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INSIDE:
PIT TSBURGH NATIVE JESSE ANDREWS WRITES PIXAR'S 'LUCA'
VOL. 4 ISSUE 8
March 10, 2021 - March 16, 2021
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COVID STORIES IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR SINCE THE STATE AND THE COUNTRY WENT INTO LOCKDOWN BECAUSE OF CORONAVIRUS. IN A YEAR UNLIKE ANY OTHER, WE ALL HAVE STORIES. PAGE 6
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Climate Crisis and Corrupt Politics By: Larry J. Schweiger Free Shipping Paperback $29.95 or purchase an eBook for $19.00 (Read the first 25 pages for free)
There is only one earth and our world is undergoing dramatic changes brought on by the climate crisis and other human-induced ecological disruptions. The world's top scientists studying these threats and the forces behind them have been warning us for decades to end the use of fossil fuels or face catastrophic consequences. Their long-ignored warnings have become more dire. Larry Schweiger has long been on the front line of efforts to enact rational clean energy and climate policies and has witnessed efforts to undermine our democratic system that has been rigged leaving America hoodwinked and held hostage to dirty fuels. Climate Crisis and Corrupt Politics pulls back the curtain on the central role of big oil, coal, and gas interests in American politics through the flow of money to fabricated entities for independent SuperPAC expenditures for mass deception through distorted advertising. Larry wrote this urgent message aimed at parents, grandparents and young adults who care about their children forced to live on the ragged edge of an unprecedented climate crisis. This book is especially for leaders who understand that we must act now with a "Green New Deal" scale response. Together, we must confront and overcome the many toxic money influences, reverse a failing democracy and retake the reins of government to enact policies that secure our shared future and the future of life on earth.
PITTSBURGH CURRENT | MARCH 10, 2020 | 3
STAFF Publisher/Editor: Charlie Deitch Charlie@pittsburghcurrent.com Advisory Board Chairman: Robert Malkin Robert@pittsburghcurrent.com
contents
Vol. IV Iss. 8 March 10, 2020
EDITORIAL
Managing Editor At Large: Brittany Hailer Brittany@pittsburghcurrent.com Music Writer: Margaret Welsh Margaret@pittsburghcurrent.com Visuals Editor: Jake Mysliwczyk Jake@pittsburghcurrent.com
News 6 | Covid Stories 10 | Jumpin' Johnny Opinion 14 | Larry Schweiger
Sr. Contributing Writer: Jody DiPerna Jody@pittsburghcurrent.com
Arts 16 | Jesse Andrews/Luca 18 | Art All Night 19 | Gaadge
Education Writer: Mary Niederberger Mary@pittsburghcurrent.com
EXTRA
Social Justice Columnist: Jessica Semler jessica@pittsburghcurrent.com
20 | Matthew Wallenstein 222 | Parting Shot
Environmental Columnist: Larry Schweiger info@pittsburghcurrent.com Contributing Writers: Atiya Irvin Mitchell, Dan Savage, Larry Schweiger, Matthew Wallenstein, Caitlyn Hunter, Nick Eustis, info@pittsburghcurrent.com
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Senior Account Executive: Andrea James andrea@pittsburghcurrent.com Charlie Deitch charlie@pittsburghcurrent.com
The Fine Print The contents of the Pittsburgh Current are © 2021 by Pittsburgh Current, LLC. All Rights Reserved. No portion of this publication shall be duplicated or reprinted without the express-written consent of Pittsburgh Current LLC. One copy per person. The Pittsburgh Current is published twice monthly beginning August 2018. The opinions contained in columns and letters to the editors represent the views of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of Pittsburgh Current ownership, management and staff. The Pittsburgh Current is an independently owned and operated print and online media company produced in the heart of Pittsburgh’s Beechview neighborhood, 1665 Broadway Ave., Pittsburgh, PA., 15216. 412-204-7248. Email us or don’t: info@pittsburghcurrent.com.
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CORO N AV I R U S C ASES A R E AT AN ALL-TIM E H I G H S O R EMEM BE R . . . . .
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PANDEM IT'S BEEN ONE YEAR SINCE THE STATE AND THE COUNTRY WENT INTO LOCKDOWN BECAUSE OF COVID-19. IN A YEAR UNLIKE ANY OTHER, WE ALL HAVE STORIES. BY CHARLIE DEITCH - PITTSBURGH CURRENT EDITOR
CHARLIE@PITTSBURGHCURRENT.COM
M
y Uncle Russ had a bit of a shopping problem. For the last 10 years of his life, decades of hard work in maintenance at the York County Prison and injuries sustained over the years, meant a lot of time sitting in his favorite chair watching QVC and the Home Shopping Network. The pile of treasure he amassed filled his garage. He also loved to share the stuff with me when my mom and I would visit. Thanks to Uncle Russ I have become the proud owner of a “professional” hot dog roller, a turkey deep fryer, a very early version of the Instant Pot, a Ron Popeil food dehydrator, a cast iron dutch oven, countless pairs of blue blockers and other little things. My favorite, though, by far were the Hess collectible vehicles that he’d been gathering for years. Among other ventures, Hess Petroleum operated gas stations up and down the East Coast. Every year, they would release a toy truck, which later morphed into cars, planes and helicopters. My uncle loved these
trucks and he’d give me one or two when I’d come to visit. They’re among my favorite things in the world. On Jan. 18, My Uncle Russ died. It wasn’t much of a surprise. He’d been sick for a while and dementia had really begun to take over. Because of the explosion in COVID-19 cases and being at a high-risk for
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the virus, I couldn’t go to the funeral. I’m not the only one. A lot of people lost their lives during and because of the coronavirus. The Pittsburgh Current’s Brittany Hailer wrote about it last year. Every portion of our lives were interrupted in the past year, including how we
grieve. We all have stories like this. The pandemic resulted in many different things for many different people. To mark the one year anniversary of the day we locked down, here are a few more of those stories told by the people who lived through them
MIC STORIES ALONA WILLIAMS, 2020 GRADUATE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF PITTSBURGH Graduating during a pandemic was a once-in-a-lifetime experience that I could have never guessed would be my reality. After four years, (and a gap year) I was finally at the finish line. But about a month shy of finals, campuses closed and graduation turned into a slideshow. My family did not gather. I had no time to really revel in my accomplishment. I even endured a little of what thousands of college students are enduring right now--online university. The future is already uncertain, and we are taught that getting a higher education will steady that vision. We all know this isn’t the reality for many people. The pandemic has made life altogether uncertain, much less the prospects of starting a “career.” With a new year, and new president in our midst, the future of the college to career pipeline is dwindling away. One of Biden’s campaign promises was to forgive student loan debt up to $50,000. This has now become $10,000. The future of college institutions and the job market itself is transforming rapidly. We now call minimum wage workers “essential”, affirming what many of us have already known to be true. When things hit the fan, we need food, we need education, we need housing for everyone, and a liveable wage to sustain all of these things. Covid has exacerbated our already challenging job market, and has rebranded the same people who we refuse to pay $15 dollars an hour, as “heroes”.
