News item: Santorum's Penn Hills house gets occupancy permit
U.S. Sen. Rick Santorum has cleared up another issue that arose after the Penn Hills School District began investigating whether he is a Penn Hills resident.
The municipality yesterday inspected the home he and his wife, Karen, own on Stephens Lane and granted them an occupancy permit. ....
(Code officer Mary Lou) Flinn said the residents are listed as Alyssa DeLuca, Rick Santorum's niece; her husband, Bart, who is not related to Penn Hills Mayor Anthony DeLuca Jr.; and a child. ...
In the county for jury duty yesterday, Santorum, who has six children, said, "We have a nice arrangement there. It works out well. Candidly, we just sort of work it out.
"Sometimes, a couple of my kids stay over there [with the niece and her husband]. We get to stay at grandma's house, and a couple of kids go over and stay with their cousin. To me, that's a family situation.
"I don't know what people's business that is, to be very honest with you. The fact is, I own a home, pay taxes, reside here, go to jury duty. To me, this is much ado about nothing.
"We usually stay at the in-laws. They raised 10 kids there, so they have plenty of room for us. They [niece and her husband] house sit for us; they watch the house."
Several people, upon reading my screed yesterday, questioned whether I could take a "flyer" to work from one of the park-and-ride lots. Unfortunately, I live in the Bermuda Triangle of PAT service. The nearest place for me to catch a flyer would be Swissvale, or, barring that, Lincoln Highway. I'm nowhere near either. I could also leave the car at the park-and-ride lot in Duquesne, but that doesn't help much.
Worse yet, I work in Oakland --- which PAT describes as "Pittsburgh's culturally diverse academic and medical core ... offers something for everyone." Yes, everything except an express bus to the Mon-Yough area. Trafford? Yes. Monroeville? Yes. McKeesport? What are you, some kind of a nut? So, I'm stuck taking two buses. But I do appreciate the advice.
What I really need is a 56J, which would pick me up at my house and deposit me at the office. Oh, it might make a few stops on the way --- for doughnuts, for instance --- but it would skirt all of the other stops and cross-traffic. Of course, between maintenance for the bus and paying the driver's wages, the Port Authority would be losing about $500 on each trip, but I'd be glad to help out. I could vacuum out the bus on weekends. And they wouldn't have to give me a new bus; a nice old GM Coach would suit my purposes.
There's more on the potential PAT service cuts that could happen early next year in Pat Cloonan's story in last night's Daily News.
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Speaking of which, some how I missed this article by classmate and News desker Brian Krasman in last Wednesday's paper. When I finally saw it, I laughed so hard I thought my pants would never dry:
Leave it to "Pulp Fiction" to offer the ultimate pastry wisdom.
It was Fabienne who, before her boyfriend Butch participated in a bloody massacre, uttered the now immortal line, "Any time is a good time for pie."
She couldn't be more right. When doesn't a nice slice of apple or strawberry or banana cream pie hit the spot? If you disagree, you should be under intense investigation by the federal government because, in case you didn't know, that's an immediate right-to-surveillance violation according to the Patriot Act.
I do not think that municipalities deploy wireless broadband networks as a hobby, a fun thing to do in between council sessions and budget discussions. They do it because there are compelling reasons for it: saving on the city's telecommunications costs, remote utility monitoring, public safety, cheap broadband for low-income families.
Therefore, NOT having a law against municipal deployments does not automatically mean the cities will all rush in to deliver broadband. Placing restrictions on municipal deployments may, however, relieve the pressure on the cable and DSL operators to upgrade their networks, deliver higher bandwidth, lower prices and provide service to low-income neighborhoods. It is this pressure, which a robust, normally functioning "market" should be providing, that the telcos do not want.
I was reading the news headlines during my lunch today when I came across this story on ABC News.com:
Headline: Religious Conservatives Demand Changes at Nation’s Parks -- Debate over ‘Moral Values’ Spills Over Into Nation’s Landmarks. ...
The Constitution sets forth a principle that there should be a separation of church and state. So as long as I am stuck here in Jesusland, at least until my visa application to the U.S. of Canada clears, my advice to you is to butt out of my life. I do not need you to dictate what I should view nor how I should view it. If I don’t want to watch something that I find offensive, guess what? I won’t watch it, I’ll just simply walk away. I won’t be inclined to make my personal concerns a political crusade and take the issues to the highest levels of government for them to cleanse in a proper manner. It’s called taking personal responsibility, look into it.
