My unending failures to get Pittsburgh a Gene Kelly statue

(729 words)

There was a homeless guy playing a battered old saxophone smack dab in the middle of Pittsburgh’s Market Square Wednesday when I strolled through.

And I’m making the stereotypical assumption he was homeless. He may just have been an eccentric who likes to dress in shabby clothes to bum money.

No matter. I tossed two bills into his case and shambled on wondering about whether it’d be a good career move for me to learn to play a beat-up old saxophone in the desolate center of one of Pittsburgh’s most iconic locations.

How hard could it be to learn the theme from “The Odd Couple?” And I wouldn’t have to spend so much money on fancy clothes.

The only thing that’s holding me back is my concern that playing the saxophone might be even harder on the fingers than typing and I don’t want to wind up in the emergency room.

Of course, the real question is what the hell is a guy who appears to be homeless doing in the center of one of Pittsburgh’s most premier pieces of real estate when by now there ought to be a spectacular statue of Gene Kelly “Singin’ in the Rain.”

Sunday will mark what would have been Kelly’s 103rd birthday.

This is the fourth consecutive year I’ve in vain lobbied for a Kelly statue in Market Square.

But this is only the first year I’m doing so with access to the ears of an important man who can make this happen.

And, oh, how I wish by that I meant Donald Trump

I daily become more convinced that with Trump as president he’ll make wondrous things happen the way Samantha did when she wiggled her spell-casting nose on “Bewitched.”

Alas, I’m not talking about the dealmaker.

I’m talking about Allegheny County executive Rich Fitzgerald.

I met with him in June at a Pittsburgh function involving city tourism.

I spoke for about two uninterrupted minutes, a virtual facetime eternity with the man who is arguably the most important decision maker in western Pennsylvania.

Here is an idealized version of what I said:

“Look, big shot, you’re helping run one of the world’s most beautiful cities. Scores of prestigious publications are near daily listing Pittsburgh on best-of lists. But you’re failing your constituents by leaving the center of Market Square free of eye-catching art.

“You ought to convince city officials to erect a Gene Kelly “Singing in the Rain” statue in Market Square. That guy and that movie are international superstars beloved around the world. Plus, the symbolism is perfectly Pittsburgh. This city is now in sunshine, but singing in the rain is our bones. Pittsburgh doesn’t quit.”

I boldly went on citing the actual dollar value of pop culture statues around the country and finished with an impassioned plea for him to seize this common sense issue for the betterment of the city we both love.

Know what Fitzgerald did?

He pulled up his zipper, turned to me and said, “How about letting a guy finish taking a piss before you bother him, ya jagoff?”

Actually, it didn’t happen that way at all. I just said it did because I think the idea of me pestering an important public official while he — or she! — is taking a leak is funny.

What actually happened was he was stuffing his face by the dessert table.

I said a more polite version of what’s written above. He nodded, mumbled something about it being a good idea and worthy of consideration.

Then he fled to seek wonky sanctuary amidst his hovering flock of sycophantic toadies.

But he knows I’m right. It’s an obvious winner.

I’ve heard the Kelly’s third wife, (they were married from 1990 until his death in ’96), is opposed and that she may be seeking money before granting her approval.

Well, with all due deference to the widow Kelly, city officials ought to tie the old babe up and and stuff her in some closet.

There is no logical reason for opposing this tribute.

A Gene Kelly “Singin’ in the Rain” statue is an idea whose time has come.

All it needs is a can-do visionary who won’t take no for an answer.

I’d talk to Trump, but I fear the result would be a statue of Trump.

Do something today to help make it happen!

Many metal statues start out with grass roots. 

Related …

Pittsburgh needs a Gene Kelly statue … now! (from ’11)

Knock, knock; Pittsburgh needs a Gene Kelly statue

Pittsburgh landmark defaced by Patriot fans

Me for Pittsburgh mayor

My history of homelessness

Coming clean on reduced shower movement

(799 words)

Many readers by now know I’m something of a grooming minimalist. I’m casual about shaving, rarely visit the barber and think the world would be better off if no one looked in a morning mirror until everyone’s had at least three good blasts of booze.

So you’d think I’d be on board with the fewer-showers movement that’s making news by saying daily showers are unnecessary and perhaps even unhealthy.

Count me out.

I say that for reasons that have more to do with mental health, than physical well-being.

See, the two or three minutes a day I spend in the shower is often the best part of my entire day.

No one’s interrupting me. I feel safe, warm and refreshed, and every part of my soft, supple body is being lovingly rubbed with fragrant soap.

That I’m the dude doing all the rubbing is true, but beggars can’t be choosers.

A good shower is about as close to returning to the womb as we can get without inconveniencing Mom. 

My daughters instinctively understand this. The girls, 13 and 7, would never leave the shower if they didn’t have to. They’re in there for 20 minutes at a stretch.

Drives my wife crazy.

Not me. I understand that most of what happens to them outside the shower will be much more traumatic than what happens in there. Kids can be mean, teachers crabby.

And in there they’re beyond even our parental reach. The shower is the household equivalent of Switzerland. It’s neutral territory. They know we can ask them to leave, but we’re not going to go in there to drag them across the border.

Being a travel writer has I guess made me a bit of a shower connoisseur. I’ve showered in some of the most lavish and relaxing showers in the world.

Ever showered in an outdoor bath? The first time I ever did was at the Bitter End Yacht Club on Virgin Gorda in the British Virgin Islands, a lovely if erroneously named locale where the islands seem to outnumber British virgins by about 250 to 1.

It was just Val and I. No kids. It had one of those pie-pan rainwater shower heads that made you feel like you were Gene Kelly singing in the rain only if Kelly were buck naked and giddy from too much Mimosa.

But the gold medal for showers goes to Wisconsin, the land that’s elevated the shower to something sacred. Much of that has to do with plumbing fixture giant Kohler.

I’ve showered in some Wisconsin bathrooms that were like spas in a stall. They had nozzles that massaged you here, tickled you here, and gave you some liquid loving in places where even aggressive hookers get shy.

That naturally leads me to the topic of buddy showers.

Taking a shower with someone you care about, someone with whom you have shared interests and goals, is one of the world’s best recreations.

And by referring to folks I care about and with whom I have shared interests, I don’t want anyone to think I’m talking about my old hockey teammates.

No, I’m talking about the sex shower.

On that regard, I’ll leave you to your own memories and hope you’ll eventually return to see how today’s post ends, although there won’t be any hard feelings if you decide to spend the rest of the day in quiet reflection.

The only potential benefit to reducing the number of showers we all take is that it would help curb explosive population growth. Because fewer showers equals fewer people getting laid.

This if factual: About 100 years ago it was common for Americans to only have one bath a week. Saturday night was bath night and that was only good if you got first dibs on the tub.

So, say, if you were 19th born Josie Brooklyn Duggar — and talk about your explosive population growth — you might not get to bathe until early Monday morning and the water would by then be unfit for any respectable horse trough.

Hooking up on a Friday in 1914 had to be near impossible. Remember, back then we were still a mostly agrarian society so men and women spent their days toiling in the hot fields and pastures.

I’ve been refused service at some Appleby’s for not showering after summer golf and I was no where near farm animals, although I have golfed with many large men who could benefit from etiquette lessons from free-range livestock.

So let me go on record saying that I wash my hands of the fewer-shower movement. And while I’m at it I might as well wash the rest of myself of it, too.

Me and my bar of soap can be pretty thorough in three minutes.

Related . . . 

Pittsburgh needs a Gene Kelly statue

On HBO “Girls” being naked vs. being nekkid

Potty talk about bathroom euphemisms

My new MicroTouch One razor!