ing-away. Graduates are forced to decide between paying bills, paying debt, and putting enough effort into finding a job for their respective profession. Right now things are competitive; the gaps are bigger. The internet seems to be the only tool that aids in helping recent undergrads find opportunities. If you don’t have a network, then you are in search of where you fit, and who you are as a professional. The internet not only allows us to curate our professional community,and network, but it also allows for mutual aid. This is important because it is becoming clearer and clearer that the government is only willing to do but so much. The goal is to keep everyone working and motivated to work. Although the institutions are holding onto the old ways of professionalism, and general societal norms; things are changing rapidly. As recent undergraduates, we have less power, and more power in different ways. We must continue to balance 20 things on 2 arms, survive in a capitalist world, and yet we But if they are essential and are risking their lives to barely pay their bills, then what exactly does that say about how we are punished for doing the thing that was supposed to protect us value the people we need the most? from instability. But we also Right now, everyone is thinking very hard about what is are moving into a new way of needed and what can be cut loose. We’ve learned that it is almost always the “who” and seldomly the “what.” If you’re living, where the possibilities are made up as we go. Seemingqualified for a job that’s great, but not necessarily enough. Oftentimes, it's been proven that having a strong professional ly having so many options and none at all can seem unfair, but network can be more beneficial than a 4-year degree.Relathere’s a wild card level of powtionships are at the forefront of everything right now. Our individualist society is being shown how unsustainable it is, er in that. To all marginalized students and recent graduates of mentally, politically, environmentally, and impacts our reall levels, these institutions were sources the most. never made for our stability. So So what does that mean for poor people? Poor college it’s best we make our own rules, students, and alumni? It means that a lot of people with student loan debt being and take it one day at a time. pushed into a workforce that’s fragile structure is finally givPITTSBURGH CURRENT | MARCH 10, 2020 | 7
PANDEMIC ST
I
MAKINLEY MAGILL, SENIOR, LINCOLN HIGH SCHOOL, ELLWOOD CITY
f there are two things that most people learn about me soon after meeting me is that I’m a very social person. I’m a senior in high school. I love to play softball, I love hanging out with my friends, my family and doing normal high school things like going to dances, games, and other events. To put it simply, I’m an extrovert and I’m always out and about doing something. So, you can only imagine what a global pandemic like coronavirus has been like for me. As COVID-19 rushed through the country, panic set in and chaos began. I didn’t know it at the time, but last March, Friday the 13th, was the last in-class day of my junior year. Then in March I received the news that our softball season, like other spring sports, was cancelled. Things seemed to get someone normal during the summer. Rules were relaxed and I even got to play softball with my travel team. We even had a makeshift prom in August thanks to a local restaurant owner and his outdoor dining space. I thought that things were getting somewhat back to normal, turns out it was the calm before the storm. The number of COVID-19 cases exploded and our lives would once again be interrupted. My school just fully reopened in the past few weeks, almost an exact year after it closed. My senior year has been just as disrupted as my junior year. We will have a softball season and that’s great, but a lot of other things -- prom, graduation -- we still don’t know what those things will look like. I will graduate later this year but overall it does seem like what is supposed to be one of your most memorable years of high school is ruined. I know there will be those who say, “it’s just high school.” But it’s important to me and a lot of other students and it hurts worse than you might think it does. When we learn about historical events in school, a lot of teachers say they were lucky to have lived during that time. But if it’s one thing the coronavirus pandemic has taught me it’s that living through history is not as much fun as they say it is. 8 | MARCH 10, 2020 | PITTSBURGH CURRENT
TORIES
I
SHANE MCLAUGHLIN, GUITARIST/VOCALIST, BUFFALO ROSE
believe most creatives always think in the back of their mind, “if only I had some more time, uninterrupted and alone, I would spend it working on my creative practice.” None of us could have foreseen the abundance of time we would have in the last year, nor what it would cost. Every musician lost their night job; many lost their day job too. It was like someone took away your dopamine, your ability to exercise, your cathartic release. Playing a live show, or seeing one, is a massive exchange of energy. It puts people at the top of their dynamic range, shouting into microphones and blasting instruments through massive sound systems, and puts people at the top of their emotional range too, being in a crowd of hundreds or thousands or even ten people is magic, lost in the present and part of something bigger than yourself. Many of us have switched gears out of necessity. Some began teaching online, some dove into creating, some moved on to other fields. And while the world has been changed forever by this -- livestreams aren’t going away to say the least -- I think a great many of us are waiting for that moment where it feels safe to be back out in the sun, swaying to the sweet sounds of something among a socially distanced crowd. We live in a mostly livestreamed world now. Thank the bat that this whole thing for not starting it 20 years
It is strange now to still be here a year later. It seems like so many artists are now releasing their “quarantine records.” Many of these records are being released by the pros, people who have already “made it” playing music and can create full time. I have been pretty astounded at the resiliency of the Pittsburgh musical community time after time. Incredible music is always coming out of this city. Whether it is the creation of new records soon to be shared, or a simple offering of hope into a camera from a mostly empty room, the essentiality of music and art has shone through, despite how the government may classify us. Many a home away from home has also been lost in the past year. Venues including Hambones, The Park House, The Rex, and thousands more across the nation. We all grieve for those places, and honor them forever in our memories for the beautiful moments they have given us in our lives, just as we must Members of Bufffalo Rose including Jason Rafalak, Shane McLaughlin, Lucy do for all of those who were Clabby and Bryce Rabideau. taken from this world too soon ago, before the ubiquity of smartphones and video conferenc- by COVID-19. ing apps (Zoom, I both hate and love you). There are a few There has been a lot of grief in-person gigs still happening, or people to playing to empty within the musical communivenues. But without a doubt, it all still feels like it is better ty, venues. Careers, creative than nothing. The digital community of musicians and listen- relationships have all been put ers supporting each other is is still here. It sort of feels like we on hold. had the rug pulled out from under us, and we’re going to be But there is still hope. stitching it back together for the next five years or so, figuring Hope for a resurgence, and a out how to find a new normal. But despite the pain and loss of strength drawn from the resilso many lives and memories, we still hold on to the core ele- iency of the power of the arts. ments of what make us human, the community, the creativity, It's that feeling that wells up and the resilience of the human spirit. We still sing, with joy inside each of us and longs to and with sorrow. It is all we can do. exist in the world again. PITTSBURGH CURRENT | MARCH 10, 2020 | 9
PANDEMIC DEVIN BROWNE, RUSSIAN/FRENCH TEACHER, BRASHEAR HIGH SCHOOL I’m a bit of a (metaphoric) cheerleader for my school, so let me give you some context. I teach Russian (and sometimes French) at Brashear High School, one of Pittsburgh Public’s largest and most diverse schools. We are rich with diversity in terms of race and ethnicity, religion, and language of origin. Additionally, we have a visible and active population that identifies as LGBTQ (plus many visible allies), many of whom are members of the school’s Gender & Sexuality Alliance (GSA). In addition to teaching Russian, I’m also the advisor for the GSA. From what I read about and hear from other teachers, what’s happening at Brashear reflects the situation in diverse urban schools across the country. Students not showing up. Students failing. Students struggling with mental health issues. And students who are Black or Brown, students who are queer, students who are English language learners — these students are especially vulnerable. They are more likely to be affected by joblessness, housing insecurity, and increased exposure to Covid. Our kids at Brashear are facing some of the toughest circumstances in the country right now. So when someone asks me how teaching during the
pandemic is going, I’m honest: It’s hard. It’s really, really hard. Trying to engage with students who are actually there — but almost always with their cameras off — is challenging. I can’t tell if they get what I’m saying to them in Russian, I can’t tell if they understand the assignment, and I can’t tell if they are laughing at my corny jokes. Trying to engage with students who have cameras off and don’t answer right away — or at all — can be downright demoralizing. In the back of my mind, I vacillate between frustration and sympathy. I know that many of my students have more pressing issues than their Russian class. Some of my Uzbek students are working to help support their families, as many of their parents have lost jobs or have seen their work hours greatly diminished. Some of my LGBTQ students find themselves in situations where they are closeted 24 hours a day, with no freedom to be their authentic selves anywhere right now. I worry about anxiety and depression becoming the norm for these kids, and worry that we’re not raising children in our society to be strong enough to persevere through online school during an unprecedented global crisis. All that said, it’s spring at last, vaccines are here or around the corner, and there have been some moments that uplifted my spirts when I really needed it. Six or seven students who were failing — I was convinced these kids would be held back an academic year — have pulled it together and are working hard to re-engage and catch up (knocking on wood as I type this; please keep it up!!). Three parents this year went out of their way to contact me and tell me that their kid loves my class (and that’s even after they learned a new alphabet). And more importantly, historically rigid institutions have bent and stretched to try to meet the needs of our neediest kids.
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Brashear’s leadership team put several initiatives in place to support students (office hours on Wednesdays; shout-outs for hard work; calling hundreds of homes weekly, and trying to ensure the call is made by people who speak the same language as the family). Teachers call, email, message at all hours of the day, accepting late work, resetting that test so a student can retake it, doing that speaking test one-on-one over a Teams call. Persad and Proud Haven and Dreams of Hope, important institutions in the Pittsburgh LGBTQ community, have reached out and shown up to support struggling queer students. And Pitt’s Center for Russian, East European & Eurasian Studies bought and delivered supplies for my Russian students who were interested in learning about about traditional folk art and cooking. We’ve painted matryoshkas and wooden spoons, we’ve cooked Uzbek plov, all together over Zoom. Our common struggles keep bringing us together. Teachers are working hard to support our students. And administrators and local organizations are working to support us. And thank goodness. How else could I have gotten through this year?