I try to take the bus to and from work as often as possible, because we don't have free parking at our office. As I've mentioned before, I need to take two buses; one out of Picksberg to a point midway between Picksberg and Our Fair City, and then another from the midway point to my home in the Mon-Yough metroplex.
This map, drawn by the Tube City Online Multimedia Dept., will serve to illustrate:
(not to scale)
All together, this trip takes a little more than a hour, including the transfer at the midway point, which is alongside a state highway. The second bus only runs every 40 minutes or so, and if I take the first bus too early, I have a long layover; if I miss my first bus, I get home up to two hours later. It's not a lot of fun, and I question how much money I'm really saving.
A week or so ago, my regular bus driver suggested I try a different combination that, he assured me, would get me home faster.
So the other night, when the first part of the combination that the driver had mentioned came before my regular bus, I decided to try it instead.
I can now say, conclusively, that there are whole areas of the Mon Valley that I've never, ever seen before. At least before that night. Here's how the new route went:
(not to scale)
We passed the same video rental store twice. The third time we approached that same intersection again, I moved toward the front of the bus, having decided that I was going to get off, call a cab, and go home that way. I felt a little like "Charlie on the MTA" in the old song by the Kingston Trio, and I'm not sure, but I think we slipped through a wormhole in space at one point. I also saw Mr. Peabody and Sherman fly past the windows with a WABAC machine.
Just at that moment, the bus veered sharply to the left, and soon I was back on a familiar road that I knew was close to home. Good thing, too, because I can't imagine how much worse turning myself over to the vagaries of Yellow Cab would have been. But I wasn't in my right mind by then. By the time the bus made it to the transfer point, I had a headache from carbon monoxide fumes, a stomachache from the constant twists and turns, and a nervous twitch from watching the guy across the aisle rocking back and forth, talking to himself.
Oh, wait a minute; that was my reflection in the bus window that I was watching.
When I finally got home, I knelt down and kissed the berber in the front hallway, before offering a prayer thanking God for delivering me safely from the clutches of the Port Authority. But by crackey, the doggone thing did get me home about 15 minutes sooner.
Anyway, yesterday morning, I saw my regular bus driver again. "I tried that bus you suggested," I said.
"How was it?"
"Well, I'll admit I got home faster," I said, "but, boy, what a cockeyed tour of Pittsburgh you get. I was in neighborhoods where I didn't even realize there were neighborhoods."
He just smiled. "If you don't mind walking a little bit, you may want to try that flyer up ahead," he said, nodding toward another bus that was taking on passengers a few carlengths ahead of ours. "After work, you walk down to the place where the Gulf station used to be, and it'll take you right up here to the avenue, all on one bus."
When I got to the office, I looked up that flyer. At each end of the bus route, I'd have about a mile-long walk to and from the nearest stop. On the leg near my house, most of that walk would be on a busy state highway.
A friend is convinced that I must be giving the bus a bad name, and that the driver's trying to get rid of me. At first, I thought he was crazy, but he's starting to make some sense.
Either that, or all of the diesel fumes are finally getting to me.
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Depending on whether Fast Eddie and his staff are able to funnel some highway-building money to Port Authority and the Commonwealth's other transit agencies, missing my bus connection may be the least of my problems soon, according to Joe Grata in the Post-Gazette.
The state Legislature has refused any sort of additional aid to transit before they adjourn for the year. At least Rendell laid down the law, saying he would veto any attempt by legislators to vote themselves a pay raise, according to Brad Bumsted in the Trib. But they also got into a spitting match over three people who Rendell wanted to appoint to Allegheny County Common Pleas Court, and in the end, no one was appointed.
They say people get the kind of government they deserve. What, oh what, did Pennsyltucky ever do to deserve this, oh Lord?
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P.S. I stole the bus photo from the Antique Motor Coach Association of Pennsylvania Web site, which is well worth a look. "Pa Pitt" is from one of Cy Hungerford's old cartoons for the P-G, via the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh Web site.
I've always had a great fondness for "Peanuts" --- the comic strip, not the legumes, though they're pretty good, too. I've only written one fan letter in my life, when I was 8 years old, to Charles Schulz. To my astonishment, he wrote back. It was a form letter, to be sure, but can you imagine what a thrill it was for a third-grader to get an envelope in the mail with a return address of 1 Snoopy Place, Santa Rosa, Calif.? I wish I still had the letter, but I have no idea whatever happened to it.
