Gregg Behr: The Stories We Tell Ourselves

Remember when President Reagan declared it to be morning in America?  Well, it's morning in Pittsburgh.

Each day, as daylight appears, the morning sunrise casts its glow upon a city and a region that others -- outside Pittsburgh -- have declared to be among the most artistic, most literary, most recreational, most family-friendly, most civically-engaged...anywhere.  It's celebrated for its unlike-anywhere-else neighborhoods and towns; for its world-class universities and medical centers; for its historical spots as well as cutting-edge industries; for its not-to-be-surpassed entrance and vistas.  Like rivers, the accolades have streamed down upon our fair corner of this world, peaking with the world-renowned Economist and time-tested Places Rated Almanac declaring Pittsburgh to be tops among America's most livable cities.

So, why do so many local leaders, pundits, and publications continue to tell or remind us about all that is wrong?  That ours is a place once called "hell with a lid off?"  Or that Pittsburgh is somehow mired in self-doubt?  Why lead with such a reminder?  Why promulgate such a myth?

It's discouraging, even demoralizing, to live in a place where people -- even good, well-intentioned people -- repeat again and again (and sometimes actually joke) that ours is a place marked by economic downturn, dislocation, and discouragement.  Really?

Consider how this place survived an economic shock like no other city in America has faced (other than present-day New Orleans). How this area sustained a decades-long transformation such that this region today hardly resembles its former self. And how this city secured such new nicknames as "Roboburgh," "Green Pittsburgh," and "Knowledge Town."
 
To be sure, there is much still to be done.  And we need to be candid -- very candid -- about matters ranging from pollution to health disparities to taxes.

Still, the stories we tell ourselves -- about ourselves -- frame who we are and where we're going.

It's telling that the Great Communicator rarely reminded us about stagflation or our Cold War fears.  Or that President Clinton never veered us far away from a place called Hope.  Instead, they directed us to that shining city on a hill.

It's high time we started doing the same.  For ours is a shining city on many hills, set amidst great hopes.

The simple and profound answer is that we all need to say so.  All of us.  Again and again and again.

---

Gregg Behr is director of the Grable Foundation.