Any regular reader of this space knows I love my hometown. Maybe it's a result of booming and belching steel and chemical plants of my youth, but Buffalo is part of my DNA.
By returning, after 24 years away, I can see better. I can breathe better. The pieces that I never knew were missing are all here. I've been back for nearly nine months now, yet every day I stumble upon a new place, food or phrase that reconnects a frayed edge.
Some folks might see the motley assortment of abandoned storefronts, those going-out-of-business and those which probably should, when you walk out of the front of my apartment building, but I see first two grand architectural monuments.
I now know the "Electric Tower" is a white-glazed, terra cotta gorgeous example of Beaux Arts Neo-Classical Revival built in 1912 to administer the booming business of selling electricity harvested from nearby Niagara Falls.
But when I was a child, it was a giant, magical wedding cake with nightly celebrations by fairies and elves in the beautifully illuminated tower top.
They stored their secret treasures right next door at the 1901 Buffalo Savings Bank (now M&T Bank) with it's gold-leafed dome, sparkling against the night sky outside and lined with spectacular murals celebrating local commerce inside.
Other second graders might have marvelled at the "stereographic" images of the "Architectural Wonders of the World" (a starter reel packaged with every Viewmaster sale), but I had mine right here. These buildings told me I lived someplace special and therefore I was special too.
They call to grandeur and possibility in a way even my midwestern-raised husband can feel. It was at first startling and then sweet to see him respond with a hometowner's pride to the excitement my suburban niece and nephew had in seeing the buildings. "Take my picture here," Connor said, staking his claim for a share of the magic.
These twin titans are just two treasures of the hundreds of marvels here. Much discussion and some effort has been raised in the direction of archtectural tourism in Western New York, but I wish only that more folk here understood and appreciated our own treasure.
I've lived in the steel-towered, that-wasn't-here-yesterday, Sunbelt centers. Their money can't buy our pride or past. We focus more on the fact that our children are leaving the area in droves rather than showing them the reasons to stay.
It's the Buffalo paradox that nearly every waitress or clerk that mentions the spectacular summer weather we've enjoyed has to add the caveat that it will likely mean an especially tough winter.
Yes, our winters can be harsh and our politics criminal, but it isn't just that this city was once something special. It is something special.
Just look out my front door.




Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs