Buffalo Places to Visit - Moxie Gardiner

The Magnificent Willows of Western New York

For centuries, poets, writers and philosophers have been inspired by weeping willow trees. So have I.

I love all trees. Horse chestnuts, hackberries, hickories and hornbeams. Oak trees, pine trees, palm trees, even family trees. But my favorite of all the arboreal sentinels, the evocative one that brings back childhood memories of summer picnics, warm breezes, and first kisses under its lovely, curtain-like fronds, is salix babylonica, commonly known as the weeping willow.

For centuries, poets, writers and philosophers have been inspired by willow trees, as have I. [1] William Makepeace Thackeray, a 19^th poet and author of Vanity Fair, wrote an ode about its appeal as a trysting place for lovers, entitled “The Willow-Tree.”

Once to the willow-tree
A maid came fearful,
Pale seemed her cheek to be,
Her blue eye tearful;
Soon as she saw the tree,
Her step moved fleeter,
No one was there—ah me!
No one to meet her!

*Many a romance has begun in the willow’s hidden bower.* *All photos ©* *Moxie Gardiner.*

But it isn’t love alone that this unusual looking tree evokes. The tiny, cascading leaves are thought to resemble falling tears, and so the tree is sometimes associated with melancholy and sadness, even death. Unsurprisingly, specimens can be found in Buffalo’s Forest Lawn and other cemeteries. There is also the tragic story of some 300 soldiers who died of illness during the War of 1812 in a place not far from Buffalo’s Delaware Park, and buried in shallow graves. A Dr. Daniel Chapin, who lived nearby, is said to have later reburied the men and marked the spot with willow trees.[2]

*Willows thrive on the banks of rivers and ponds like this one near the Buffalo History Museum’s Japanese Garden.*

Today, weeping willows can be found throughout Buffalo’s beautifully landscaped park system. Intrigued by the mysteries of the weeping willow, I am always on the lookout for one, and was therefore overjoyed to discover two enormous specimens swaying over Hoyt Lake on a recent visit to Delaware Park. I assumed, based on their size, that they had to be hundreds of years old. But after some research I have since learned that weeping willows grow rapidly, and unfortunately, only live for about 65 years.

Which begged the question why, if they are so comparatively short-lived, have I seen so many willow trees throughout the parks, meadows, cemeteries, and along the waterways of Western New York?

*This past year, I planted my very own weeping willow by the pond for further inspiration.*

It turns out that this part of the state provides the ideal habitat for weeping willows, thanks to its proximity to the Great Lakes and plenty of lake-effect moisture. These trees love damp environments and can consume up to 100 gallons of water a day, so I expect they will be a feature of the Western New York landscape for many centuries to come.

Does the weeping willow have the same emotional impact on you that it has on me? What memories does it conjure—happiness, sadness, or fond memories of secret dalliances under its enchanting boughs? Please share your thoughts in the comments, below!

Moxie Gardiner is a writer, gardener, and traveler who grew up on the West Side of Buffalo, NY. In a previous life she was a journalist, magazine editor, speech writer, and policy wonk. Back in the day she made three solo parachute jumps, flew in an F-15 fighter jet, and crawled through mud pits at the Jungle Operations Training Course in Panama. She now meditates and practices yoga. Virgin Snow is her first novel.

[1] His poem also inspired a chapter in my novel, Virgin Snow.

[2] For more information about this tragic event, see 300 bodies in Delaware Park: The War of 1812 | Features | buffalospree.com

The Power of Childhood Memories

It is possible to step back into a childlike state of wonder, if and when we choose to do so.

*Glen Park was a great place for a family outing*. *My cousin Jimmy took me on the scary rides.*

One of my happiest memories as a small child growing up in Buffalo was our family’s summer trips to Glen Park in suburban Williamsville, NY. At the time, Glen Park was not the quiet green space it is today. It was a small amusement park, with kiddie rides and carnival games, and if memory serves me right, a miniature zoo with real goats clambering over the rocks near the park’s waterfall!

