St. Mary's Cemetery

On an unseasonably warm fall afternoon, I took a walk through St. Mary Cemetery in the Bloomfield neighborhood of Pittsburgh. It is one of the Catholic cemeteries in Pittsburgh, having been purchased in 1848 after St. Patrick's and St. Paul's Churches' burial grounds filled up. Those bodies were eventually moved to these 44 acres of lawn and gentle hills right next door to the new Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh, which opened in 2008. (The red brick behind this brilliant yellow linden tree is the back wall of the faculty building across the street from the main hospital building.)

The Burke family--father Michael (1847-1910), mother Bridget (184701927), son John (1873-1902), and daughters Mary (1878-1881) and Mary (1887-1888)--are interred on a hillside that appears to be eroding. You can see the garage where I used to park as a resident in the background.

There are grand mausoleums like this one, to the Vilsack family, as well as headstones that have fallen over and sunk into the ground (below left). There were not many Eastern European names that I could find; they were mostly Irish, with some Italian ones noticeable. Some of the Irish markers note the county in Ireland in which the deceased had been born before they emigrated to the United States.

I saw two of these textured crosses (middle), in different parts of the cemetery. More recent gravestones sometimes have portraits, and St. Jude here appears to have a cowlick. Or maybe a tongue of fire.

There's a whole section on a hill for priests, pictured above, with big beautiful headstones. This big one is for the Reverend Charles S. Maguire, born in Ireland in 1768 and immigrated to Pittsburgh to serve as pastor of Old St. Patrick's Church in April 1820. He then founded St. Paul's Church (now Cathedral) in 1829 and served until his death in 1833. In a different, flat section of the cemetery are the graves of the Little Sisters of the Poor. The crosses have mostly (been) broken off the older headstones. The newer deaths are marked on a large granite stone.

I don't have pictures, but I did notice some interesting punctuation: Mary. Elizabeth. The periods marked the sudden ends of their short lives (I believe they were children when they died). Then there was "Our darling May / May Singer died Mar. 31, 1891 in her 12, year." Her parents outlived her by 30 years.

The headstone below had a lot of history on it: In addition to the IHS Christian cross on the top and "U.S.N." in relief, it reads: "Frances P. DeLowry / born Apr. 1, 1893 / enlisted in U.S. Navy Oct. 19, 1910 / killed in battle / at Vera Cruz, Mexico / Apr 22, 1914." Below that must be a brother who not only served but survived two tours of duty: "Richard J. DeLowry / Oct. 26, 1896 / Aug. 10, 1973 / W.W.I Navy--W.W.II Army."

This is clearly still an active cemetery, as you can see by the big new stones above. Sometimes the style or condition of the marker is newer than I would expect from the dates, or there are flowers or other mementoes for someone it is unlikely to still be remembered, such as the marker on the left: "Wife and children / Ellie G. / wife of Michael Sisk. / died March 14, 1881; / aged 23 yrs. & 4 mos. / eternal rest grant her Lord." The Gothic tower on the right is damaged but still interesting.

It was a pleasant walk that didn't afford much aerobic exercise, as I kept getting distracted to investigate the grave markers rather than keep moving to get my heartrate up. Another day I will come back to explore Allegheny Cemetery next door.

Where I'm From

I am from the sandbox next to the lilac bush,

from hot pavement under foot

and cold water from the sprinkler.

I am from the bottle rocket brigade

and an aluminum fishing boat, the red hymnal

and poker only on vacation.

I am from 1066

and raspberry bushes behind the farmhouse.

I am from Andes mints and Uncle Dana's stuffing,

Thin Mints, and peanut butter, and snowballs with marshmallow.

I am from Easter photos in front of the azaleas,

nose in books, and grips, and midnight chess.

I am from Hradovice-Strimelice and Veselé Vánoce

and developed Heimweh in high school.

We play Trivial Pursuit on New Year's Eve.

N'zdar, y'all!

This is a poem I wrote during a class with medical students modeled on George Ella Lyon's poem "Where I'm From."

The Great American Relay

Thanks to the pandemic, there are no marathons or other running races happening. Then Dear Husband stumbled across the Great American Relay. It is a partnership between the Boston Running Club and the American Association for Cancer Research with 379 stages between Boston and Los Angeles over 36 consecutive days. Because this is a topic that affects DH personally, and because he has missed the chance to do any competitive running this year, he invited our church's new pastor to join him. The legs close to Pittsburgh were already subscribed, so he signed them up for an 8-mile stretch an hour east of here in the Laurel Highlands.

Luckily, I did not have clinical responsibilities on that day, so I drove the two of us out there. It was a beautiful day for a drive sunny. I just wish there had not been a pandemic, so we could have explored the cute little towns of or Ebensburg. As it was, I dropped DH off at the Sheetz, where he met up with the race organizer, Vince, and his running partner. This is the starting line. They set off along the county route, and I drove to the local public library, where I had quiet and free internet to chart review on my patients for the week. I wished I could have visited the local historical society.

