Pictured is a photograph of Henry L. Beitzel, my grandfather, mugging for the camera sometime in 1985. One of his favorite hobbies was eavesdropping on Pittsburgh law enforcement by way of his police scanner. That year for his birthday my parents upgraded his technology. My sister’s recollection of this photograph is that Pop (what we called my grandfather) was being a goof. He’s sitting in the apartment where my grandparents lived in Oakland, near the University of Pittsburgh. They moved there after living with us in a duplex in Princeton Park (Wilkinsburg) for most of my childhood.
When my grandparents first moved to their apartment, the building had more families and elderly couples. Soon after, however, the landlord started leasing to more and more college kids, which did not please my grandmother. One of my best memories from this time was going to Duranti’s to eat lunch. It was located a block down the street from their apartment and my grandmother usually took us. Not sure where my grandfather was at those times. I remember Duranti’s vividly because it had a faded air of sophistication. The architecture and decor was from the 1960s, at the peak of mid-century modern design aesthetics.
Primarily, it was an important place to me because they sold hand-spun milkshakes, and always brought the metal cup with the extra shake that didn’t fit in the glass. I usually ate a club sandwich, a dietary staple of mine throughout the Reagan years.
I am a writer and journalist from Western Pennsylvania. I've written essays, many about class and culture, for Guernica, Oxford American, and The Rumpus, and my reporting has appeared in the Atlantic, Esquire, Forbes, and Spin.
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