Steel, Smiles, and Second Chances
“There is little success where there is little laughter.” — Andrew Carnegie
Driving toward downtown in the early sun, the city’s skyline catches a playful gold light—buildings gleam, rivers shimmer, and traffic seems to dance to a steady beat. Pittsburgh wakes up with the promise of grit and good humor, no matter what the roads ahead look like. Around here, the laughter you hear in coffee shops and ballparks is more than noise; it’s the secret ingredient that makes challenges bearable and victories feel shared.
Over the years, I’ve spent plenty of days chasing errands up Mt. Washington, exploring the Strip District, and finding comfort even in hard places like waiting rooms and late-night rehab visits. Each time, the people around me found ways to lighten the load—medical staff cracking jokes, strangers sharing a story, my kids trying to outdo each other’s Pittsburghese accents in the car. Even when life pressed hardest—tough diagnoses or goodbyes—someone always found a way to remind me to smile. That’s Pittsburgh’s magic: stubborn hope and the belief that every trial has a bright side if you’re willing to look for it.
Andrew Carnegie, whose generosity shaped this city’s libraries and museums, believed in the power of laughter as a measure of true success. In neighborhoods built on difficult work, laughter helps us see beyond what’s tough—uniting families, bridging differences, and forging the kind of bonds that survive setbacks. The joy that persists between old friends at the ballpark, or in line for fresh doughnuts, makes the small wins matter. Here, a shared smile isn’t just a distraction; it’s a step forward.
Write this week about a moment when laughter made all the difference. Maybe it turned a hard day into a good memory, or brought you closer to someone in the fray. Who was there? How did the city—and its people—help you find joy?
When the work is done and the day was tough, if you can laugh together, you’ve already won.