October 15, 2007 by MoPat.

Marti Gorman loves Buffalo, and her e-newsletter shows it, big-time. Here is an excerpt from an email I received with her September Buffalo by Choice (”For those who are in Buffalo by choice, and those who aren’t but wish they
were”) e-newsletter:

“It is such a quintessentially summer evening in Buffalo tonight — block party on Mariner, slip party at the Hatch, a walk along the waterfront with that great across-the-lake breeze, and now hearing the summer sounds out my 1870 Allentown Victorian arched window — voices, and fireworks and music wafting in from LaSalle Park and the yard across the way… I wish you could be here with me in Beautiful Buffalo right now….”

Me, too, Marti. Me, too.

Posted in Summertime | Print | No Comments »

October 15, 2007 by MoPat.

Comments from Rose (Stachura) Barczak:

I left in 1963 when I was married, moved to Rochester and visited Buffalo often. It was hard to give up the excitement of Buffalo and its great night life. A lot of my family still resides there. We went back often since we weren’t far away. Moved to Atlanta in 2005 and really miss the fresh veggies, fruits, bakeries and butcher shops.

I loved downtown Buffalo when I was in my teens. We will always root for the Bills they’re our team and we love em. Hope to be back soon, but, not during winter.

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October 15, 2007 by MoPat.

Late spring to early summer in Buffalo evokes sense memories: the sight of tiny yellow and purple crocus buds magically appearing atop the white bed of snow; the sound of big rain plops, scary thunder and branch-rattling wind; the feel of humid, cool, soft air draping everyone in promise (”Hey! It’s not freezing anymore!”); and the absolutely intoxicating smell of those fluffy, bushy bud-filled branches that grew in my Auntie and Uncle Art’s backyard near the old UB campus–lilacs.

In early June 1963, when I was ten, I dutifully held a bunch of those lilacs in my lap, waiting impatiently for my father to take the picture already. I wished he would hurry so I could go home and play with my friend Barbie. But somehow, the powerful, beautiful scent of those lilacs sucked every thought out of my head. After the flash went off, Auntie Irene took the flowers and put them in a big glass vase.

I haven’t held a bunch of lilacs in my arms since I left Buffalo. I’d like to think that they are still sitting on the table by the blue-green chair in her living room.

Posted in Spring | Print | No Comments »