Write a 3-4 sentence summary of your findings from our Virtual Crime Scene Investigation, and tell me which piece of evidence was the most critical in helping you to solve the crime.

Question

We lived in the dark hills of Pittsburgh where the smoke from J. L. Steel dusted our clothes
gray and blanketed the sky, causing sunsets to streak bright pink and orange. Streetcar wires
crisscrossed overhead, making perches for the hungry crows who flew high when the lumbering
cars came, spewing electric sparks. Sometimes we’d put pennies in the metal tracks and wait for
them to be squashed flat as the streetcars rumbled over them, carrying passengers down the
hills into the heart of the city that rested by the three rivers: Ohio, Monongahela, and Allegheny.
But what I remember most about growing up in Pittsburgh was living in a neighborhood
where everyone acted like a relative—an aunt, an uncle, a brother, or a sister. Lots of women
acted like my mother, bossing me, feeding me. Many would hold me on their laps and tell me
stories about High John the Conqueror or John Henry. Some felt no shame about whipping out
a comb and fixing my hair when they thought I looked too raggedy. And days when I was
lucky, one of my neighborhood mothers would jump in the circle and join me in a waist twisting,
hip-rolling hula-hoop. Sometimes it drove me crazy to have so many mothers, but it
also made me feel safe. My real mother was gone—divorced from us—living in another city. But
I lived with my dad,my grandparents, an aunt, a sister, and a cousin whom I called sister.
Dad,Aunt, and Grandpa went off to work while Grandma took care of us. On Tuesdays, she
did laundry in the basement and she let us stir the Argo starch and turn the roller drums to
wring out all the wet in the clothes. Then we’d help hang the clothes on the line and, when the
sheets were dry, she turned a blind eye while we played hide and seek among them. In the
house we’d hike to the third floor and slide down the two banisters, smooth and fast,
convinced it was better than any roller coaster ride at Kennywood Park.
We had a red tricycle with a bell. My sister, Tonie, had outgrown it. I was just the right size,
while cousin Aleta was too small. But when Grandma made chitlins, we would share the bike
and make a game of driving through the stinking kitchen while Grandma cleaned out the pig’s
guts (yuck!) and boiled them. We’d ride our bike through dangerous territory, ringing our bell
once we hit the kitchen linoleum, hollering and hooting like ―wild ones‖—or, as Grandma
would say, like ―Silly children with no sense!‖ If you held your nose you couldn’t ring the bell
and steer at the same time. So we’d count how many bells to figure out who won, who braved
the skunky odor and didn’t hold their nose the most.
The best part of growing up was the world we saw from our front stoop. Widow Chalmers
mothered all the children, watching over us from her porch, waving her fan from the Methodist
Church to cool herself in the summer heat. Mr. Berry, who had a splotch of pink roses on his
cheek, liked checkers and would roam the street looking for a partner, carrying his own lawn
chair. He even played with Aleta, who was five and had to be told every move. There was Jim,
who played ball, spinning, ducking and diving, and throwing hoops into a basketball net and
would only stop if someone was in any trouble. ―Jim, my car stalled.‖ ―Jim, can you drive me to
the grocery?‖ ―Jim, my sink is clogged.‖ Jim later joined the Army and came home and dunked

three baskets in his clod-hopper black shoes and khaki uniform. My sister Tonie, at eleven,
swore she’d marry him.
Stuck-up Rachel liked to cheat at Jacks and had to be blackmailed into playing Double
Dutch. ―I’ll give you some of my Grandma’s chicken from Sunday dinner,‖ I’d offer. I promised a
drumstick for each twenty minutes she turned the rope while I sang and dreamed of winning
Double Dutch Champion at the ―Y.‖ Truth be told, Grandma would have given anyone who
asked a piece of her chicken. Rachel knew it, I knew it. Everyone knew it. But Rachel was two
years older than I and, like another big sister, she was nice enough to let me think I was putting
one over on her.
Sitting on the steps, looking up and down the block, I saw and felt a world where I was
safe, where I knew everybody and everybody knew me. Everybody was brown and black and
when babies were born, we’d all wait for them to grow into their skin. Their shades would
sometimes grow lighter, sometimes darker. Even the color of their eyes would change—blue
became brown, hazel changed to deep green, and brown irises could mellow to a luminous
black. Hair textures all varied: soft, bouncy, waves; strands curled in fuzzy, tight spirals; or even
hair thick and straight because of a throwback to a Cherokee. I knew we all were beautiful.
Summer block parties were the best. We’d close off traffic and sometimes the Fire
Department would open the hydrants and we’d dance and sing while water gushed at us.A
spray of wet beneath the moon and stars. Tonie, Aleta, and I pushed boxes together to make a
stage and lip-synched to the record player, pretending we were The Supremes. ―Stop, in the
name of love! Before you break my heart. Think it o-o-over! . . .‖ and we’d giggle as the grownups
clapped and the other children squealed, and everyone danced, even fat Charlie who could
boogie so well you’d swear there was magic in his shoes.
The best block parties happened for no reason. Anyone—even a child—could wake up one
day and call for ―Block Party Day.‖ And we’d share ribs, corn, chicken, tater pie, and collard
greens, and Miss Sarah who never married always made punch with vanilla ice cream and it
would melt into a swishy mess. Finally, when legs wouldn’t move another dance step, then the
record player was taken away, the street was swept. There were cries and whispers of good
night. My real family and I, we’d go into the house. Grandma, Grandpa, Aunt, and Daddy would
tuck us into bed and kiss me, Tonie, and Aleta good night. And I would wait until Tonie and Aleta
were asleep in the small twin beds (I didn’t want them to think I was off my head) and I’d go
to the window. Then, peeking over the ledge, I’d whisper my own private ―G’night‖ to the rest
of my family, tucked in their beds inside the tall houses all along my street, there in the city
where the three rivers meet.

Answer 1

During our Virtual Crime Scene Investigation, we uncovered significant evidence that revealed the deep sense of community and shared experiences in the narrator's childhood in Pittsburgh. The most critical piece of evidence was the description of neighborhood interactions, particularly the support and care provided by various adults, which painted a vivid picture of safety and belonging. This sense of interconnectedness among residents not only highlighted the themes of familial bonds outside of blood relations but also helped establish a motive for collective protection, unearthing the powerful impact of a close-knit community in addressing challenges and safeguarding each other.