LikeLike

LikeLike

LikeLike

My grandmother is buried in that same cemetery in Sharpsburg

LikeLike

Very well said, Homer. While I did not grow up in Pittsburgh, my grandfather and mother did. Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood, though – that hits close.

LikeLike

LikeLike

It is so inadequate to “like” this comment. (For one thing, it’s pretty hard to find the like button when your eyes are full of tears.) But you are right, Homer. The shooter is not who we are. He does not represent what my city is. And all of us, beginning with me, who took for granted what we have here have been put on notice, a notice that echoes the old phrase “the price of freedom is eternal vigilance.”

Ivan and I talked on the phone last night, and one of the things which had struck both of us is how, for us, Squirrel Hill is a safe place. I wouldn’t pretend to know what it feels like to be black, but as a woman I can tell you that one of the things I love about my neighborhood is that I can walk home alone from a late night rehearsal and not be afraid. How many places (at least in a city of any size) can one say that about anymore?

Pittsburgh is an adopted city for me – we moved here when I was already in my 40s – but it has long been my home. I am so proud of how my fellow Pittsburghers have responded.

LikeLiked by 1 person

It could have happened anywhere. But it happened in the very chapel where – when I reached the age of 13 – I stood at that podium, chanting a portion of the Holy Scriptures in Hebrew, marking my passage into manhood. Some of the dead will be buried in the old cemetery on a hillside in Sharpsburg where my Mom and Dad and my little brother and my grandparents and extended family rest. And that’s where I will end up. When something like this happens, it’s a tragedy for everyone. But when it hits this close to home, it becomes surreal, and everything is in slow motion, in a continuous loop.

And yes, I knew – or knew of – some of those who died.

Yes, it happened in Pittsburgh, but what took place in those awful moments is not who we are.

We are the first responders who risked everything to save lives. Some we wounded saving the lives of others. We are the people of all faiths who cry out and share our pain, the people who reach out to comfort, the people who grieve, the people who become the helpers, because that’s what we’re taught to do. We don’t just look for the helpers. We become the helpers. We are stronger than hate.

This happened at the corner of Wilkins and Shady, and if you head down Shady Avenue to near the bottom of the hill, and look to the left, you’ll see Mike Tomlin’s house. If you had down Wilkins a block or so, you’ll see Beechwood Boulevard, where Fred and Joanne Rogers lived and raised James and John. This happened in Mister Rogers neighborhood. A few blocks away from where Mac Miller had the Best Day Ever. Just down the street from Blue Slide Park. Other places preach diversity. Squirrel Hill lives it every day.

Squirrel Hill is a truly wonderful place. Its soul is Jewish, but, like Mother Pittsburgh, its heart is open to everyone. It is one of America’s great urban neighborhoods, a peaceable place where all are welcome. That won’t change.

A single deranged gunman brought unspeakable horror to our nation, to the city that I love, murdering innocent people gathered to pray in my own house of worship. It could have happened anywhere.

But what happened during Shabbat services at Tree of Life was not who we are. It was the exact opposite of who we are.

We are the Steeler fans and Penguin fans who redrew our team logos to include the Star of David to defiantly tell the haters who we are. And I can’t look at those redesigned logos without feeling the love we all share, and without crying. There are tears in my eyes as I write this.

I have always loved my city and fellow Yinzers, but I’ve never been prouder of the ‘burgh or loved them more than I do right now.

We are Pittsburgh, and we are as strong as steel. We must the world a single message: that we are stronger than hate. Make them hear you.

“It is a tree of life to all who grasp it, and whoever holds on to it is happy; its ways are ways of pleasantness, and all it paths are peace. (Proverbs 3:17-18)

LikeLiked by 2 people