Tag: Pittsburgh

A Trip to Pittsburgh in the Aftermath

A view of downtown from the top of Mount Washington after riding the Duquesne Incline

I could write a book about our trip to Pittsburgh. We were traveling there for a mini medical school reunion.

So many thoughts flood my mind:

  • The choices we make in our lives, being reminded of a turning point and what might have been. We could have settled in Pittsburgh but wanted to be closer to family. The road not taken is hard to resist imagining.
  • The side trip that took us at least 90 minutes out of our way, not to mention the time spent at the stop itself, a museum to see an exhibit of Andrew Wyeth’s paintings. When I suggested the detour, Gary initially didn’t want to take the time knowing what a long drive it was already from Albany to Pittsburgh. Then when we got in the car to start what should be a seven- or eight-hour trip, he said, “What the heck. We aren’t in any rush. Let’s go to the museum.”  I think he took pity on me, knowing my spirits were low from the results of the election and imagining a stop to look at art might help. He was right – it worked…for a while anyway.
  • The juxtaposition of gleaming office buildings, the beauty of the confluence of the three rivers and the unhoused, hurting people on the streets of that same downtown area. It is painful to see folks strung out, young people panhandling, wondering what’s worse: to walk by with a shake of the head and a murmured “sorry,” or to give some money? Our society must do better taking care of its own. The wealth suggested by elaborate skyscrapers, high-end stores and fancy hotels, side-by-side with people whose possessions are held in a bunch of plastic bags begs for a more humane economy. Below is evidence of the issue in Pittsburgh.
  • Gathering with friends from 40 years ago, some we did see eight years ago but others we had not, in the aftermath of an election that broke my heart but likely brought joy to some of theirs, was daunting. I was worried about how it would go.

It turned out that our reunion was warm, and we avoided politics, but I did have some interesting discussions with the woman I knew best all those years ago. We sat next to each other during the Pitt-Virginia football game that neither one of us was interested in. I knew she was a Trumper, and she knows I’m a bleeding-heart liberal. We would not change each other’s minds about anything. I come away as mystified by how I feel about folks who voted for Trump as I was before. Maybe I understand a bit more about her thought process – she sees the world differently than I do. One part of our conversation I will share because I think it is revealing.

I explained that I could not forgive Trump for, among other things, his reaction to the unite the right event in Charlottesville where the marchers chanted, “Jews will not replace us” and carried tiki torches. Trump responded saying there were good people on both sides. My friend explained that Trump was referring to the people who were trying to prevent the removal of confederate monuments – that he was sympathetic to their cause –  not to the chant. I said that I didn’t understand his statement that way and if that was the case he needed to make it clearer. She told me that it was obvious to her that’s what he meant. I said that even if that was what he meant, those monuments needed to come down. She disagreed. She asked me if knew anything about Abraham Lincoln. I said yes. She went on to explain that Lincoln supported monuments and naming forts after confederate generals to allow the South to save face. I responded by saying that may well be, and may have made sense in 1865, but it is now 2024, and the country needs to understand that the South lost the war. Those statutes and stories can be displayed and explained in museums and history books. Monuments in public squares should help us to remember and celebrate our better selves – the people honored don’t have to be perfect, but they do have to be on the right side of history. She just shook her head saying history should be preserved. I said, let’s change the subject and we did.

The game took almost three hours. There was a lot of conversation. Most of it was ordinary stuff about family, travel, health, but we couldn’t help but return to politics every so often, after all some of those subjects involve policy. Every time we did, we had to agree to disagree. At one point she said, amused, “You’re just too woke.” I smiled and said, “Exactly – that’s no insult to me. I work at being woke.” We both laughed.

I was proud of myself. I didn’t pretend that I didn’t disagree with her, but we didn’t get heated.  I was able to hold on to the good times we shared, aware of the pain she’s had in her life, the disappointments and struggles. I assume she could do the same for me. We hugged when we said our good-byes.

Gary was sitting next to his friend and former classmate, her husband, who shares her politics. After we left, Gary and I compared notes about our experience of the game. Interestingly, they had not discussed politics at all. Not surprisingly they were more focused on the game, but they talked about other subjects too – work, memories, family, being grandpas. No politics, though. I wondered how they managed that.

I am still processing the entirety of the trip. It was only 4 days, including all that driving, but it represented so much. I am also still processing the election results. It is going to take a long time to digest it all.

