occurred to warrant the birth of a new territory: Pamsburgh.

I am under no illusion, in the real world, where I can make my way when pressed, I am and will ever be a native of Long Island. I haven’t lived there since I left home at age 18, but no matter. It’s the mother ship, and that’s that. And here in Pittsburgh, it is immediately obvious that I am not local. I am not ostracized. Indeed, I’m welcome. Pittsburgh is friendly and open, justly proud of its past, enjoying its present, and looking forward to its future. When our daughter moved here, she immediately recognized it as a terrific retirement option for us- all the amenities of a world-class city (I’m looking 👀 at you PSO), storied sports franchises, affordable housing and key for old people, stellar medical care. So, in 2019, upon our retirement, we moved here. 412, the Steel City, the Burgh. We found a great home with a killer view, a five-minute drive from my daughter (and KEY, requires no crossing of bridges to get there) within walking distance to both the Cultural District and the stadiums. Yep, I’m a fan, a transplant for sure, but a fan.

And as the saying goes, two points make a straight line, and two things happened recently that made me feel like the city has, after a probation period, decided that I’m ok

First- One weekend in late summer, we took our grandchildren, Sam and Mae to eat at Market Square (dahn tahn)before heading to a water lantern festival in Allegheny Commons Park (Northside). As I mentioned, we were on foot, so getting to the festival meant walking over one of the sister bridges. We decided our best route was to take the Roberto Clemente Bridge, which passes right by PNC Park. The Pirates were home- we could see and hear the crowds. As we reached the midpoint, a Bucco hit a home run, and celebratory fireworks zoomed skyward. Amidst the cheers and the explosions, a freight train whistled as it traveled through the river valley. I stood stock still, gazing at the boats moored in the Allegheny, the string of yellow bridges and the cluster of skyscrapers against a blue sky, and the city spoke to me- Hey Yinz!

Second- It’s the run-up to a very contested election, and Allegheny County is in the eye of the political storm. I have been out canvassing, and my partners on this particular day were two women who have lived in the city for most of their lives. As we finished up our list, they took me to Pages Ice Cream, a landmark establishment that everybody knows about except me. But now I do, too. They close soon for the season so I must hurry back if I want another cone before next spring.

I will never be a Yinzer, (a local) that isn’t what I’m talking about. But Pittsburgh has become a major region of the Pamelapolis designated Pamsburgh on the maps that will be found by the alien archeologists who will, in the millennia to come, study our species through our digital remains, and the traces left by our actual thoughts (you didn’t know they could do that??! Well maybe that’s just something I made up, but maybe not…) In any case, jeet jet? We can go to the Gint Iggle and fill up our buggy with jumbo.