Buffalo Gal

Today is my last day with the orchestra, new job, new chapter starts in 25 hours. Today will be the expected swirl of excitment and remorse.
It's going to be a Lucky Charms morning for sure.
For as long as I've been around, Cheerios and Lucky Charms have been made near the big grain elevators at the south edge of downtown Buffalo.
The only time I passed through the area as a child was on my way to and from the cottage, station wagon windows down, breathing it all in just before you hit the steel plants that used to dot the lakeshore with their close-the-window belching flumes. The process reversed coming home, the sweet toasty smell welcoming you back to kickball, delis and the old men on Lovejoy who seemed to play the same game of Bocce for years.
One summer, a cottage neighbor worked at the General Mills plant and shared large transparent bags of cereal seconds... scrunched shamrocks, flattened diamonds... which tasted just like the perfect version. I imagined that this was how rich children ate every day , served on silver trays in crystal bowls.
I felt like one of them spooning the misshappen hearts from my plastic bowl on the cottage stoop.
As a mature adult and responsible single parent in the next time zone, I'd smile when I saw the red box with deep gold letters as I placed a healthier alternative in the cart.
But I'd been telling my husband about the Lucky Charms smell for years.
We hit it one of the first trips out to the cottage in his little convertible, taking it in every pore. The steel plants are gone now so the top stays down to lake views, old industrial shells and new construction. The lake is now the class ugly duckling who became a stunner while you were gone, but the trip is still best when they are toasting Lucky Charms.
We kept the windows closed and air conditioning on for most of the summer in our downtown apartment, but opened them one night to discover that if the winds are just right -- a gentler version of the sweet, toasted smell is delivered directly to my living room. The leasing agent went on about the wood floors and granite counters , but never said a word about the best feature.
So I bought a box earlier this summer for the cottage and then one for the apartment. Most mornings it's still tea and a bagel.
But a day like today, of self-congratulation and anticipation, demands the Charms.

Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs

Buffalo Gal Judi Griggs I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (2) Share on Facebook		2005-09-28 7:33 AM Frosted Lucky Charms are magically... Today is my last day with the orchestra, new job, new chapter starts in 25 hours. Today will be the expected swirl of excitment and remorse. It's going to be a Lucky Charms morning for sure. For as long as I've been around, Cheerios and Lucky Charms have been made near the big grain elevators at the south edge of downtown Buffalo. The only time I passed through the area as a child was on my way to and from the cottage, station wagon windows down, breathing it all in just before you hit the steel plants that used to dot the lakeshore with their close-the-window belching flumes. The process reversed coming home, the sweet toasty smell welcoming you back to kickball, delis and the old men on Lovejoy who seemed to play the same game of Bocce for years. One summer, a cottage neighbor worked at the General Mills plant and shared large transparent bags of cereal seconds... scrunched shamrocks, flattened diamonds... which tasted just like the perfect version. I imagined that this was how rich children ate every day , served on silver trays in crystal bowls. I felt like one of them spooning the misshappen hearts from my plastic bowl on the cottage stoop. As a mature adult and responsible single parent in the next time zone, I'd smile when I saw the red box with deep gold letters as I placed a healthier alternative in the cart. But I'd been telling my husband about the Lucky Charms smell for years. We hit it one of the first trips out to the cottage in his little convertible, taking it in every pore. The steel plants are gone now so the top stays down to lake views, old industrial shells and new construction. The lake is now the class ugly duckling who became a stunner while you were gone, but the trip is still best when they are toasting Lucky Charms. We kept the windows closed and air conditioning on for most of the summer in our downtown apartment, but opened them one night to discover that if the winds are just right -- a gentler version of the sweet, toasted smell is delivered directly to my living room. The leasing agent went on about the wood floors and granite counters , but never said a word about the best feature. So I bought a box earlier this summer for the cottage and then one for the apartment. Most mornings it's still tea and a bagel. But a day like today, of self-congratulation and anticipation, demands the Charms. Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs Read/Post Comments (2) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top