Lower St. Clair doesn’t exist, except I live in it
Monday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This is the view I have enjoy driving towards the twice a week ‘PT’ or Physical Therapy appointments, as my broken ankle continues to heal.
It’s more or less at the border between a Pittsburgh community called ‘Mount Lebanon’ and another municipality called ‘Upper St. Clair.’ Both are fairly wealthy suburbs, and this photo was gathered at a point that’s about eight miles out from Downtown Pittsburgh. The ‘upper’ part of the town’s name made me curious, and I asked a few of the locals who are far more familiar with this area than I am. Their answer was always the same – there is no ‘Lower St. Clair,’ nor is there just an ordinary ‘St. Clair.’
Turns out that there actually used to be a Lower St. Clair, and that I actually live in it. Let me explain…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Other than using the Whiskey Rebellion breaking out in St. Clair back in 1794 as a historical benchmark, the earliest European footprints here (that were recorded into the historic record, at least) involve a fellow named John Fife. Mr. Fife established a homestead not too far from where today’s first shot was taken, back in 1762.
St. Clair, named for one of Washington’s Generals, divided itself over time and established an Upper (to the south) and a Lower Saint Clair, to the north. So… Lower St. Clair existed.
The latter or northern section of Lower St. Clair began to subdivide into local governance during the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and independent municipalities (including the City of Pittsburgh itself) began to absorb, annex, or otherwise appropriate the land. I’m led to understand that Banksville, Carnegie, Bloomfield, Beechview, and Dormont (where HQ is found) – amongst other towns and boroughs – were all created out of what was once Lower St. Clair, which itself no longer exists as a governmental entity.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This series of facts cut the legs off of a fiction story which I was fleshing out in my head while driving, one which would have made the case for a subterranean network of tunnels under Upper St. Clair, which would be colloquially referred to (in hushed whispers, of course) as Lower St. Clair. Fantasies of Morlocks danced in my head, and hatches hidden away in the suburban basements of tony Upper St. Clair. C’est la’vie, huh?
Back tomorrow with something different at this – your Newtown Pentacle.
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Hey now, a train’s a-coming…
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
So, this is how I wrapped up the first scuttle of the post broken ankle period, back at the brewery alongside CSX’s tracks in Pittsburgh’s South Side Flats neighborhood. I don’t have to wait long before the signal arms began chiming and CSX #7589 appeared.
My plan didn’t involve much more than grabbing a quick beer and then summoning a car to drive me back home. According to the not entirely accurate ‘health’ app on my phone, I had taken 7,742 steps since leaving the PT appointment, and then boarding a T light rail, which brought me to this area.
Not bad, really, and with all things considered.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The combination of the PT appointment and the walk had inflamed the ankle and the thing had swole up a bit. That’s normal, the surgeon tells me, and I can expect to be dealing with swelling after exercise for at least the next year. When the cab dropped me off at HQ, your humble narrator was absolutely spent. I oozed into my reclining La-Z-Boy style chair and just sat there moaning for about thirty minutes.
Eventually, I managed to unpeel the shoes off of my feet. When sleepy time arrived, I hit the pillows and was out for nine straight hours. Surprisingly, the next day I was pretty ok. Sore, but ok. Progress!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It’s going to take me a bit of time to get back to normal, that’s for sure. Rebuilding muscle and stretching out all of the internal rubber bands in the foot and ankle is not going to be fun, but pain is the oldest and best friend I have, after all. I can always count on pain, who never turns its back on me. Pain also doesn’t betray or gaslight, it’s loyal.
Pain is family.
Back next week with more tales from a broken and enfeebled man, and his busted ankle, at this – your Newtown Pentacle.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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Wearing the street cassock
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
During a painful and somewhat humbling scuttle around an industrial zone in Pittsburgh, I can happily report to you that I was wearing my filthy black raincoat again. The street cassock hasn’t been in heavy usage, for obvious reasons, and since I missed autumn (its season) entirely due to the broken ankle, when I started regularly leaving the house again I was wearing a Carhartt winter coat. It’s a big puffy warm thing, the Carhartt, with a hood and warm lining. Lots of secure pockets. Does the job.
I’ve missed the street cassock though. The puffy winter coat makes taking my big knap sack style camera bag on and off difficult and clumsy.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
While crossing under the Liberty Bridge, the ankle situation really began to degrade. My strides shortened, and by the time I shot the image above, I was walking like a penguin. The atrophy I’ve mentioned, in the upper thighs and hips, was manifesting itself. Lactic acid was everywhere in the roadway interface, from toes to butt. It’s going to take quite a while, I’m afraid, to get back to where I was and right now I’m stuck with being like most of you humans. Weak, unfocused, unable to move.
Cowed by distance, and hobbled by infirmity, I used to be strong.
This situation angered me, which was good as I needed the adrenaline to do my final push for the day. Remember, under normal circumstances I walk 20-30 miles a week, usually at an average speed of 2.5-3 mph.
On this day, a half mile walk took me an hour. Ugg.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I actually had to sit down and rest for a few minutes.
Me!
‘It’s all downhill from here,’ I reminded myself. A long block away sat that brewery by the railroad tracks which I frequent. I had missed getting shots of two trains during this walk, which annoyed the hell out of me, since under normal circumstance I’d have easily crossed the distance and gotten those shots.
Back tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
An agonizing scuttle
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Y’know what? A broken ankle really hurts, even four months later when you’re officially ‘on the mend.’ After getting off of the ‘T’ Light Rail, which I had ridden into town here in Pittsburgh after attending a ‘PT’ or Physical Therapy appointment nearby The T’s last stop, the ankle was definitively not happy. A weird clicking sensation was occurring on downsteps, and the muscular atrophy in my hips and upper thighs, caused by sitting in a wheelchair for two months, made itself known.
I walked half way out onto the Smithfield Street Bridge, which I had intended to cross from the other side of the river, but every step became an act of will to complete and I had debarked the T a stop earlier than my planned location.
This experience reminded me of the first time I walked to Dutch Kills from Astoria back when I first started getting interested in Newtown Creek after the cardiac incident almost twenty years ago. I was using a cane in those days, and the two and change miles walk to the waterway exhausted my reserves and it took me a couple of hours. It was a long walk, back then.
A couple of years later and this became a half hour to 45 minute walk, from Astoria to my beloved creek. You gotta just suck it up, sometimes, knowing that payoff is coming down the line. Push! Lean into it!
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My destination and reward for all this effort were about a half mile (or a little more) away from this spot. Normal circumstances would describe the following path as a 15 minute walk. It took me an hour. Luckily, one of my favorite podcasters – Dan Carlin – had just released a ‘Hardcore History Addendum’ broadcast featuring an interview with journalist Zeinab Badawi discussing the African Kingdom of Kush. (Spotify link). Worth a listen, and it’s a subject seldom discussed.
It was about 5 p.m. when I was walking around, a pretty busy interval in Pittsburgh as everybody is moving around and going from one place to another. Auto traffic is pretty heavy, and what they call ‘rush hour’ occurs. As a former New Yorker… it’s not heavy highway traffic if it’s moving at 35 mph. Hell, it’s not heavy traffic unless you put your car in park on the BQE and lie out on the car’s hood to work on your tan while waiting for things to loosen up.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As mentioned in the past, I’m goofy for funiculars, so when I saw the incline moving around on snow covered tracks, I couldn’t resist. The fact that I got to stand still for a couple of minutes didn’t hurt either.
I still had the better part of a mile ahead of me, so I leaned into the walk and got moving. Unfortunately, and this wasn’t intentional, my stride length had diminished seriously at this point. I found myself walking like a penguin, with short steps and swinging my hips around more than my legs. Doesn’t matter, said a humble narrator out loud, got to keep moving. If you stop moving, you die.
You have no idea how horrible it is to have ‘me’ inside of my head. I’m tougher intellectually than I am physically, and I’m often a real dick towards myself.
Back tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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Silver, blue, or red?
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As described yesterday, your humble narrator attended a ‘PT’ or Physical Therapy appointment to facilitate the continuing medical recovery period after breaking my ankle back in September.
This week’s photos were captured during an actual photowalk, which is the first true scuttle I’ve taken in four months. After my assignation with the PT people, during which I was put through several paces, one limped over to the T light rail stop and headed into town. Along the way, I was shooting out of the windows on the light rail, as it was an unfamiliar line. I normally use the Red Line service, and I think that I was riding on the Silver Line but I’m not entirely sure. From where I boarded, nearby one of the service’s terminal yards, it could be any of them, and since they all go to where I planned on debarking – win.
A few disturbing things began to occur on the earliest part of the scuttle, notably a clicking sensation in the bad ankle, when transiting through a stride. It didn’t hurt, at first, but the sensation was disconcerting and persistent. I also noticed that the length of my stride had noticeably shortened. Normal, for me, is each step spans a sidewalk box line on every step.
By the time my day ended, it was three steps for every sidewalk box and the last mile took me 45 minutes to walk.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’ve frequently driven through the section of Pittsburgh that this T line travels along, and that’s Saw Mill Run/Route 51 pictured above, as seen from the altitude of the cantilevered tracks that the T rides on in this section.
$3, if you’re curious. That’s the fare. I’m thinking that at some point in the next few weeks I might just buy a ‘hop on/hop off’ (about $20, if memory serves) day pass to the T and spend some time at these elevated stations with a zoom lens. It’s neat, along this corridor.
The ankle was singing its song by this point. I’m normally quite sore after the PT sessions, and that was a consideration when I had resolved to ‘walk three miles’ on this particular day. It ended up being just under four miles, but that’s a subject for subsequent posts to explore.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
My original plan was to take the T to the other side of the Monongahela River and walk back across on the Smithfield Street Bridge prior to heading down towards a nearby set of rail tracks, but amendment occurred due to the ankle’s operatics, and I shaved a mile off the walk by debarking the T at the Station Square stop instead.
It was in the high thirties, temperature wise, and two weeks worth of snow and ice were releasing away from the ground. It wasn’t icy, but it was wet, and as I keep on reminding myself that ‘discretion is the better part of valor’ and to error on the side of caution as I get back to speed.
Scuttle. Ow! Scuttle, ow! Ow! Ow! It was like that.
Back tomorrow.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Buy a book!
“In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.
The Newtown Pentacle 