CMI 2020 Annual Report

McKeesport Community Newsroom
Corona diaries keep Tube
City Writers connected
McKeesport Community Newsroom
Waiting for pandemic’s
end for reconnection
Read personal stories and insightful
perspectives in The Corona Diaries, an ongoing
collection of first-person experiences
from Tube City Writers and images from the
Mon Valley Photography Collective during
the time of the pandemic.
Both are programs of the McKeesport
Community Newsroom, an initiative of
the Center for Media Innovation, which supports
citizen journalism and storytelling
by residents of the Mon Valley’s largest city
and surrounding areas.
“Perhaps we will come out of this crisis as
better and more creative not in spite of the
constraints we’ve been subjected to, but
because of them.” – Jim Busch, Tube City
Writers
Pandemic isolation
makes me miss friends
By Jaydan Keys, 14 years old
Editor’s note: Youth CAST students share
some thoughts about how the pandemic has
affected their lives. These students developed
this writing through the weekly workshop
Wednesdays with Matt Petras.
W hen the virus calms down the
first thing I would do is hang out with friends.
That is because hanging out with your friends
is better than just playing video games online
with them. Also, they’re going to put the
hoops back up so everyone will be at the
courts. Lastly, the football field will open
back up so I can play football there with my
friends. That’s one thing I would do when the
Photo by Vickie Babyak
Another thing I would do is lift and workout.
This is because football season is around
the corner and I need to stay strong for the
season. In 9th grade, there’s no weight limit
so I can not be weak for the season. Also, that
is when recruits start looking at highschool
players so everyone will go 100%. So, that’s
what I would do after this pandemic.
This virus has stopped me from making plans
with friends, so FaceTiming them and playing
video games with them makes the day go
faster. Usually, I’ll be up until 5:00 am talking
to them on the phone. Before this was going
on, I would go to sleep at 12 am. Now, I go to
sleep at different times every day.
Also, it postponed the football season so
it’s gonna be a long time until I practice with
my teammates. So I’ll start using my speed
check. Also I play on the defensive line so when
I walk around the house I’ll do moves when I
go around objects just to practice my skill set.
That’s how this pandemic is affecting me.
Since I was little football was my life. I knew
when I was around 10 years old I wanted to be
in the NFL some day. I’ve played the offensive
line all of my life so I am more than experienced
at that position. I’ve went to camps in the past.
For example, I went to NFL Star Aaron Donald‘s
camp last summer in Penn Hills. That’s how the
coronavirus has taken away something I love
doing which is playing football.
This virus has not really affected my mom. The
only thing she couldn’t do now is shop at the
mall. We still shop online. Also, she works at
home so she’s still comfortable. The most uncomfortable
thing for her is when she shops with
a lot of people in the store. That’s how the virus
By Jim Busch, 67 years old
Editor’s note: Freelance writer Jim Busch
participates in the Tube City Writers group
Today, I took my wife to see her
chemotherapy doctor at Allegheny General
Hospital. In normal pre-Covid times, I would
have gone in with her to see the doctor. The
worst case scenario is that I would have been
relegated to the waiting room while she had
her appointment. With the lockdown, only
patients are allowed beyond the hospital
doors. I had to sit in our car and wait for her to
come out.
There are a row of spaces in Allegheny General’s
James Street parking garage reserved
for the hospital’s cancer center. I parked there
and watched my wife disappear into the
bowels of AGH. Sitting in my car, I noticed that
I wasn’t alone in the “wait and worry” section
of the garage. Since patients undergoing
chemo are not in any condition to operate
a motor vehicle, all patients need someone
to drive them to their treatments. Like me,
none of the other drivers were allowed into
the hospital, so we all sat there in our Chevys,
Toyotas and Subarus. We listened to our
radios, played with our phones and stared
into space.
I read the book I had brought along for the
purpose and started to think about my fellow
ladies and gentlemen in waiting. I was there
for a while, so I got to see the special parking
spaces change hands. I saw people come and
go as they went in for treatment and come
back afterwards. I paid attention to the wistful
looks on the drivers’ faces as they were
left alone.