C STORIES REED CONNOLLY, FREELANCE MUSICIAN/STEEL GUITARIST
There’s a quote by Epicetus that I think about often: “It’s impossible to learn what you already think you know.” This past year, I lost what I knew about being a musician. From that experience, I learned what I thought I knew, and found something I didn’t know I had. Pre-lockdown, the daily grind of playing a concert didn’t give me pause for reflection. I envisioned it more as a checklist, to an end. Advertise the show weekly, and every other day week of; make sure there’s air in the tires; load-in at 5, sound check at 6; stay hydrated, but don’t break the seal. Once these boxes were crossed off, I could enjoy the experience—locking in with the band, responding to the crowd’s energy, pulling something out of the air. Those moments, those connections created, I relished. And then the moment was over, and the checklist resumed—pay the bar tab, pack up, drop off everyone; get some rest, think about when to start advertising the next show. The moment of contentment was always surrounded by the perfunctory aspects of being a musician. The pandemic took away more than just live music, it stripped us of shared experience. Out of safety and concern, it became our duty to respect isolation. The alternative was grim. At first, the new situation created replacements for what we were missing: virtual concerts, remote collaboration, sharing old memories. The old world was “Pre-COVID,” drawing a clear line in time, with our mantra being to get back to Normal. The funny thing about Normal,
REED CONNOLLY
the capital-N version that we think rules over life, is how malleable the concept is. From person to person, day to day, there is no one Normal. As I was sitting at home, contemplating loss and an uncertain future, I was greatly influenced by Arthur C. Brooks, a social science professor at Harvard, who writes a column for The Atlantic called “The Art of Happiness.” As Brooks describes the ideal of capital-N Normal: “Life changes are painful, but inevitable. And as hard as they may be, we only make things harder—and risk squandering the benefits and lessons they can bring—when we work against them instead of with them.” Given this time and space for pause and reflection, I started to lean into my greatest, driving fear: failing. Failure, to me, was an unknown force that I avoided at all cost. The idea of it, the concept of wearing that banner, fed my self-doubt, my lack of confidence, and my never-ending excuses to myself. As I peeled back the walls I had built for myself, I realized that capital-F Failure was no different than capital-N Normal. As Brooks had described, I had spent entirely too much time and energy working against the inevitability to even realize the potential of growth, learning, and understanding that could be gained. That was the moment that I allowed Normal to be normal, and Failure to be failure. A subtle change in learning what I thought I knew. With my walls down, I gave myself permission to try and explore parts of myself I hadn’t externalized before. I began learning music software called Max/MSP that I had long been interested in, but never
had the time or confidence to explore. Suddenly, during lockdown, I had both. By exploring this new world, and building a personal interface to create music, I was able to make something that was uniquely mine. Against a litany of fear and self-doubt, I released it under my name—something I never could have conceived of in the “Pre-COVID” world. I also explored being a band leader, writing Christmas music that explored my personal fascination and appreciation of Christmas music, in of itself. In a complete reversal of Normal, the band I formed had no expectation to ever play live—they have never even been in a room together. My “PreCOVID” checklist surrounding the moment of musical bliss had no corollary to this experience. Everything about writing, recording, and collaborating with my friends was enjoyable—I could see now that my happiness didn’t come from an end, but from the work itself. As the world begins to safely open, and “Post-COVID” grows from a concept to a reality, I will still carry these new lessons with me. I am allowing myself to fail— it’s an opportunity to grow, not to fear. I am not pushing against normal, I am creating my normal—the work makes me content, not the result. I still reflect on Epicetus’ quote often because I know the work isn’t finished—there are many things I think I know, and I’ve yet to learn. I welcome all of it. --Read Connolly is a freelance musician and steel guitarist. His work can be found at readconnolly. com
PITTSBURGH CURRENT | MARCH 10, 2020 | 11
PANDEMIC ST
Y
LISSA BRENNAN, HOSPITALITY INDUSTRY
ou just wait because Trump is going to set you free, you bitch!” These were the last words screamed by a grown man who didn’t mind going out in public with a polo shirt mimicking the American flag, yet had a toddler-style meltdown when asked to cover the bottom part of his face for less than a minute. This man, I ejected from an establishment in which I work a few months ago almost immediately upon his entrance, yelled because he was offended to his core that I asked his group to mask up until seated. “Yeah, I’m not doing that, honey,” he tells me, swaggering with the privilege that wealth, whiteness, and multiple Coors Lights on one’s boat can buy. Just get us a table.” I replied, “I can’t get you a table until you put your mask on. It’s Pennsylvania regulations, and my boss who watches on camera is extremely strict about it.” You have to make sure it’s clear that what you’re enforcing wasn’t dreamed up en route to work just to ensure that you’ll have a horrible shift and make as little money as possible. You want guests to know
there are multiple levels of decision-making, and you are at the bottom. You lie about your boss’ policing to take some of the responsibility of your shoulders, because your only responsibility here is to make sure the rules are observed and to receive the anger of those who don’t want to do it. “I’m not putting on a mask. Give us a table and get me a beer,” he barked. Other guests notice, as they always do, but let me as the only front-of-house employee handle it myself, as they always do. His friends
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aren’t encouraging him, but they’re sure as hell not stopping him either. “Get out of this restaurant, and don’t come back,” I said. He doesn’t understand. He’s never been asked to leave anywhere before. “All of you have to leave right now, or I’m calling the cops.” Then the tantrum begins. I’m screamed at, called names, threatened; he’s erupting like a volcano of entitlement. I calmly again offer to call the police. When I move for the phone, he finally starts to exit, but
knocks over every unoccupied stool he passes on his way out. I have worked at every type of establishment imaginable, from the diviest of dive bars to the finest of dining and every level of service and clientele in between. At a family friendly neighborhood bar and grill I kicked out more people in the span of a few months than I have in my entire 15 years in the industry. At the beginning, I met guests’ initial belligerence and disrespect with accommodation, as we’re taught --
TORIES we have to be service-oriented, the customer is always right. After the first dozen or so incidents of escalation, I realized that no one who walked in looking for a fight with a tip-based employee struggling to stay alive was going to suddenly become reasonable. No one was going to have a come-to-Jesus moment illuminating that maybe, just maybe, the person to take out all of their frustrations over the pandemic, economy, Democrats, women, BLM (I mention all of these things because each and every one of them have come up), everything wrong in the world, is not their server, who is just trying to do their goddamned job and go home. If it was that much of a problem to put on a mask for a walk to a table, I don’t have a place for them at it. When restaurants first reopened, when you would expect people to return to them with gratitude and appreciation, I either threw someone out or had someone walk out every shift. Sometimes with a minimum of dramatics -- always making sure to fire a parting shot on their way out the door, but leaving quick-
Lissa Brennan
ly. Sometimes they went ballistic on me. I have been yelled at, had menus and napkins thrown at me, been threatened with violence both sexual and non-, had my physical space invaded. Always by men, always over 30, always white. Imagine anticipating this every day you went to work. Imaginine won-
dering if this was the day that someone was going to really hurt you. And imagine it’s coming from those you depend on to pay you. You hear a lot, when venting on the treatment of those in your profession by those outside of it, “just do something else!” As if what you do isn’t valid enough of a career
to hold on to. As if a bad situation is better solved by the victim having to change their whole life, than by requiring that the aggressor treat human beings like human beings. Things have eased up in the last couple of months. I’m not sure why. It might be because changes in administration have subdued those who thought potentially killing others by the spread of sickness was a risk worth taking. But it could also be because in the winter months our clientele tends to be more neighborhood-based. Either way, In the long run, I think this can have a positive outcome of rethinking just what is within the parameters of acceptable behavior, just how much workers are supposed to bear. We retrained ourselves to understand that we don’t have to put up with abuse centered on pandemic regulations. Hopefully this will result in a sea change of understanding that we don’t have to put up with abuse at all.
