I grew up in Pittsburgh’s Squirrel Hill neighborhood. In fact, when the news broke about last week’s horrific shooting at the Tree of Life Synagogue, television cameras showed that the police perimeter and all the SWAT trucks were stationed right in front of our former house. I could see the little lawn where I chased fireflies, the leafy sycamore trees that shaded the front porch, the stone steps where I sat watching the world go by at the intersection of Northumberland Street and Murray Avenue.
Most of our neighbors were Jewish but I never gave it much thought. I walked to my little elementary school down alleys and through backyards. I took my first swimming lessons in the Irene Kaufman Center’s pool. The corner of Forbes and Murray—heart of the neighborhood— was just a few blocks away. We’d get the newspaper at The Squirrel Hill News, buy petit-fours at the Waldorf Bakery, and go the movies at The Manor Theater. I knew nothing but peace and safety in that neighborhood, but that was then. This is now.
The murders at Tree of Life raise so many terrible questions. Why is there still so much hatred and anti-semitism in America? Why are there so many mass shootings in our society? Why are guns so available to people with a history of violence or mental instability? Where are the leaders who can lead us out of this darkness instead of giving tacit permission to—and in some cases actually encouraging—people bent on doing evil? If you don’t see the connection or believe this is inaccurate, just take a look at the van driven by Cesar Sayok, the demented acolyte that sent ten pipe bombs to people he perceived to be enemies of his hero, Mr. Trmp.
People in Pittsburgh are heartbroken. So were people in Boston, Orlando, Charleston, San Diego, and the list goes on and on. Bill Peduto, Pittsburgh’s popular mayor, says his city—our city—will fight hatred with love and that we will overcome this. I admire the sentiment but it’s quickly becoming a depressingly sad refrain, too often repeated by other people in another city next week and the week thereafter.
If you needed yet another reason to get out and vote on November 6 (or before), the eleven people murdered in Squirrel Hill and the multiple injuries to first responders are staring you in the face. This climate must change and while change will not happen overnight, it must begin now. There is constant talk and text saying that America is broken, that we are a country on the precipice. That is is no longer hyperbolic purple prose. When evil comes into your own backyard, you either stop it there or it consumes you, too.
I still have friends in Pittsburgh. I still know people who live in Squirrel Hill. They are good folk, just like the ones I grew up next to. When I was little, my father and I would walk our dog in the evening. We’d head up Northumberland Street, past the firehouse, stopping at Mr. Cargo’s drug store where he’d buy me a cherry Coke or a scoop of raspberry sherbet with peanuts on top. The synagogue was across the street.
But that was then. This is now.
I’ll be right back.
Jamie Kirkpatrick is a writer and photographer with homes in Chestertown and Bethesda. His work has appeared in the Washington Post, the Baltimore Sun, the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette, the Philadelphia Inquirer, the Washington College Alumni Magazine, and American Cowboy magazine. “A Place to Stand,” a book of photographs and essays about Landon School, was published by the Chester River Press in 2015. A collection of his essays titled “Musing Right Along” was published in May 2017; a second volume of Musings entitled “I’ll Be Right Back” will be released in June 2018. Jamie’s website is www.musingjamie.com
Gay Wyne says
Thank you, Jamie. We lived in Pittsburgh for thirty two years before moving to Easton. It is such a special place filled with wonderful people. Squirrel Hill is an exceptional neighborhood as are all of the wonderfully ethnic neighborhoods in Pittsburgh. From Polish Hill to Bloomfield to Shady Side to the South Side and on and on. This tragedy should happen in no place but I have no doubt that Pittsburgh will weather this and stay together despite the hate that caused this loss. Stay strong, I know you will.
Howard Freedlander says
You rightly portray Squirel Hill as a warm, welcoming place. Your roots in this Pittsburgh, PA community bespeak an upbringing that valued tolerance and open-mindedness. Yes, Jamie, you lived in a special community; irrational bias and hatred were anathema to its varied residents. It will remain strong and resolute amid senseless, tragic violence. And I too lived on Northumberland Street, as a toddler.
Jamie Kirkpatrick says
Howard:
I’m sorry it took this event to put former neighbors in touch, but then, that’s Pittsburgh.
Jamie Kirkpatrick says
Howard:
What I should have said: “I’m sorry it took this event to recognize a former neighbor…”
Jennifer Martella says
Jamie,
Thank you for your eloquent writing about a neighborhood I loved for the 2-1/2 years I lived in Pittsburgh. I am an architect and worked for Urban Design Associates. My neighborhood of Point Breeze lacked any retail. Every Saturday I would walk to Squirrel Hill to savor the vitality and diversity of this very special place. I went to Barnes & Noble, went to a matinee and had lunch at one of the many restaurants. Many of my UDA colleagues were congregants at Tree of Life Synagogue and I held my breath as I read through the list of names who lost their lives in that undpeakable carnage. Then I grieved that two families had to cope with losing two members of their families and I cried for them and for our country.
I left Pittsburgh in 2004 but I have very happy memories of my time there. What is unfathomable is how we can cope with now but somehow we must.