Venturing Out Into the Brave New (Green) World. June 18, 2020

 Copyright © 2020                               John F. Oyler 

 June 18, 2020

Venturing Out Into the Brave New (Green) World

 

I have been self-isolated for eleven weeks, probably over-reacting to the Covis 19 pandemic. My children are over protective and keenly aware of my fragility. And I must agree that the fact that about one fourth of the octogenarians who have been infected have died. Consequently I have stayed close to home all this time.

 

I am writing this on June 6, which is the second day Allegheny County has been promoted from “yellow” to “green” in the gradual transition back to something closer to normal. Two weeks ago my daughter Elizabeth, who has carried the brunt of supplying me with groceries, allowed me to run with her when she took my car to the gas station for a fill-up.

 

The following week I gathered my courage and drove my car around a very long block in our neighborhood. I must admit I was a little apprehensive and was happy to get back home safely. Since then we have had a trip to the local garden center to purchase flowers which we then planted in the cemetery at my wife’s headstone. Two days later I returned alone to the cemetery to water the plants, building up my confidence.

 

Much more ambitious was the decision to drive to Elizabeth’s home in Sewickley Heights for a socially distanced dinner outside on their deck. This is a trip I have made in the past at least once a week; this time it loomed as a major excursion. I was extremely curious about seeing how things had changed during my absence from driving.

 

To my usual check list I added my mask, just in case I ran into trouble during the drive. Cautiously I eased my way out of our neighborhood and onto the network of main streets in our community. Despite it being a lovely weekend afternoon the number of people on the street was surprisingly low. Also surprising was the absence of masks.

 

I carefully checked the prices at the gas stations I passed and confirmed that the price of gasoline had indeed dropped, in response to the major decrease in driving during the red and yellow phases of our “lockdown”. It didn’t really seem to me that the traffic was much lighter than usual, but I decided to reserve judgment on that until I reached the Sewickley Bridge, a consistent bottleneck in normal times.

 

For many years there has been a sign at the Carnegie entry onto the Parkway West reporting that a specific family, whose name I have forgotten, was taking care of litter at the interchange, in memory of their matriarch. I have missed the disappearance of the sign, but it certainly is obvious that no one is picking up trash there these days.

 

Onto the Parkway and immediately it is obvious that I am driving much too slowly to suit the other drivers. I realized this when a car zipped in front of me as I entered the one lane ramp onto I-79. I resolved to change my ways and speed up a little.

 

At about this time I decided that I should turn on the air conditioning in the car, for the first time this year. I seldom use it, preferring to drive with the windows open. However it had been important to my wife – she actually forced me to junk one of cars when its air conditioning failed.

 

I rolled up the windows, turned on the fan, adjusted both dials from red (hot) to blue (cold), and waited for the air on my face to get cool. When nothing happened I began to mentally diagnose the problem. Maybe the coolant level has gone done significantly in the months the car hasn’t been run – better ask Mike to check it when I get to Beth’s house.

 

Suddenly I had a déjà vu moment; didn’t I go through this same experience last Spring? Hadn’t I failed to push the air conditioning dial in till the light came on? The answer, of course, was that this was one more symptom of rampant Alzheimer’s. Ah well, better than ever.

 

The large S curve at the bottom of the hill where I-79 approaches the Ohio River is one of my favorites spots, particularly once the trees are in bloom. In this stretch the northbound and southbound lanes are at different elevations and quite a distance apart. The row of trees in this separation space is quite a distance from the trees beyond the opposite lane.

 

Add to this the fact that the sharp curves create the impression that the two rows of trees appear to be moving relative to each other, and one is immediately struck by the phenomenon of depth perception. Invariably I temporarily close one eye, to confirm the wonder of stereoscopy. If only I could find a way to replicate it in my landscape sketches!

 

In 2001 the State passed legislation naming the I-79 bridge across the Ohio River as the “Pittsburgh Naval and Shipbuilders Memorial Bridge, recognizing the contribution by the Dravo shipyard on Neville Island and the American Bridge facility in Ambridge during World War II. I immediately initiated a campaign to start calling it the “Shipbuilders Bridge”, a campaign that has failed.

 

For years there has been a sign on the south side of the river recording this designation; last summer it disappeared. I had hoped something had happened in the months since I drove through here, but it still is among the missing. Guess I must begin a campaign to investigate its absence.

 

I am preparing this column on the seventy-sixth anniversary of D-Day. One of the key components in that invasion was the LST, officially “Landing Ship, Tank”. One hundred and forty-four LSTs participated in D-Day; the actually date of the invasion was determined partially by the Allies’ ability to assemble that many LSTs.

 

Over one thousand LSTs were manufactured during World War II. Dravo’s shipyard was the lead yard for the program, producing LSTs number 1 through 150. This is a heritage that deserves to be remembered.

 

Across the Shipbuilders’ Bridge and off its ramp onto Ohio River Boulevard. The traffic still seemed to be nearly normal, but once I reached the Sewickley Bridge I realized that wasn’t the case. Usually there are several dozen cars backed up there, waiting to cross the bridge. Not so this time, and the same was true on my return trip later that evening.

 

Past Quaker Village shopping center where there were fewer cars than normal in the parking lot, up Ferry to Beaver, then finally onto Camp Meeting Road and its hairpin turns, and into Beth’s driveway. I am relieved that I have managed to navigate my way through this new environment and that it really hasn’t changed that much.