ownership
Wednesday, May 19th, 2010
I was disappointed. And then I wasn’t.
Every month Kim, Sara & I host a cityLIVE! event. We are interested, as we believe our audience is, in understanding issues that impact our city and region. We are interested in holding a forum that allows everyone to attend. And we are most interested in nurturing a thoughtful exchange of ideas.
And so last night I was disappointed. Some people came to our event with their minds made up. They intended not to listen to others. They did not intend to exchange ideas. The resulting conversation was bitter and cruel. “Answer the question” they shouted when they didn’t like the answer they were given. Some even challenged the location of the venue, the legitimacy of the panel and the sincerity of the speakers.
Admittedly, the topic we chose was an emotional one — the fate of Pittsburgh’s Civic Arena. Should the Igloo be demolished or should it be saved? This iconic building, a spectacular remnant of the Modern Movement, has a sordid history. It was built where a vibrant neighborhood once was. It left behind it a wake of blight and devastation as big as a Tsunami wave. The Hill District, a predominately African American neighborhood, still lies in ruins sixty years later. Lingering bitterness and mistrust accompany the physical devastation. Mistrust of black for white. Mistrust of everyone’s motives. MISTRUST. I did not understand this clearly until last night.
The event and the tense exchanges left me feeling unsettled, as if somehow the questions we’d asked, the issues we’d raised, the panel we had so carefully selected were irrelevant next to this much bigger issue. I felt like an impostor in the room. I heard clearly that I had no right as a white woman to have a say about the fate of the Igloo.
This thought rankled with me.
How can a civic building belong to one neighborhood or to one group of people? How can it’s future lay in the hands of politicians who will soon be gone? This building and it’s history is far bigger than that. Its fate should be decided by Pittsburgh’s people – ALL of them. As the event came to a close I felt very alone with these thoughts.
Then something remarkable happened. A steady stream of people came to thank me. Emails followed. How unfortunate that not everyone understood the nature of the event, they said. The Igloo is important to us too. We want an opportunity to be educated, to help decide. We want to hear other perspectives . We want to be involved.
So many voices, thinking just what I had. And with every voice, the disappointment faded.
On this trip I decided to focus on 
We sold our Lake House a couple of years ago. It had become a burdensome retreat, large and a lot to care for. Most days we’d sit in the tiniest room just off the kitchen, reading and looking at the gorgeous lake view.
Our bus stop shelters are as dreary as January in Pittsburgh. While they may be utilitarian they are quite pedestrian and uninspired. The essential bus stop sign hasn’t even been integrated into the shelter. It stands all alone, attached to a nearby post or pole, an afterthought. What a shameful solution for a bus system that has more riders than most other cities in the US. 
