Michael Machosky

6 days ago | pghcitypaper.com | Michael Machosky

So, what’s the hot new partisan divide to fight about? It’s NIMBY vs. YIMBY! That’s “Not In My Back Yard” versus “Yes, In My Back Yard,” for those of you with actual lives/hobbies/interests. Do I have to take a stance on this? Yes (because I can’t think of anything better to write about at this second).

1 week ago | pghcitypaper.com | Michael Machosky

The other day, a pop song from my childhood leapt into my brain as it spilled out of a passing car, and suddenly time reversed for a few seconds. It wasn’t even a song I really liked as a kid; it was simply part of the soundscape of daily life, like the symphony of crickets serenading a suburban dusk.

2 weeks ago | pghcitypaper.com | Michael Machosky

Here’s a weird thought — what if the Golden Age of living in Pittsburgh is right now? And what if it’s almost over? Long-time Pittsburghers are almost universally married to the idea that things were better in the past. But when, exactly? In the ‘40s, this was one of the most important cities in the world, crushing fascism beneath an avalanche of Pittsburgh steel. But the sky was so black with soot that streetlights Downtown stayed on all day, and the rivers were open sewers for industrial waste.

3 weeks ago | pghcitypaper.com | Michael Machosky

Pittsburgh added about 450 new residents between 2023 and 2024. While I’ve been in lines longer than that for hot dogs at PNC Park, those are pretty good numbers for Pittsburgh. With very few anomalous exceptions, Pittsburgh has been losing population for my entire lifetime, and quite a bit before that, as the dying steel industry bled out last century. Why do I think this is good news? Well, you’re either growing or you’re shrinking; there’s no secret third thing.

1 month ago | pghcitypaper.com | Michael Machosky

Signs of spring in Pittsburgh: Page’s Dairy Mart opening. The world learning the weird names of small Pittsburgh colleges, like Duquesne and Robert Morris, which somehow battled their way into March Madness. Callery/Bradford pear trees begin to bloom beautifully (and smell like wet dog). Weird, unfamiliar feelings of hope/optimism before a single game of Buccos baseball has been played. I like the winter, and the concept of four seasons, but wow, does it last about a month too long.