On my way to the exchange point, I drove past Ebensburg's war memorial, the namesake of the park in which he would be handing the baton off to the next runner. It was originally planned in 1912, then dedicated in 1915. There are 5,500 names of wartime veterans from Cambria County. A time capsule was buried in 1975, and the park was rededicated in 2011 to veterans in peacetime, too. You can see some pictures here. 

Unfortunately, they made excellent time AND I took a wrong turn getting back, missing the triumphal arrival and baton exchange. Luckily Vince and the guys got some photos; here is a backlit one of them at the parks sign. Unfortunately, DH had wrenched his ankle after stepping into a hole while running on the berm. This made the run less satisfying for him then it might have been, because it kept him off his feet for several weeks afterward. However, he was able to follow the progress of the other relay runners on Facebook.

The last leg ended yesterday with a dip in the Pacific Ocean. We feel sympatico with the final runners, as we visited the Santa Monica Pier in the last week or so before everything shut down for COVID-19. Here are some photos from our spring break trip.

The Hike to Nowhere

Dear Husband and I wanted to get out of town for a weekend hike to catch the changing foliage. A friend from church recommended the Roaring Run Natural Area, an easy hour's drive east in the Laurel Highlands. We invited one of my colleagues, her spouse, and their dog, for an afternoon in the woods. I plotted a ~6-mile route that would take us across and up the gorge--from which we were promised spectacular views--then along the top and gently down to the streambed for a level walk back to our cars. While the weather could not have been nicer (60 degrees and sunny), the scramble up the slope on leaf-covered tippy rocks in face masks was a little more than we had bargained for. And the "vistas" never materialized--perhaps because the leaves were still on the trees? But we had come for the foliage anyway. (I used a filter on this image, but there really were "Starburst" colors on the trees.) 

DH: How far is it?

Me: We're almost to the top.

DH: Why, can you see snow?

On our first snack break, DH asked me whether I had brought the folding spade with which to bury his body, after he expired from exhaustion. No, I said, I was planning on a natural burial under a layer of loam, leaves, and twigs. In which case, he reminded me to remove his sweater, as the polyester fibers would never break down.

Unfortunately, the train really went off the rails as we tried to change from one trail to the other. Neither the map nor the signs/blazes were particularly clear, and the people we asked for directions were either lost themselves or thought they knew but weren't sure whether the connector we wanted was still being maintained. We finally gave up after walking resolutely east and farther from our cars. At the time we should have been arriving back at the parking lot, tired but happy, we turned around and retraced our steps, including scrambling down the steep slope again. Thankfully, we had all brought snacks and water, worn our hiking shoes, and had good attitudes. The light held out, and everybody got home safely. (Including the 4 ticks we found among us!)

Heard on the trail: a woodpecker and something that snuffles (a Heffalump, maybe?)

Seen on the trail: a chipmunk, a cardinal, a deer, a pair of satin undies, and an Ebenezer

On our way into the woods, we had passed a pile of flat stones that someone, probably a child, had made into a house. "Oh dear, I thought. What if that family drove all the way out here, and then the kid had a melt down and wouldn't walk any farther and was placated by stopping and being allowed to build this before they left?" (We hid a baggie of dog poop near it, so it was an important landmark.) I planned to take a photo of it on the second leg of our journey, but it was gone--or rather, had collapsed or been knocked over. While the dog poop was retrieved, I rebuilt it, our Ebenezer, a sign that we had gone out and come back. It reminded us of the hymn that Baptist minister Robert Robinson (1735–1790) had composed at the tender age of 22.

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing,
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace;
Streams of mercy, never ceasing,
Call for songs of loudest praise.
Teach me some melodious sonnet,
Sung by flaming tongues above.
Praise the mount, I’m fixed upon it,
Mount of Thy redeeming love.

Sorrowing I shall be in spirit,
Till released from flesh and sin,
Yet from what I do inherit,
Here Thy praises I'll begin;
Here I raise my Ebenezer;
Here by Thy great help I’ve come;
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure,
Safely to arrive at home.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

"Ebenezer" comes from the Hebrew ebhen hā-ʽezer, or "stone of help." Robinson used this verse about the Israelites fighting the Philistines:

Samuel took a stone and set it up between Mizpah and Shen and called its name Ebenezer; for he said, “Till now the Lord has helped us.” So the Philistines were subdued and did not again enter the territory of Israel. And the hand of the Lord was against the Philistines all the days of Samuel. ~1 Samuel 7:12–13

While we wandered, no blood sacrifice was necessary to bring us back to the fold. The ticks, too, were vanquished, and the blister I was sure had developed on my right insole never materialized. We are all at least a little sore today, but our spirits remain unconquered. I sent an email to the Park Service asking them to improve their signage, and next time we'll try a less ambitious hike, maybe just going out and back along the creek, which should be roaring in the spring, after the snow melts.

