According to one old saw, it takes a lot to laugh, and it takes a train to cry. And let me tell you something: it takes missing a broad-daylight ghost house to bring this blogger to his knees; begging forgiveness from you, dear reader. Mom: you deserve better.
Back in April, we ran our first ghost house story on a particular gem we found climbing the steep McClure Avenue hill from the Woods Run neighborhood to Brighton Heights. Maybe if we’d stopped whining about having to bicycle uphill long enough to look around, we’d have seen the yin to that house’s yang literally right around the corner.
Returning to that same beat this summer we were greeted by this visage on Antrim Street. The outline a classic Pittsburgh two-story, four-room frame with an almost-exact match rear porch/addition glommed onto the back. This one features the added mystery of a second-floor section above the back porch that appears in white paint. What is that? It looks like an addition on top of the sloped porch roof, but that seems nutty. You got me.
Fitzgerald famously said that there are no second acts in American lives, but he had less to say about make-goods from unreliable bloggers. Let’s make this thing right. We got back there; we realized the error in our ways; now let the record be set. I know we can never hope to fully repair the trust we’ve lost in this failure of reporting, but we can try. To you, Antrim Street ghost house, hopefully we’re square.