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OPINION
THE SENATE MUST FIND A WAY TO ENACT THE JOHN R. LEWIS VOTING RIGHTS ADVANCEMENT ACT BY LARRY SCHWEIGER - PITTSBURGH CURRENT COLUMNIST
INFO@PITTSBURGHCURRENT.COM
“If you see something that is not right, not fair, not just, you have a moral obligation to do something about it.” –Congressman John Lewis The John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act HR#1 honors the late Congressman who risked his life championing the right to vote. On March 7th, 1965, John Lewis and other civil rights leaders led a march from Selma to Montgomery to demonstrate voting rights. This past Sunday is known as "Bloody Sunday" marking fifty-six years since Lewis and other peaceful marchers were attacked and beaten by Alabama state troopers on the Edmund Pettus Bridge (named for a Grand Dragon of the Ku Klux Klan). This anniversary is a reminder of the growing injustices in election laws. As Lewis said, we "have a moral obligation to do something about it.” On June 25th, 2013, in an outrageous decision, the United States Supreme Court concluded that racism is no longer a political factor in America. Ruling in a partisan 5-to-4 vote in Shelby County v. Holder, they killed a vital provision of the Voting Rights Act of 1965. This ruling started with a false assumption that forty years have erased discriminatory Jim Crow election practices. The High Court ruled Section 4(b) unconstitutional and no longer needed. This provision
Late-Congressman John Lewis spelled out the formula identifying the jurisdictions subjected to preclearances based on their histories of discrimination. This decision nullified Section 5, requiring certain states and local governments with long histories of voter discrimination to obtain federal preclearance before implementing changes to their voting laws or practices. With many voting rights abuses today, there can be little doubt that the majority of the Court profoundly erred in their assumption that ballot-box rac-
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ism has ended. The majority is either dangerously cloistered or deliberately bent on undercutting minority voters when they eliminate voter rights with flawed decisions. Last week, the Court heard arguments in the most important voting rights case in eight years over challenges to a restrictive Arizona election law that adversely impacts Native Americans living on reservations and other minorities. With the addition of three Trumpsters, the Supreme Court has little regard
for minority rights and appears poised to uphold election restrictions. A bad decision will make it much harder to challenge any other state’s limits to ballot access and destroy the crucial remaining provisions of the Voting Rights Act. Michael A. Carvin, the RNC attorney, admitted their motive before the Court, “Because it puts us at a competitive disadvantage relative to Democrats. Politics is a zero-sum game, and every extra vote they get through unlawful interpretations of Section 2 hurts us.” The Poor People’s Campaign warned that there are fewer voting rights today than before the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act were passed. Since 2010, twenty-three states have enacted racist-driven voter suppression laws, including gerrymandering, reduced early voting days and fewer hours, purging voter rolls, closing targeted voting locations, and more restrictive voter ID laws making it harder to register. Following Shelby County v. Holder, fourteen states added voting restrictions before the 2016 election. There were 868 fewer polling places disproportionately targeting Black people in at least 17 states. We are living in dangerous times for democracy as Republicans in bad faith abandon core voter rights that should not be normalized or ignored. We are witnessing a reawakening of
OPINION Jim Crow politics. Several states have sweeping voter suppression laws that disproportionately prevent minorities, the elderly, and youth from voting. Now, polling places targeted for closure across the country were in predominantly African-American counties. Voter suppression in various forms has also targeted American Indian and Alaskan Native voters. Racism is alive and well and spreading north and west. Politicians hide their motivations as they falsely claim they are securing elections and stopping election fraud. Laws purported to stop mythical voter fraud make it harder for minorities they consider undesirable to vote. Racism is hard to ignore. Research by Stephen Pettigrew at the University of Pennsylvania found minority voters are six times as likely as whites to wait longer than an hour to vote. In many states, this disparity is intentional. States controlled by Republicans enact unnecessarily strict voter ID laws and force polling place closures to make voting harder, targeting minority communities that tend to vote Democrat. Mr. Pettigrew's research also suggests that this discourages voters. For each hour would-be voters wait, their probability of voting in the next election drops by one percent. More troubling, an election backlash propagated by Trump’s big lie and bogus election fraud claims that were thrown out of courts all over the country yet Republican lawmakers promoted Trump’s baseless and racist allegations of voter fraud and election irregularities. Trump’s claims were disputed by the
agencies that oversee U.S. elections calling the 2020 election “the most secure in American history.” In a joint statement on November 12th, election officials stated: “There is no evidence that any voting system deleted or lost votes, changed votes, or was in any way compromised.” Republican state lawmakers, ignoring these findings, are pushing more voter suppression. As of February 19th, 2021, The Brennan Center report identified 253 bills restricting voting access in 43 states. Swing states are a big target as Arizona has nineteen restrictive bills. Pennsylvania is second with fourteen restrictive voting proposals, followed by Georgia with eleven pending bills. During the campaign, Trump made it clear he was targeting minority voters with his attack on Philadelphia. During the debate, he claimed without a shred of evidence that that “bad things happen in Philadelphia, Bad things.” Trump aimed at Philadelphia knowing he was behind in Pennsylvania polls. He was lying about poll watchers having problems when there were no voting polling locations open in Philadelphia at the time. During that debate, Trump told the Proud Boys to “stand back and stand by” in a signal made clear on January 6th. It turned out that Trump did better in Philadelphia in 2020. Trump only won two Philadelphia wards in 2016. In 2020, his vote total grew and he added a third ward. Trump lost several largely white suburban counties in Pennsylvania. Yet, after the election, Trump and many
Republicans peddled lies about Pennsylvania election fraud. The right to vote is foundational to a just democracy. The John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act, would restore justice to an increasingly flawed electoral system by: Restoring the full protections of the original Voting Rights Act of 1965. A bipartisan Congress reauthorized the law in 2006. Despite broad support in 2006, the Supreme Court gutted the law in 2013. The bill provides the provisions needed to protect all Americans’ right to vote; creating “a new coverage formula that applies to all states and hinges on a finding of repeated voting rights violations in the preceding 25 years as Jim Crow is moving across the country; Establishing a process for reviewing voting changes in jurisdictions focused on measures that have historically discriminated; Establishing a limited process for reviewing voter ID, the reduction of multilingual voting materials and other actions with the most significant discriminatory impact; Allowing federal courts to order states or jurisdictions to address violations where the effect of the voting measure leads to racial discrimination denying citizens their right to vote; Increasing transparency by requiring public notice for voting changes; Granting the Attorney General the authority to request federal observers be present where there is a severe threat of racial discrimination in voting; Revising preliminary injunc-
tion standards for voting rights actions where there is a need for immediate preliminary relief; Increasing accessibility and protections for Native American and Alaska Native voters being eroded by restrictive state laws. Republican Senator Lindsey Graham announced that “not one Republican Senator will vote for HR#1.” Congressman Jim Clyburn is urging the Senate to find a way around the filibuster to allow for the swift passage of the Lewis Act asserting, “There’s no way to let filibusters deny voting rights.” For those who were privileged to know him, Lewis was a gentle giant. As a member from Georgia for 33 years, Lewis became known as the “Conscience of the Congress” for his unwavering integrity and support for justice. Lewis suffered a fractured skull, yet he never wavered in his commitment to promote equality for all. Dying of pancreatic cancer, he returned to Washington on June 7th to take a public stand on the newly minted Black Lives Matter Plaza on 16th St. after Trump teargassed peaceful protesters including the pastor of the Saint John’s Church for a photo opportunity holding a bible upside down in front of the church. Standing in front of the White House with D.C. Mayor Muriel Bowser, Lewis was clearly struggling but defiant in the face of injustice. He is now gone, but his passion for the rights of every American should inspire us. Fair elections were central to his life's work and the fight for fairness continues.
