Okay, I will certainly agree that I am more than a little bit prejudiced in my undying affinity for Buffalo, New York, and the surrounding suburbs in western New York. I lived there for two (short) years with my husband, leaving behind my entire family and friends, a lovely home in a friendly neighborhood, and I job that I really liked. I was, actually, more than a little leery about the whole move. People actually said to us “Oh, I hear you’re moving to … Buffalo? Is that right? You’re actually moving to Buffalo??” Less than a ringing endorsement overall, but it was a great opportunity for my husband, a turning point in his career, so off we shuffled to Buffalo.
The first thing that struck us was not only the very wide range of home styles and their availability, but the incredibly diverse price range. At the time we were there, you could have bought what would qualify for an actual mansion in any other part of the country for slightly over $350,000. We chose a home in a Buffalo suburb called East Amherst. (My husband would be working in the city of Lockport; East Amherst was halfway between Buffalo and Lockport.) It was a fabulous neighborhood, populated by families of all ages. There were folks of all ages who lived there, folks from all professions: a dermatologist, orthopedic surgeon, dentists, airline pilots, businessmen and women, teachers, school administrators. Many of them had been born in Buffalo and their ‘dream’ was to live in a suburb like ours just outside the city limits. There were about 60 homes in our neighborhood; there were also at least twenty other neighborhoods in the East Amherst area just like ours.
We found our neighbors to be very friendly, welcoming and charming. Quite a few of them were ‘transplants’ from other parts of the nation; the ones who were native to western New York were perhaps the most stand-offish at first. (One woman later told me that it was hard to develop what she felt was a real friendship with a woman whose job, or that of her husband’s, would pull them out of the area.) We quickly developed a wide-ranging social life: people we had met through my husband’s job, people we met in the neighborhood, people who were friends of our newly-made friends. We went out a LOT. Dinners, parties, concerts and plays in Buffalo, weekends in Toronto all became pretty regular happenings. And my own new friends ranged from the midwestern mom of five to a handful of other women who were also without children.
I should mention that although I was ‘leery’ about relocating to Buffalo for my husband’s career, the opportunity couldn’t have come at a better time for me personally. I had just suffered my third miscarriage. Perhaps if we moved to a different part of the country, perhaps if I stopped working and became a ‘stay at home’ wife (whatever that means), perhaps if I just slowed down for a little bit…we might get another chance. Besides, it was a change of scenery and certainly a change in life style; maybe that was just what the doctor ordered.
I met my best friend forever in Buffalo. She was a native Canadian who was married to a highly successful American businessman and at the time the parent of two teenaged children. What on earth did the two of us have in common? Especially in print, it’s an interesting question to answer. She was funny, really funny, she was kind, she had a great heart, she took her two somewhat rambuncious teens in style, she never let things get out of perspective. She took care of all the things a good mother and wife should; she also took care of her friends as well. She knew how to cultivate a relationship, whether with her kids, her husband, or her friends.
When I did become pregnant, amazingly, a year after we moved to western New York, my unborn child became the neighborhood’s unborn child. Doctors offered solicitations and advice, and more importantly, referrals to the best ob-gyn practices and hospitals. People called me to see how I was feeling! They sent their children over to do lawn and garden work. They gushed over us! As sweet and caring as these same people had been before, they became actual angels to the not so youngish couple having their first, and long-awaited child. My baby shower was held in my BFF’s house; there were over 70 women in attendance. My husband and hers had to make two trips by car to bring home all of the wonderful ‘loot’ we had received: a baby’s first Christman stocking, lovingly handmade with an area in which the name of our child would be placed once the day came. A stuffed buffalo, so we would never forget our ‘roots’. A Naval Academy goat mascot, so we would never forget our origins. To this day, I am still touched by their thoughtfulness and generosity from the heart. And yes, I still have many, many of those wonderful gifts.
I’ve often tried to piece together why we loved living in Buffalo so very much. Of course, the people were great. The housing was an incredible value; we have never, ever since then been able to duplicate another home as well-built and designed as our East Amherst home. Taxes were relatively low; there was tons of great shopping to be had right up the main road, or a mere border cross into Toronto. (Boy, the fun we had in Toronto! The dinners, the plays, the shopping – we had a little routine where a group of us would cross over the border in the morning, and spend the day shopping – window or actually buying! Around 6:30 PM, one of the husbands drove the rest of the mates with him across that same border, meeting us for dinner.) Buffalo was in the process of expanding its waterfront area by bringing in these great little condos and tons of new retail business. The skiing was pretty amazing by anyone’s standards, I believe. Neighbors (including us!) would cross country ski across our covered front lawsn. Boating was a blast, although the boating season itself was relatively short…
Maybe that was the reason. People who live in Buffalo often feel the sting of jokes about their weather. Even though we haven’t lived there for a while, I still take those remarks personally. The first winter that we lived there, it snowed every day – yes, every single day – during the month of December. Snow piled up higher and higher, coming down in great heaps from low-hanging gray clouds. Most people don’t realize what a well-oiled machine Buffalo and its surrounding suburbs are when it comes to their snow. School was, frankly, rarely closed. (And the school system in western New York, by the way, is absolutely outstanding.) Municipalities knew what to do, and when to do it. No wasting time, energy and materials as a storm was in progress; once it started to decline in strength and numbers, snow plows and trucks were out in full force, day or night. People knew how to DRIVE in the snow as well. Remember, it isn’t snow that causes accidents as much as it really is the ice. And Buffalo made sure that there was very little, if any, ice beneath that snow.
I once read that Buffalo had the highest percentage of swimming pools, both inground and above, of any city in the nation. While I found that somewhat amusing at the time, it really does speak to the character of western New Yorkers. The time for things – certain aspects of life, of the weather, of the economy – can be fleeting. Make the most of what you have when you have it in hand. And I’d move back there in a New York minute…
