Last Saturday morning, on October 27, 2018, I shockingly read an email of a breaking tragedy unfolding at the Tree of Life.  Some recessed part of my brain recognized the name.  It was immediately familiar.  Reading further, my memory was confirmed when it was mentioned that it was in Squirrel Hill, my former home during college.  Then I looked up the building and it was very familiar visually, from thirty years ago, having gone by it numerous times for four years while living less than a mile away in the neighborhood.  I then tried to process my shock.

I imagine some of my neighbors from then may have been in the building Saturday morning.  I feel the need to honor my former beloved home and neighbors in the wake of the gruesome tragedy.  I hope that by sharing my grief, sadness, and memories of this vibrant area that I’m proud was my home, I may process through my bereavement.  My heart breaks for the peaceful, loving community there.  I have fond memories of the area.

I lived in Squirrel Hill as I attended the University of Pittsburgh from 1987 as an 18 year-old to 1990.  After graduating from U-Pitt in 1990, I built a house at 1646 Pinehurst Court in the Franklin Park area of Pittsburgh.  I can’t believe I remember the address.  It was built about the same time my current home in Denver was.  I then lived in a high-rise apartment in the Green Tree area of Pittsburgh until 1992, when I moved to Chicago following a divorce to start a new life.

The horrific event has taken me back to my life in Pittsburgh and at the University of Pittsburgh.  At U-Pitt, I spent most of my time in the Cathedral of Learning for my English Writing degree, as most of the English classes were located there.  I left for nearby buildings to complete my psychology degree and Asian studies certificate.  I developed a love of photography when I took courses with Pittsburgh Filmmakers.  I learned black and white photography which included developing my images in a dark room.  I also developed a love for video production through Pittsburgh Filmmakers.

I obtained a coveted paid public relations internship with Ketchum Public Relations and then a marketing internship, working with the National Association of Women Business Owners (NAWBO).  My internship supervisor stated I had the most marketable resume.

Squirrel Hill was my first home as an adult.  Remarkably, I still remember the address of the tri-level I lived in: 5832 Beacon Street in Squirrel Hill.  My wonderful landlords in Squirrel Hill who lived below me were Jewish.  I sometimes had dinner with them.  I was in a Jewish sorority at U-Pitt (Sigma Delta Tau), and was fine with others assuming I was Jewish.  On behalf of the sorority, I competed in a Greek Goddess competition, placing as a runner-up.

Murray Avenue is the main street off of Beacon Street.  I caught a bus near the intersection of Beacon and Murray to go to U-Pitt.  Murray Avenue is a bustling street where I walked to purchase freshly-baked bagels, do my laundry and purchase groceries at the nearby Giant Eagle grocery store.

I got to know the business owners on Murray Avenue well as a customer and also to sell advertisements to them for The Pitt News, where I was also a staff writer.  I was awarded “Most Persistent Account Executive” for transforming the least lucrative advertising territory of Squirrel Hill to most lucrative, over Oakland, where U-Pitt is located.  This was on my resume for a long time.  I had taken on the undesired territory as a challenge.  There must be roots in this experience and eventually getting and MBA in Market Strategy.  Fellow Pitt News Account Executives asked for my “strategy,” which I think was my caring relationships and connections with many business owners of Squirrel Hill, who were also friends and neighbors.  Some may have been in the building this past Saturday.

When I drove to Pittsburgh from Charlotte, NC in 1987, I was stunned by its beauty.  My first view was at night, coming out of Fort Pitt Tunnel to be struck by a lit-up downtown Pittsburgh, flanked by rivers and bridges.  The city claims to have the most bridges in the world, with 446.  I loved the ethnic diversity and attending the annual International Festival.  Many weekends, I went to the Strip District for groceries and ate great food at Station Square.

I didn’t personally know the neighbors who passed, but we shared the same space, possibly the same businesses, university, and likely passed each other.  We may have connections I’m not aware of.  Maybe they were my teachers in college or their children were my classmates.  There were likely many connections to Squirrel Hill.

I have had problems to contend with these days.  But this tragic event put things in perspective. I’m alive.  I may have time that those who passed do not.