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ARTS PITTSBURGH NATIVE JESSE ANDREWS WRITES PIXAR'S UPCOMING, 'LUCA'
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hen Jesse Andrews, a Pittsburgh-native book and film writer, spoke with Pittsburgh Current, he treated his interview answers like a rough draft that’s been frustrating him. The Harvard graduate with three published novels and recent experience at Pixar kept apologizing, saying he wished he had interesting stories to tell journalists about his life. “But maybe that’s ultimately a fact of being a writer, that you go into writing because you’re not much of a campfire storyteller,” Andrews said, “That you need to sit at a typing machine and word, and reword, and reword, and read it, and realize it’s not very good, and scrap the whole thing and start over and do it a thousand times until you actually have something worth putting out into the world.” Andrews, who grew up in Point Breeze, currently resides in San Francisco, where he’s been contributing to the script for the upcoming Pixar film “Luca” for the last three years, among other projects. Andrews is most wellknown for writing the 2012 novel “Me and Earl and the Dying Girl,” later adapted into a 2015 film for which he wrote the script. He also wrote the 2016 novel “The Haters,”
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Jesse Andrews
another irreverent coming-ofage comedy following teenagers, and the 2018 “MunMun,” a satire following an impoverished, rat-sized boy in a world in which one’s wealth directly translates to their physical size. Back in 2017, Andrews was trying to direct his first fea-
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ture film, a movie headlined by Issa Rae and Bill Hader called “Empress of Serenity,” but it didn’t end up receiving funding. However, the script got passed around, and eventually, Pixar got their eyes on it and liked it, according to Andrews. After enjoying that script,
Pixar flew Andrews in and ended up giving him some work. In December of 2017, Andrews started working on “Luca,” a Pixar movie directed by Enrico Casarosa coming this June that follows a young boy in Italy’s coming-of-age story mashed up with fantastical elements like sea monsters. “It’s exhilarating. It’s a rush,” Andrews said. “It’s my first time working on a movie with this kind of visibility, for one thing. When you’re working on a smaller movie, it’s still going to go out to a lot of people, but not on a scale that a Pixar movie does. Seeing something resembling the final product after working on it for so long is incredibly exciting, Andrews said. The public got a glimpse of it recently as well when a teaser trailer for the film released online Feb. 25, featuring the lush, endearing and colorful CG animation Pixar fans have come to expect. “There is this moment, after you finish work on it, where you see the movie largely animated for the first time, and your breath is taken away.” Andrews said. “You’re meeting for the first time, almost this child, that you’ve been midwifing and you left right after it was born, and now it’s this person who’s talking and has a personality.”
MUSIC Andrews’ work on “Luca” dovetails with the career path he’s been on since the release of his first novel about nine years ago, splitting his professional time between making films and books, which both typically involve comedy and young characters. “I feel very happy to split time between the two,” Andrews said. “In a way, each of them are designed for the two kinds of myself, in a way.” Writing books is for his introverted side, who’s happy to spend months working alone on a project. “[Film]-making is for the side of me that really loves people and [is] just really excited to find people to work with who are funnier and smarter than me,” Andrews said, laughing. “They can hand off whatever I do, to them, and they make it so much better.” Andrews has also been working on a new novel that he doesn’t want to talk much about, as it hasn’t yet been purchased. However, he did say it follows a character the same age as him, 38, which marks a departure for him considering his usual tendency to write teens. “I’ve been a young person, and I haven’t been an older person, you know?” Andrews said. “Part of it is, I feel like I’m more drawn, I feel like I have more to say about that part of one’s life. But I do find myself interest-
A scene from Pixar's Luca
ed in stretching out a little and not just exploring the same thing. My nightmare is to do the same thing twice and just run out of ideas.” Andrews appears to be no stranger to self-criticism and cognizance of ways his work could be better. The flipside of the thrill and joy of working on a movie that will be widely seen as a Pixar movie is that millions of critical eyes are going to be on it, he said. “At the same time, though, you’re also operating, as a writer, with this massive safety net, which is to say a studio that will transform anything you write into something so beautiful and expressive,” Andrews said.
