By Karen Monaco
During these incessantly gray, spring-is-not-even-close Buffalo winter days, even the staunchest of Queen City advocates will probably admit that at least for a moment, they've wondered if the grass is greener in other cities--if living elsewhere wouldn't be a good, if not great, idea.
Especially when the grass is not covered in a foot of snow.
I readily admit I have been guilty of having those thoughts. Twice I actually acted on them, moving to both Western North Carolina and Manhattan, wanting to find out if better weather or the big city would make for a more fulfilling existence. And while I still remain a proud Elmwood Villager, there are moments--albeit few and far between--that I wonder if I made the right choice.
But it was late this fall on a weekend getaway to my old stomping grounds in New York when I realized that the idea of fleeing my hometown again will remain just that--a distant, errant thought. It was my Buffalo "aha" Moment.
From the way the trip was going, it was a revelation that I could never have predicted. I had always loved the palpable energy of the Big Apple, and this particular evening it seemed to be amped up even higher that I remembered. I was staring down the barrel of my ideal night--reservations at much-buzzed-about restaurant, a pair of Broadway tickets in my pocket, and absolutely nothing on my schedule the next morning that would keep me from staying out as long as I wanted. In the past, it was weekends like these that made me board the plane back to Buffalo with a heavy heart.
I was hanging with an old high school friend who left Buffalo, but unlike me, had no intention of returning anytime soon. Annie had rooted herself in Manhattan, flourishing in a career as a television producer at MTV, where I worked as the writer for both her shows. But don't be fooled by her address--much like myself, she is proud to be a Buffalo native, a fact that no one can dispute seeing as though she has a tattoo of the Grand Island Bridge on her wrist.
We had time to kill, as dinner at an Italian place on the Lower East side wasn't for another hour. So we randomly ducked into a nearby restaurant for a drink without even looking up at its name. It had a cozy, tropical feel with fresh flowers on tea-lighted tables, an aquarium-sized punch bowl of sangria calling out to us at the end of the bar.
But it isn't the bulging glasses of wine that I'll remember most from that evening; it's the bartender who was wearing a shirt that said "I Left My Heart On Elmwood." Although I had never actually seen the design before, it had all the makings of a City Love creation, and I knew it was too much of a coincidence. When we asked where he was from, I wasn't surprised when he said, "Buffalo." What was surprising was the way he said it. There was a longing in it. Here was a guy who was living in what many regard as one of the greatest cities on earth, and he was pining for Western New York.
His story was not uncommon; he left in order to find work. Actually, he was punching the clock at two jobs--one in his chosen career path, and low and behold, this bartending gig that he needed in order to make his lofty rent for his not-so-lofty apartment. Hmmm. Suddenly, the stinging pain I had felt every month when writing the check for my Upper East Side closet--uh, I mean, apartment--was fresh in my memory.
Soon we were naming all our Buffalo favorites: strolling down Elmwood with a cup of coffee, tailgating at 9AM before a Bills game, Shea's, late night chicken finger subs at Jim's Steakout, Thursday at the Square and the Albright-Knox.
But most of all we talked about the people. Their heart, their desire to help their neighbors, and of course, their ability to withstand the two most frustrating sports franchises on the planet (but still signing up for season tickets). The community of Western New York is the secret ingredient that makes Buffalo an irresistible recipe, keeping the once ex-pats coming back for more.
Before we left, our bartender did what any good Buffalo boy would do--he gave us two shots on the house. We returned the favor by over-tipping, which of course is customary when given free drinks by a hospitable bartender, but our Buffalo brotherhood upped the ante.
As we dashed through the rain to our next stop, I realized that I wasn't crazy or delusional; there are good things about Buffalo, real reasons to stay. And while there is no denying that Buffalo has its downfalls, it still has plenty of culture and sports and good people to surround myself with, at a price that doesn't involve nearly as much monthly wincing. And so the rest of that night, I soaked up every New York moment, for Buffalo will never, ever be Manhattan. And I relished every second until our taxi dropped us home.
But this time, when I sat waiting at my LaGuardia gate the next day, my heart didn't sink when I heard over the loudspeaker that the Buffalo flight was ready to board. I calmly put away my magazine and walked down the jetway, content.
And
so I won't be changing area codes anytime soon and my shovel isn't going
anywhere. But in the dead of
winter, while I will always yearn for the green tunnel of trees that line my
street or the green fields of Delaware Park buried deep under layers of snow, I
will not be yearning for the green on the other side of the fence.
Photo: ECB
I have been living in the Boston, MA metro area for the past 35 years. When I originally came to Boston to attend Boston University, I could not have gotten away from Buffalo any faster and I did not intend to ever live in Buffalo again. I was full of the same youthful arrogance and condensation towards Buffalo that is often exhibited on BRO by some of its habitually cynical posters. However, if living in a city that has done its best to morph into a Manhattan clone with $2000 a month apartments, $200 a month must-have parking spots if you live in Boston, Brookline or Cambridge, very high automobile insurance rates, a very dense environment and a very unfriendly, cold and surly populous is what you want to deal with by moving to Boston from Buffalo, all in the pursuit of the supposed relief and release from whatever you dislike about Buffalo and the pursuit of whatever you think is "better" than Buffalo then make sure are aware of what I’ve just mentioned and be prepared. If you have a lot of student debt when you start out, I hope you don’t mind having roommates until you’re forty or alternatively living 35 to 50 miles outside the city. You’ll also find that Boston has all the same urban problems that Buffalo (as does every other city in the USA) with its own unique twist on some of them like race relations. Ironically, what I now really like about Buffalo and why I plan to move back in the summer of 2010 is its quality of life. That’s very important once you live past 30, especially if you want to have a family.
jstraubinger - You posted some very interesting comments. I don't know much about the mid 70s in the City, since I was not alive then, but I'm sure Buffalo was going through some (not-so-good) morphing stages. Most of the people my age (those born in the early 80s) never saw Buffalo in it's glory days or those days when places like Parkside, Downtown, LWS, etc... were not appreciated and taken care of. It seems to me, when blockbusting and "white-flight" was occurring in the 60s and 70s, the city core was not being kept up.
What I can say is that living in The City, knowing what is going on, is very exciting right now. Streets like Hertel, Elmwood, Allen have businesses are thriving. Streets that I'd (we'd) like to see developed (positively) are Grant St Seneca St. and Broadway/Fillmore business district.
But, I'm sure if I lived in Buffalo in the mid 70s and saw the not-so-good stuff going on, I'd probably move too.