"Miracle" Soup Tastes Better Than It Looks

Friend R.E. shared this recipe for "Miracle Cauliflower Soup" on Facebook, and I decided to use her lazy bookmark as inspiration for dinner and a week of leftovers for lunch. Here's the FrDrDr version:

1. Send Dear Husband to the grocery store for supplies, namely a head of cabbage, a head of cauliflower, and enough boxed low-sodium chicken broth to juuust cover 20 cups (!) of vegetables.

2. Contemplate how different the final product would taste with the red cabbage DH brought home. (Apparently he initially picked out a green cabbage, then changed his mind AND PUT IT BACK to get a red one, and forgot that he had a communication device in his pocket with which he could have asked me what I needed.)

3. Go to the co-op for the first time since the pandemic started. Score a decent-sized green cabbage but get somewhat lost because the bulk-goods section has been rearranged.

4. Choose your cooking movie: Disney's The Princess and the Frog.

5. Chop the cauliflower: 4 cups. Chop half the cabbage: 5 cups. That math isn't even close.

6. Chop some garlic with which to saute the veggies. Remember that you don't have sesame oil like the one reviewer recommended, and that you will be flavoring the soup with the broth anyway.

7. Bring all the veggies and 2 boxes of broth to a boil, then reduce to simmer for an hour.

8. Look up Rotkohl recipes. Decide to make Asian chicken and cabbage salad with the rest of the cabbage.

9. Turn of the soup to cool while you have a Zoom meeting with an undergraduate student who thinks he wants to become a Herr Doktor Doctor in history of medicine.

10. Blend the soup in batches with the rest of a tub of blue cheese. Season with black pepper. Save 1/3 for dinner the next night and freeze 2/3 for later/lunches.

11. DH was pleasantly surprised by the result and told me I could serve him cabbage and cauliflower like this any time I wanted--it's a miracle!

P.S.--DH made it up to me by bringing home this adorably round little pumpkin AND a bag of candy pumpkins. Pumpkin earrings were made by my friend J.R.

Having a "Saturday"

When I showed up for an extra shift at work one morning and was assured they didn't need me, it was perfect timing to stop by the fancy bakery on my way home for second breakfast. Having just opened, it smelled heavenly inside. I opted for three pastries: a croissant aux amandes for me, a panier framboise for Dear Husband, and an extra pain au chocolat. The first two looked delightful (below) and were good to eat, but to be truthful, they tasted less than fresh. 

DH went off to church to practice, and I decided to study with my suddenly free morning. This was a relief after having spent the prior weekend "in" a conference. After lunch, I continued my "Saturday" with a couple household chores, such as reattaching the hinge to the cupboard island that had come completely off when I opened it to feed the cat that morning. This involved texting my dad for advice (a home repair consult, if you will), match sticks, wood glue, and a power drill. Success!

Then, because the weather was absolutely gorgeous, DH and I took a long walk through Frick Park. You can see how sunny it was by our squinty expressions in front of the tree that is changing colors behind our apartment. The fall colors have not really set in yet, but the foliage is still full. It was a restful backdrop for a prolonged discussion of our finances and the hope that we can afford to purchase a house in the spring. 

Everyone's experience of the pandemic will be different, of course, but one of the things I will remember most will be the long walks up and down those tree-covered hills. The green space in Pittsburgh really is one of its greatest assets. 

There was a lot of wildlife, even in the middle of the afternoon. In addition to the usual squirrels and chipmunks, a lithe garter snake slithered right in front of my feet and into the underbrush. We thought there were quite a lot of people around for him to be out and about--and he probably felt the same way! On our way home, we came across the mowing and pruning goats.

Then it was time to decorate the front porch for Halloween. Nothing ambitious, just some bones in the garden, a skull on the railing, some fake cobwebs with a large dangling spider, and the piece de resistance: a string of monster eyes that light up. Halloween is on a Saturday this year, and I am no longer seeing children in clinic, so I have to decide whether to dress up this year. If I do decide to wear something punny, now taking ideas!

Conferencing in the Time of COVID

 

'Tis the season for conferences. They're pretty much all online these days, which is how I was able to attend the "Navigating Pediatrics to Adult Health Care: Lost in Transition Workshop" "at" the National Institutes of Health in Bethesda, MD. While the speakers talked about urological care of individuals with spina bifida and attempts to improve medication compliance among young adults with sickle cell anemia through apps, I darned the heels of three socks for me and patched two pants pockets for Dear Husband. If idle hands are "the Devil's," I rather suspect that keeping mine busy while I listened prevented me from "multitasking" by checking email or Facebook.