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Sealed proposals shall be deposited at the Administration Building, Bellefield Entrance Lobby, 341 South Bellefield Avenue, Pittsburgh, Pa., 15213, on March 16, 2021, until 2:00 P.M., local prevailing time for: Service & Maintenance Contracts at Various Schools, Facilities, Facilities & Properties: Gas and Oil Burners, Boilers and Furnaces Inspection, Service, and Repairs (REBID) Pgh. Crescent ECC Various Asphalt and Concrete Repairs General Prime Project Manual and Drawings will be available for purchase on Monday, February 22, 2021 at Modern Reproductions (412-488-7700), 127 McKean Street, Pittsburgh, Pa., 15219 between 9:00 A.M. and 4:00 P.M. The cost of the Project Manual Documents is non-refundable. Project details and dates are described in each project manual.
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ARTS
LATE NIGHT CULTURE
ART ALL NIGHT PITTSBURGH 2021 WILL BE ANOTHER VIRTUAL INSTALLMENT BY NICK EUSTIS - PITTSBURGH CURRENT COLUMNIST
The dawning of another March marks one year since the COVID-19 pandemic forced the complete change of everyday life in America. It happened right as the weather began to warm, as Pittsburgh’s many spring and summer festivals made preparations for that year. Now, those annual events are organizing COVID-safe events for the second year running. One of these is the 24th annual Art All Night festival, which will be held virtually on April 24 and 25. The event will see hundreds of artists from across Pittsburgh, professionals and amateurs alike, submitting art in a vast range of media to be displayed for 22 consecutive hours. “It will be a lot of what [audiences] experienced last year, as well as what they may have experienced attending in-person events in the past,” said Marisa Golden, a co-organizer of Art All Night for the past twelve years. “That includes music performances, painting, drawing, sculpture, interactive elements for children and adults...we will have a little bit of everything.” In year’s past, Art All Night would be held in a large empty space, usually a warehouse, which would be converted into a large-scale art gallery. Artists regardless of skill level are encouraged to submit
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their creations to be displayed and even purchased by the public. The event begins on a Saturday afternoon, and the festivities proceed continuously until the following Sunday afternoon, attracting approximately 15,000 attendees every year. This time last year, Golden and the team of volunteers that put Art All Night together every year were planning for an in-person festival. Then, COVID restrictions went into effect. It forced a complete rethinking of plans, and cancelling the event completely was on the table. Ultimately, the choice was made to push the event back from April to May, and to make Art All Night one of the first events
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in the city to go all online. “We felt like the arts community and the people of Pittsburgh would really appreciate having the show in some capacity,” said Golden. “We agreed, in essentially three weeks time, to build an online environment and give people the best thing we could come up with having never done it that way before.” The complete shift in platform forced their volunteer staff to learn new things on the fly, particularly building a brand new digital art gallery. It was a far cry from the work they used to do setting up an in-person event. “We’re used to doing a lot of things with our hands.
We’re used to converting an empty building into an art gallery for 22 hours,” said Golden. This year, in addition to all the usual artistic creations and performers that fill the halls of Art All Night, there will be a live painting session during the festival. Two artists will collaborate in real time, without having met or consulted prior, on an original painting. Those in the audience will be able to watch the painters’ creative process, and even bid on the work in an auction once completed. This year’s event also puts more emphasis on breakout rooms, where people can congregate virtually in small groups to discuss specific topics, engage with interactive activities, or just hang out. But no matter how one chooses to experience it, Golden hopes Art All Night will create a space for community through the power of art, even minus a big warehouse to fill. “That’s one of the primary points of Art All Night: the idea that art can be shared and experienced by anyone and everyone,” said Golden. “That creates a community.” The 24th annual Art All Night will be held from April 24 at 4 p.m. to April 25 at 2 p.m. A call for artist submissions will be put out in early April. For more information, visit artallnight.org.
MUSIC
ON YEAH? INDIE-ROCK BAND GAADGE PUSHES THE BOUNDARIES OF HOW BIG A HOME-RECORDING CAN SOUND
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udiophiles and home-recording aficionados will not believe their ears when they hear Gaadge, it’s that simple. Frontman Mitch DeLong, who founded the project as a solo endeavor in Erie in 2014 and has since expanded it to a full band since moving to Pittsburgh in 2016, recorded the group’s 12-song debut on free Audacity software he found on the Internet. But for some reason, the Crafted Sounds record, which is titled Yeah?, sounds like it was handled by pros and is larger than life. “All of this stuff has been recorded either at my house or our practice studio,” DeLong, who lives in Bloomfield and works in a Strip District coffee shop, matter-of-factly explains. “We have yet to go into a studio to do recording.” DeLong doesn’t heap praise on the Audacity software, though. Instead he hails Ryan Hizer of Good Sport and Trey Curtis, who mixed and mastered all of his rough draft recordings. “Both of those guys just nailed it,” he laughs. Gaadge – which references a line DeLong half-heard in a movie while falling asleep one night – debuted with a split cassette they funded and self-released with lo-fi Pittsburgh heroes Barlow in 2018.
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Gaadge
The first peek at the newest Gaadge material hit the Internet Feb. 11 with the release of the single “Twenty Two.”
“[‘Twenty Two’] seemed the most accessible representation of the thing we could put out to get people’s attention,” DeLong says. “There are catchy songs [on the new LP] but they’re all a little different.” The man speaks the truth. Yeah? flirts with the sensory-drenching shoegaze style of My Bloody Valentine and Swirlies as much as it does the sloppy but catchy college rock of Pavement.
Songs like “Intro” rock and blister the skin; they sit right alongside tracks like “Creeping Weeks,” which is complete with lush synth washes and quiet acoustic refrains. At times, the band echoes the lo-fi ethos and vibe of Pittsburgh’s Barlow. Ethan Oliva, a White Hall native and CCAC student who works a retail job most days, plays guitar alongside DeLong in the band. He’s also one of the two Gaadgeettes who also happens to play in Barlow; drummer Andy Yadeski is the other one. (Bassist Nick Boston
rounds out the line-up.) “I’ve been playing and writing – badly – since I was 5,” Oliva says. “I pretty much taught myself everything with recording and guitar playing.” But what about COVID? Well, Gaadge knows its social distancing and plowed forward as best it could. The group started recording the LP in April 2020, as the first wave of the pandemic was cresting. Many of the band’s fans haven’t even heard much of the material. “We’re just dying to play these things live,” Oliva says. “For the most part, these songs have not seen the light of day or anything.” Oliva, like DeLong, also is stunned by the scope and polish the free Audacity software branded their quartet’s work. “I think this album sounds much bigger than the setting actually was,” Oliva says. “I think people might be shocked to hear how little equipment was used.” The Pittsburgh institution Crafted Sounds will release Yeah? on cassette, CD, and on your favorite music-streaming platform on March 19.
