When I think of home, I think of a place
where's there's love overflowing
I wish I was home, I wish I was back there
With the things I've been knowing
Wind that makes the tall grass bend into leaning
Suddenly the raindrops that fall they have a meaning
Sprinklin' the scene
Makes it all clean (Home-Charlie Smalls)
Squirrel Hill has always been one degree of separation. Most likely, your grandparents knew the parents of your best friends, and your best friend’s brothers and sisters, cousins, aunts and uncles one time or another went to the same elementary school, high school, synagogue or Jewish Community Center as you. You would walk “up the street” in Squirrel Hill, the place where the corners of Forbes and Murray met, and suddenly you could feel the heartbeat of your neighborhood, thumping loudly, watching the various streams of life lead you to the tree-lined, streets and avenues, the mansions, the row houses, the family owned and operated marketplaces. In the old days the streetcars, the 61 numbered series were available to visit the museums, the movie theaters, but back then you would arrive back HOME. I had always wondered, even when it snowed often times during Halloween, or when the sorriest of 4th of July’s had you watching fireworks from inside your home, or the humidity of summer kept you sheets wet and watery at night, was everyone as lucky as those of us who lived in Squirrel Hill!
Suddenly my world's gone and change its fate
And I still know where I'm going
I have had my mind spun round in space
And watched it growing
And oh, if you're listening, God, please don't make it hard
To know if we should believe the things that we see
Tell us should we try and stay or should we run away (should we run away)
Or will it be better just to let things let them be, oh (Home-Charlie Smalls)
Squirrel Hill has always been one degree of separation. The lives, the joys, the celebrations all shared in the Jewish Chronicle. You knew the cool seniors graduating from Taylor Allderdice High School, even if you were just a lowly freshman. There was someone grandma or grandpa who needs a little help as they carried bags from the Giant Eagle. Squirrel Hill was my home growing up, and even at my age of 69, IS the place I am from. The eleven human beings, who aside from being Americans and who because they happened to be Jewish, all had some impact on my life, in Squirrel Hill. I have no correct words, but I am filled with so many emotions…When I think of HOME!
