I don’t know much about the public transportation system in Pittsburgh. I do know that the three “61” buses run pretty frequently. When we moved to Swisshelm Park and I wanted to hang around after school with my friends, I’d take the 61B to Swissvale and my mother would pick me up at the drug store.
There was, when I was young and living on Shady Avenue Extension, a bus route called the “Shuttle Bus.” This bus wound its way along Beechwood Boulevard and would transport its riders to other places in Squirrel Hill. That bus played a small role in my growing up times.
I was seven years old and I had discovered that I loved to play the piano. After lessons that occurred once a week at John Minadeo, my parents asked me if I was serious about the piano and I said yes, I was. My mother found a piano teacher who lived on Monitor Street and my parents managed to squeeze $50 out of their tight budget to buy me a used piano. What a day that was, when the piano got delivered. It was an upright style piano and it fit into a corner of the dining room.
How does this tie in with the Squirrel Hill shuttle bus? After two years in which my mother drove me to my lesson and back, my parents began to think about my taking the shuttle bus to my piano teacher’s house. It’s hard to describe what we all went through over this. I would have to cross Beechwood Boulevard–Pittsburgh’s “Fifth Avenue” in New York. Also, this part of Beechwood Boulevard made a sudden turn there and cars drove around that bend quickly. Then there was my grandfather’s loud opposition; I was only 9 years old; strangers and Russian spies lurked everywhere; what were my parents thinking?
In the end my parents decided to let me do this grownup thing on my own. So picture me, still very much a child, with my grandfather’s lectures ringing in my ears about strangers and weirdos, clutching my piano books, my dime held tightly in my fist. The first time I crossed Beechwood Boulevard by myself I was really terrified but nothing bad ever happened. It was fun, looking at the grownups riding the bus. It really was only a very short ride to get where I was going and I felt proud of myself.
lgmwriting 