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ESSAY
I WAS THE FAKEST HOBO IN THE HISTORY OF TRAINS BY MATTHEW WALLENSTEIN - PITTSBURGH CURRENT COLUMNIST
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oday in the mail I received my copy of an anthology edited by Ben Gwin. It is made up of short stories and poems about Pittsburgh. Along with others it has a story by C, and a story I wrote. Her story is about when she was squatting in a house, living with a guy she had a messy relationship with. She used the same pseudonym she had used for years in her letters to prisoners. I started thinking about the last trip we took together. It was this past summer. I was always giving her a hard time about her years of hopping trains. But I finally came around and admitted that I thought it would be fun. We drove her truck up to a town in Maine. There was a small trainyard there. The plan was to ride up north for a short trip and go to Stephen King’s house. We planned to walk around town and see all the places from his books. She had planned it all very well: where to leave the truck, where to sneak into the yard, where to sit while we waited for the train without the Bull seeing us. The sun was setting as we made our way over toward the tracks. We walked a residential street,
cut through some trees, snuck to a clearing, and found the spot. She said it had to be where the hobos waited for trains, because of the empty beer boxes and remnants of a fire. I sat on a concrete tube. She sat on an overturned pickle bucket. There were trees between us and the tracks. It was summer and it was humid but it was beginning to cool off. We waited. Much of
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riding trains was waiting, she explained to me. I put on a long sleeve shirt to keep the mosquitos off my arms. They started eating my ankles instead. We made fun of each other for a while, talked, took turns peeking out at the tracks, explored the woods. Night had spread like blue ink. Eventually a train came down the tracks. It stopped. We heard workers talking in the distance.
Their voices got louder. They were getting close to us. Then they stopped talking. We ducked, crawled into the brush. They shined flashlights over the area where we were hiding. After a few minutes they kept walking. She motioned for me to follow her. She went over a few sets of tracks. I was trying very hard to not make a lot of noise while running over the crushed
ESSAY rock. We made it past the watchtower and walked alongside the train. A little while passed and she told me it wasn’t the right one and we would have to go back and wait some more. So we did. It was getting late. She unpacked her tarp and we spread it over a flat spot on the ground. We unrolled our sleeping bags. She got in hers and I got in mine. She started talking about her ex, the one she wrote the story about. He lived up that way now. She didn’t want to run into him. I did what I always did when she brought it up, I told her it would be fine, we wouldn’t run into anyone, and that I was with her if we did. I pulled the sleeping bag over my face to keep the mosquitos out but they were buzzing and biting and unrelenting. A train rumbled down the tracks. We both hopped up, pulled ourselves from our bags. After rushing to where we could see it, it turned out to be an Amtrak. We started to talk about the past, about our childhoods. It was a subject neither of us went too far into with most people. We lay there trading war stories, some we had both told the other before. We got into all the hell and endurance and apparitions. But after a while, as always, it came back around to us laughing and joking and planning
adventures. I woke up at dawn to the ground shaking and the squeal of a train. I got out of the sleeping bag and watched as what was probably our train moved down the tracks away from us. We’d missed it. I looked over at her sleeping bag. She was still out. I didn’t want to wake her up and tell her about the train. I crawled back into my bag. Everything was soaked from dew; my sleeping bag, the tarp, my backpack. The sky was blue. The sky was purple. The sky was yellow. She woke up. We sat there some more, waiting for another train. As the day went on it got hotter and hotter. Out of boredom we picked wild flowers and put them in a barrel. Rusted beer cans and candy bar wrappers sat at the bottom under stagnant water. The flowers floated on the water. Our game was to cover the whole surface with them. By midday we decided to abandon the train plan, cut our losses and go swimming in the ocean. We drove down to the cliffs where my favorite lighthouse was. There were piled rocks in front of the beach. The sun had made them very hot. The sand was covered with broken shells and dried seaweed. Everything hurt to step on, made reaching the ocean seem better and better. We
got to the water and it was so damn cold. I pushed her into the waves. We swam out a little ways. I started picking up clumps of seaweed and throwing them at her. She tried to retaliate but when she threw it the wind blew it back into her face. She had all these wet chunks on her. I said she was doing my job for me. She told me I was the fakest hobo in the history of trains. After swimming we climbed a chain link fence and got into an abandoned army fort. Plant life climbed out of every crack, grew thick and tall. We walked the cliffs to the lighthouse. Then, went back to her truck. She drove us up to Bangor and we saw all the Stephen King sites. I made her put her arm in the sewer that inspired IT. On the drive back we told each other stories. She was a skilled raconteur. I really liked the story of how her parents met. I had her tell it to me again. She rolled her eyes and went into it. I would always forget the details until she started retelling it, then it’d all come back to me. I am having trouble thinking of all those details now and wish I could ask her, but 7 days ago I received a telephone call telling me she had taken her own life.
A couple weeks ago I talked to her on the phone. She said she wasn’t doing well. A few hours later she sent me a text telling me she was checking herself into the hospital, she was a mess, she wanted help. She called me every day while she was in there. We had long conversations. By the end of her stay she seemed to be doing better. She was eager to check out. When we were sitting in that train yard—breaking sticks into smaller sticks, writing our names on things, sitting, talking—I told her that there were people who come into your life and leave and that she wasn’t one of those for me. I told her earnestly that I knew we would know each other for the rest of our lives, I would still be annoying her at 90, that for all my nonsense and teasing that I really thought she was amazing. She said she was glad we were friends, said she wasn’t going anywhere. Last night in my car I was trying to think of someone I could talk to about her death. That is, someone I would want to talk to. The only person I could come up with who I could trust with it was her. I could call C, I thought. Then I remembered all over again.
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PA R T I N G S H OT PITTSBURGH CURRENT PHOTO BY JAKE MYSLIWCZYK
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