An Open Letter to Western Pennsylvania: Thank You for Showing Me What It Means to Be a Neighbor
- bromack
- Apr 20
- 3 min read
On Saturday April 18th, I had the honor of standing in a room filled with strength, honesty, humor, and something that feels like it’s getting harder to find in the world: real connection.
To the Western Pennsylvania Parkinson Foundation, and to every person who showed up for the Living Well Conference: thank you.
Not just for having me as your keynote, but for reminding me why this work matters. There’s something different about Pittsburgh. Maybe it’s the bridges, the grit, the hilarious jargon…or maybe it’s the legacy of one of your finest neighbors, Mr. Fred Rogers.
Pittsburgh, at its core, seems to understand something simple and profound: we get through hard things together.
And Parkinson’s is a hard thing. I was so glad we didn’t sugarcoat it at the conference. We didn’t hide behind the well-meaning but limiting phrase: “it’s not that bad.” Because for many people living with Parkinson’s, and for the families walking alongside them, that phrase doesn’t land as comfort. It lands as dismissal.
So together, we tried something different. We told the truth, including a new rally cry emerged:
F Park-in-son’s! (clap, clap, clap-clap-clap!)
Not as negativity or defeat, but as permission. Permission to be honest, angry and demand more; from research, from systems, from each other, and from ourselves.
Because “living well” doesn’t mean pretending everything is fine; It means facing reality and choosing connection anyway.
And then something beautifully, unmistakably Pittsburgh happened: We talked about the Pittsburgh Pirates and a recent PR mistake that could’ve been covered up or easily stayed just that: a mistake. Fanatics made a mistake on a t-shirt, instead of printing “Hoist the colors” (an homage to their pirate logo) printing “Hoist the cone!”
Whatever that means…(actually, baseball being baseball, the Pirates have made it work).
But instead of it being an embarrassment, it became a rallying cry and part of their strong start to the season, including players bringing traffic cone into the dugout and fans wearing traffic cones on their heads.
Pittsburgh - where the imperfect becomes something powerful.
This is exactly what we do in improv, especially at the Jam for Joy: We yes, and the mistakes.
We use them, build on them, and embrace whatever new thing show up. The good stuff lives in embracing the unexpected.
On Saturday, people showed up as neighbors. Listening. Laughing. Supporting. Pushing. Sharing. Refusing to go through this alone. That’s not just inspiring; It’s essential.
Because to change the story of Parkinson’s, to move closer to a cure and, just as importantly, improve the quality of life right now, it’s going to take exactly what I saw in that room: connection. honesty. courage. and community.
This is just the beginning. There’s more to share as we decompress and then “yes, and” to build what’s next. We have a screening of Boys of Summer: Short Stop coming to Pittsburgh in May - stay tuned. More to build. More to do—together.
But for now, I just want to say this: Thank you for welcoming me in.
Thank you for your openness, your fight, your laughter and tears
And thank you for reminding me what it looks like when neighbors show up for each other.
Let’s keep going.
Yes, and…
Your Neighbor,
Robert
Would you be mine. Could you be mine. Won't you be my neighbor.
Won't you please? Won't you please? Please, won't you be my neighbor?
Thank you Mr Rodgers for teaching our generation to use the magic word, please.
Yes, and thank you for sharing this heartwarming and honest recap of your weekend trip. It's always great to hear about the awesome connections across the country made possible in part by the Boys of Summer documentary series.
Raise the cone. Great example of Yes, and.
We are stronger together. Yes, and the more we connect and grow our circles with our stories. The better chance we have at finding a cure for Parkinson's disease. Onward!