I'm not ashamed to admit that I was fairly depressed when Schulz died a few years back, ironically just as his last comic strip was hitting the papers. It was like part of my childhood had died, too. A year or so later, I heard his widow, Jeanne Schulz, being interviewed on the radio as I was driving home from work, and I felt myself starting to choke up again. Goofy? Maybe. But that's the kind of impact Schulz's work had on me.
Still, the syndicate that distributes "Peanuts" announced plans to put his "classic" comic strips into distribution, I was skeptical. There are enough comic strips in the newspaper that have outlived their creators, and frankly, their usefulness. With real estate on the comics pages being scarce enough as it is, why waste the space with reruns? (Or "Reruns," as the case may be.)
I'm not skeptical any more. Reading "Classic Peanuts" for the past few years has been like watching a favorite movie over again, or hearing a certain song on the radio. I first saw all of these early '70s strips in paperback books when I was learning to read; I didn't appreciate many of the punchlines, but I liked the funny pictures. Seeing the same strips now, and being able to appreciate the humor, is a very sweet feeling.
Why the affection for "Peanuts"? Heck, Schulz's doodles have been dissected, analyzed, re-analyzed and studied for more than 50 years, by cultural critics, clerics, countless professors, and other people much smarter than I, so I'm not about to rehash their conclusions. (Go read one of Rabbi Twerski's books, or Robert Short's famous "The Gospel According to Peanuts," instead.)
Suffice it to say that I relate to "Peanuts," and mainly to Charlie Brown, because I'm constantly having Charlie Brown moments. Yesterday in church, at a fairly sparsely attended service, the collection plate was making its rounds. The usher handed the plate to the woman at the end of the pew; instead of passing it to me, she handed it back to the usher, who handed it to me ...
... but I was reaching to her, and missed the plate, sending it crashing to the floor behind me. The usher and a woman sitting behind me were left scrabbling on the floor to pick up the money and collection envelopes (thank God there was no loose change) while I was left to watch them, helplessly. Worse yet, I was sitting near the front of the church, so everyone behind us had a great view of the action.
If that's not a Charlie Brown moment, I don't know what is. What else can you say in that case but "good grief"?
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In the news, and on a somber note: Tragedy marred the inaugural game of McKeesport's entry into the new American Basketball Association. With about eight minutes left to go at the Wunderley Gymnasium Friday night, and the Pennsylvania Pit Bulls up by 18 points, Head Coach Tom Washington collapsed on the court. He was pronounced dead a short time later at UPMC McKeesport hospital. Greg Kristen had the story in Saturday morning's Daily News. According to a follow-up in the Post-Gazette, an autopsy determined that Washington was suffering from heart disease.
The Pit Bulls stopped the Friday game and cancelled another matchup set for Saturday because of Washington's passing.
Nicknamed "Trooper," Washington was a graduate of Cheyney University and played in the original ABA with the Pittsburgh Pipers from 1967 to 1970, according to an ABA press kit. He leaves behind a wife and one daughter. Funeral arrangements are incomplete, according to the Philadelphia Daily News.
The Pit Bulls play their next two games at home on Thanksgiving weekend versus the Philadelphia Fusion. Details at ABAlive.com.
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Update: I don't know if we have any regular readers in Caketown, but there apparently have been some hinky dealings on the Mt. Lebanon School Board, and Professor Pittsblog is covering them like the dew. The school directors bought out the contract of the superintendent at a price of about a half-million dollars, with little or no discussion in public, and now the parents are steamed up. Good for them.
It's worth noting for readers in Our Fair City and the Mon-Yough metroplex that we had a similar situation not long ago, when the school board in South Allegheny bought out the contract of its superintendent for more than $325,000. The former SA superintendent has since turned around and applied for the same job in the McKeesport Area School District.
(Disclaimer: I'm treading on treacherous ice here, because I know many, many people in both school districts, including at least one school director; and a family member is a public schoolteacher. Let me just emphasize that any opinions are mine, and mine alone, and reflect only what I've read in the public prints, and should not be construed to represent anyone else's opinions.)
Considering that they're the taxing bodies responsible for the lion's share of local taxes that Pennsylvanians pay, school boards operate with a shocking lack of transparency, and most people pay little or no attention to what they do.
Issues like the firing of a school superintendent are handled behind closed doors; snooping reporters and prying citizens who question decisions are brushed off with the comment that it was a "personnel matter" --- a catch-all term that covers any issue that elected officials in Pennsylvania don't want to discuss.
More on that in a day or two, when I gather my thoughts; I just thought it was important to tip the Tube City Online hat to Pittsblog while the issues over there were still fresh.
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