All Roads Lead to Etna, Pennsylvania

Etna is a small town right outside the city limits of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. A former booming mill town, Etna was home to much of my father’s family. A place where I spent many days of my early life. Summers with my aunts at the pool, nights of my teens at the street fair. Thanksgivings and then wakes. On towards adulthood and all the nights out at the local bars. Where your last name was a credential to get you in the door, or at least to stay once you got inside. I have always felt tied to Etna. 

After the industry in Etna faded, and as people began to spread out into the suburbs, families from Etna moved further north towards Glenshaw, Burchfield, and other points north in Shaler Township. The Shaler school district still encompasses all of these diverse communities.

Those that were part of this great migration from the city exurbs (including Sharpsburg, Millvale, and Etna) lost access to main street business districts, public transportation options, and communities with bakeries, butcher shops, and…souls. But, there were tradeoffs to be made, and grandma always would be there. They could visit.

A discussion with three high school friends today, who have since relocated all over the country, uncovered mutual connections we had to Etna. Some of these connections were known—friends who had played there together as toddlers or fathers who grew up there together. Some connections unknown—mutual friends, relatives who owned favorite businesses, or those who had attended dance classes together at the Etna studio.

Although none of us had grown up in Etna together, we had all grown up there in various ways together. Some, by living there for ten years, some one year. Some by having family there, some by shared experiences that could only be had in Etna. But all of us were connected. It was a revelation.

This is what is so amazing about Pittsburgh, these connections. The roots, branches, and fallen leaves—all part of that same tree.

I feel lucky to be from Pittsburgh. I feel lucky to know where I came from. I feel lucky to know my history. And I am filled with joy to talk to others who have had these shared experiences of growing up here. There is nothing exactly like it, and no words to quite explain it—just how connected I feel to these people.

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These are photos from an old panorama I have in my home. The subjects are from The Ex-Service Club (1917-1918) taken in Etna, Pennsylvania on Memorial Day in 1921. I have always loved this photo, but now I love it even more thinking that I probably look at a friend’s great-grandfather, or great-great uncle every day.

I’ll never know for sure who these people are, but I do know I am connected to them in some way. Of that, I am certain.