The best part of the game that Pitt lost – the half time show. The band was terrific.

Graduation

The end of our time in Pittsburgh was filled with emotion. I looked forward to being closer to family, but I dreaded having to start anew in another unfamiliar city. I wasn’t sure what I was going to be doing when I got to Albany. I hadn’t found a job yet, doing a search long distance proved fruitless.  As a result, like my move to Pittsburgh four years earlier, I was relocating without anything certain. Gary, on the other hand, knew exactly what he would be doing, but it was daunting. Internship and residency, more tests of his knowledge, skills and endurance awaited. We were also saying good-bye to close friends who were scattering far and wide, each going to different programs.  It was bittersweet.

It was into this emotional stew that our families arrived for graduation. My parents flew in and were staying in dorm rooms on the University of Pittsburgh campus, just a few blocks from our apartment. Gary’s parents, sisters and brother drove from Queens in his Dad’s Cadillac. They stayed at a hotel. Planning for our families to be together was stressful. Everyone got along fine, but we were still new at this. Our families’ styles were so different. Gary’s family would enjoy a tour of the medical school, with extended stops in the pathology and anatomy labs to look at specimens. Not so much for my parents – a tour of the med school would be fine, but they’d prefer to skip the labs (or maybe it was just me that didn’t want to go to the labs!). They would be more inclined to visit a museum or take a walk in Schenley Park.

Meals were another thing. Gary’s parents didn’t require kosher food, but there were limited options. It was important to have fish (not shellfish) available. My parents liked fish, so that wasn’t a problem. The question was where to go to get it, Pittsburgh wasn’t famous for seafood. Gary and I, living on a tight budget, didn’t go to the fancier restaurants either. My perception was that the Baksts liked finer things (note the aforementioned Cadillac). Gary had told me years before that his folks didn’t go out to eat often and that his mom liked a restaurant that had white tablecloths. Celebrating Gary’s graduation was a big deal. I wanted the dinner to be perfect. Not too much pressure!

After asking around, I made a reservation at the Fox Chapel Yacht Club. After all my worry, it went fine. At least I think it did. I have no memories of the meal itself. So, I am assuming if something horrible happened, I would remember! I do have some photos, showing us smiling, which may, or may not, support my assumption.

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Gary and his sibs in their traditional pose – youngest to oldest (L-R) in front of the yacht club

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Gary and his dad.

We did a mix of things over the two days they were there, showing them around and leaving time to relax. We always loved showing visitors the Cathedral of Learning, a gothic tower at the center of a green space on Pitt’s campus. On the ground floor of the cathedral there were model traditional classrooms from other countries, including Sweden, Israel, Poland, among others. I never got tired of looking at them.

We successfully made it to the morning of graduation. Everyone gathered at our apartment. Gary put on his gown. I asked him to put on the cap so I could take some pictures. He was none too pleased. I think his nerves were a little frayed, he was impatient to leave and he was taking his stress out on me. Rochelle interjected, asking him to cooperate, after all he would want pictures. He did, but he wasn’t happy.

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See? The photo he begrudgingly posed for.

Then he left. We would meet up with him after the graduation.

I led our group to the Carnegie Music Hall, so many things in Pittsburgh bear the Carnegie name, where the graduation ceremony was held. It was a gray, rainy day, but the Hall was only a few blocks from our apartment.

We entered the grand foyer of the hall, with its marble floors and ornate columns, looking appropriately majestic for the occasion. We saw all the graduates gathered on one side, in their black robes and green hoods, arranged for a group photo. We stood for a minute, scanning the group, finally spotting Gary in the first row. I waved and smiled. He looked happier, more relaxed.

We went up to the balcony to take our seats. My parents were on my right, David sat to my left. I looked through the program. In front of Gary’s name there were two symbols; an asterisk indicating that he was Cum Laude, and a small cross which meant that he was admitted to the medical honor society (Alpha Omega Alpha). I proudly pointed out the honors to everyone. Not many of his classmates had achieved either honor, much less both.

During the ceremony, each time I turned to look at David, he had tears in his eyes. At one point, as he dabbed his eyes with his handkerchief, he whispered, “Who would have thought I would get to see this?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I had nothing when I came here.”

It had been quite a journey for the entire Bakst family.