It was clear that they wanted to be with their
loved ones instead of being forced to wait
in the concrete catacomb of the parking
garage. When their passengers returned from
their treatments, sometimes on their own
power, sometimes in a wheelchair, the look of
concern on their faces was heart wrenching.
Though they tried to manufacture a reassuring
smile, their distress showed through this
mask like a silhouette on a backlit window
The car next to me was driven by an older
man wearing a red Make America Great Again
hat. He made no attempt to amuse himself
and just sat their staring at the wall with a
scowl on his unshaven face. In the space to
my left, was a middle aged African American
lady wearing a stylish animal print jacket and
reading a magazine.
After a short while, a nurse rolled a wheelchair
up to her car. For some reason I had
expected her “patient” to be male, probably
her husband, but I was wrong. The attendant
was pushing a younger woman who looked
much like the woman behind the wheel of the
waiting car. The woman in the wheelchair was
probably her daughter, which added poignancy
to the scene.
In short order, her parking slot was occupied
by an older couple who kissed before she
opened the door and got out of the car. The
old gentleman watched his wife as she made
her way to the hospital with faltering steps,
silver cane in hand.
A few months before, we all would have been
herded into a waiting room and supplied with
piles of old magazines with the addresses
ripped off the cover for our entertainment.
For a while, we would have listened to the
TV news channel on the television hanging
from the wall trying to escape the inescapable
boredom.
At this point, I would find an excuse to strike
up a conversation with someone. I would
comment on something on the TV or make a
joke about the vintage magazine selection.
Perhaps, I would complement something the
person was wearing. Anything to open the
door to conversation, to find a way to connect
with them.
There is a reason that a certain type of person
chooses a career that requires them to constantly
talk to strangers. I’ve always maintained
that the best salespeople were the worst
children. We are the grownups that bad little
children grow up to be. We are the ones who
didn’t listen to our mothers when they told
us to be quiet, not to ask too many questions
I think I was a good salesperson because I’ve
always been curious about other people. I want
to pop open the hood and see what’s going on
inside their heads. The best way to do this is to
ignore my mother’s warnings, talk to strangers
and ask about their lives.
Some of the most interesting conversations I
have had in my life have been with perfect strangers.
The janitor who was cleaning my office who
told me about being one of Merrill’s Marauders in
World War lI Burma.
The upholstery shop owner who explained how
he wound up on a Georgia chain gang when he
was 16 years old, because he trusted his ne’erdo-well
older brother. The Indiana store clerk
who was James Dean’s prom date and had the
pictures to prove it.
I believe that the greatest compliment that you
can pay anyone is to really listen to them, to give
them space to tell their story. Thomas Jefferson
said, “The man who is universally interested, will
be universally interesting.” Because I am interested
in the stories of everyone I meet, people are
eager to share their stories with me.
For the last several months, social distancing
has robbed me of the opportunity to talk with
strangers. Usually, I get to talk to people when I’m
waiting in line, in a restaurant, and folks I meet
on my walks. Since museum and library patrons
are generally articulate and intelligent, I have
always enjoyed wonderful conversations in these
venues.
Not long before the shutdown, I was at the Hunt
Institute for Botanical Documentation at Carnegie
Mellon University, I told a fellow visitor how
much I liked a particular work. To my surprise,
she thanked me. It turned out that she was the
Brazilian artist who had painted the work I admired.
She went on to tell me about her work and
life as a botanist in the Amazon rainforest. Sorry,
mom, talking to strangers is cool!
I could use a haircut and I would love to wolf
down a piping hot plate of Rey Azteca’s cheese
enchiladas, but what I really hunger for is human
connection. My soul longs for human connection
and my mind craves a new supply of stories.
I can’t wait for this quarantine to end. I want to
disappoint my mom again by talking to lots of
virus calms down.
16 ladder at my house to keep my footwork in affects my mother.
blind. I knew how they felt.
and especially, “Don’t talk to strangers.” strangers and asking them lots of questions.
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