To Whom It May Concern
Dear Pittsburgh,
I know we haven’t always been friends. We got off to a rough start. Coming to you after being with that other city was hard. You didn’t keep yourself up like I thought you should, and your ethnic cuisine was less than inviting. You just didn’t do it for me musically, and your ugly brown winters left me dreaming of that other place. Then, as a sort of kick in the teeth, there was that time you sent the crack junkies over to liberate my much-loved CD collection. “Street welfare,” you called it. The policewoman you sent was nice, and I appreciated the detective and the fingerprints he took, but you never called back and talked about what happened between us. What gives?
But after the move, I thought we had turned a corner. I found a part of you that I liked, Pittsburgh, and I really wanted things to work out. We were finally getting along, and I felt I could let my guard down.
You gave me a great place with amenities within walking distance and enough bus routes to make the car nearly unnecessary. In fact, the bus service you provided was so fine that I felt like I could leave my car unattended for days at a time. You never bothered it, Pittsburgh. We were friends now and nothing was coming between us.
But today you did something I didn’t expect. For the first time in months, you picked your money-strapped (but lovable) self up off the pavement and cleaned yourself. You sent forth legions of street sweepers boldly proclaiming in large stenciled letters, “Mayor Tom Murphy’s Pittsburgh Is Picking Up!” The leaves and garbage that had piled in the gutter after months of neglect disappeared under your swirling brushes.
I’m happy for you Pittsburgh, I really am. You look better and I’m sure you feel better too. But next time, would you please give me some sort of sign that you’re going to do such a thing? Sure, the ticket is only $15, and what’s $15 between friends? But really Pittsburgh, did you have to do it like this?
I know, I saw the “Street Cleaning, Thursdays, No Parking” sign out in front of the house when I moved in. Thank you for putting it there. But I honestly thought you had forgotten about it. I thought you had liquidated your sweeper army in an effort to avoid a total fiscal meltdown. What was I to think after you hadn’t come by in months? Every other Thursday had come and gone with nary a word from you. Until now.
You pick the strangest times to show up at my door asking for money. I’ll give it to you, because I know you need the help. But just try to be more considerate in the future. And next time you need some money, why don’t you go and try to hit up the businesses and suburban commuters who use you and then leave you like you’re some cheap floozy, like you’re Toledo, or Cleveland?
Begrudgingly yours,
Jake
