Thursday, November 01, 2001 5:46:19 PM
The Devil on Nadine Road.
I lived, as a child, and a cute child I was, pictures on the pony to prove it, in the ethnically Italian section of Pittsburgh called East Liberty. An even tighter grid on the map will reveal the name Larimar Avenue and down about a block from the intersection of Carver Street; past the alley that led over to Meadow Street was my paternal house where we lived when I was in the early formative years. Three until I was about eight years old. We thereafter became the first of a growing migration to the suburbs, where I live to this very day deep in the basement, writing.
I am glib with the names of these streets though some have since passed on to historical atlas and most are part of a severely troubled neighborhood, because they are the essence of legend to my family. At re-unions, at least until the older generation passes entirely, they are whispered with reverence and also the butts of many a bawdy joke. I lived on those streets for a very short period of time, but they resonate in me and I feel that I have to make some effort to keep the stories alive.
My formative brain sat on the corner of Carver and Lenora with a group of equally formative brains. Yes, we believed that dinosaurs still ruled the earth. Hadn't we seen the fossil evidence when we removed a dead decayed leaf from the ground, which clearly showed the form of a Tyrannosaurus Rex? Hadn't we all barely escaped from the haunted house on the hill across Negley Run? Didn't the Chinaman at the laundry on the way to East Liberty chase us with his butcher knife as we ran past his business and chanted Ching Ching Chinaman?
It came as no surprise when a group of elder toughs, I mean guys, who fought Golden Gloves up at the Red Eagle, told us what had happened the night before. They were just taking a drive out in the country. Out Allegheny River Boulevard. Just checking things out. They turned onto Nadine Road. About half way up in the hill, when they were immersed in the dark forest, the devil jumped out on the road! With a red skin, a forked tongue and even worse a pitch fork in his hands. The car stopped dead. The devil leered and dared them forward. Those hard inner city guys were terrified!
"Whad' ya do?"
What could they do? They backed the car up, turned around a got the hell out of there. They vowed that they would never return to Nadine Road. And for all I know they never did.
I travel Nadine Road almost every day. And every time I climb the hill up from Allegheny River Boulevard to Lincoln Road, I look out for the devil. Especially late at night. Satan never shows and I wonder what it could have possibly been that they saw? It wasn't Halloween; it was the summer of the year. The shade of Grant Wood's canvas? An Apparition from a can of spiced ham? Catholic neurosis?
I am haunted, as we all are, by all manner of demons. Some harder to vanquish than others. I kinda look for a battle with Old Beelzebub on the curve of the road midway between this life and the next. 'C'mon, make my day,' I'll say as I advance, ' and put down that damn pitchfork!' 'Hey how about a game of chess?'