My favorite ride was the carousel. The sound of the organ music was the first thing you heard upon entering the park, and when you turned the corner and saw the lights, the colors, and the life-sized animals chasing each other as the whole, wild menagerie went round and round, you were mesmerized. My brothers and I would run to get in line, impatiently waiting for the gate to open, so we could grab the biggest, most realistic-looking horse. Even Mom and Dad would join us on the ride, holding the smallest of us secure in the saddle, while the rest of us bobbed confidently up and down.

*The Herschell Carrousel Factory Museum in North Tonawanda, New York. All photos by Moxie Gardiner.*

Imagine my delight then, when I discovered the Herschell Carrousel Factory Museum this summer in North Tonawanda, a small city located halfway between Buffalo and Niagara Falls. One of the first things you see upon entering the museum is the spectacular “1916 Allan Herschell Number 1 Special Carrousel.” Little did I know before visiting that North Tonawanda was once one of the largest carousel-producing cities in the US. (Fun fact: you can spell “carousel” several ways.)

*Who can forget the day you were finally tall enough to ride the rides by yourself?*

I came to ride the “horses,” but decided first to check out the museum itself, to learn, I hoped, a bit more about how these marvelous merry-go-rounds are made. I visited the carving floor and the painting room and learned about the skills that carvers had to develop during their journey from apprentice to master.

But as I made my way through the museum, I was surprised to discover how instrumental Herschell’s factories were in the growth of the American amusement industry at the turn of the century. They produced all kinds of “kiddie” rides, from small roller coasters to miniature trains to bumper cars, and the factories were among the largest producers of automatic organ music in the country. Some of the rides made by the Herschell companies found their way into another one of my favorite amusement parks—Crystal Beach—just across the river in Ontario, Canada.

I did not realize until I visited the museum how those early amusement park experiences—with all the joy and excitement they inspired—could have a similar effect on me as an adult today. Most of us have scores of memorable experiences throughout our lives, especially when we’ve reached a certain age. Why then, do childhood memories hold such a special place in our temporal lobes? Why are these memories so predominant that they tend to blot out the negative experiences that most assuredly occurred during those tender years?

*The Little Dipper was one of the rides that made its way to Crystal Beach, along with the “Dodgem,” later known as bumper cars.*

*What would a carousel be without melodious organ music as accompaniment?*

I have been reminded of this phenomenon from the comments I’ve received about my recently published novel, Virgin Snow, and some of the blogs I’ve written. Many people who grew up in Buffalo remember their childhood as “the very best of times.” A great deal of psychological research confirms that we recall more positive than negative memories as we age, and that this so-called “positivity bias” has beneficial effects on our personal well-being and even our behavior towards others.[1]

That might explain why, even though I was the only customer in the museum that afternoon, I paid my wooden token and took a spin, alone, on the carousel. I rode King Billy, the biggest and baddest white horse, closed my eyes, and was transported back to a summer evening in Glen Park when my feet barely touched the stirrups. For five glorious minutes I was there, and felt those old feelings again.

I left the museum with a smile on my face, a bounce in my step, and a magnet for the refrigerator that features a photo of the carousel. It serves as a reminder to me that it is possible to step back into a childlike state of wonder, if and when we choose to do so, and that memories are not only good for us, but good for those we share them with.

What are some of your favorite childhood memories, of amusement parks or other things? Please share in the comments below.

[1] For an interesting analysis of positivity bias see Our Memories Become More Positive With Age | Psychology Today

Wax Lips, Licorice Sticks and an Homage to the Corner Store

One of the things I miss most when I return to Buffalo is the family-owned corner store.

*My grandparents owned one of these wonderful stores before I was born.*

One of the things I miss most when I return to Buffalo is something that is almost impossible to find—the once-ubiquitous, family-owned corner store.

I remember the delightful smell of these homey establishments, their worn wood floors emanating the aromas of the goods inside, their painted screen doors (with an ad for Sunbeam bread!) letting in the fresh summer air.

*Many corner stores were multigenerational, family-run affairs, like this one established by Florence and Frank Ganci in 1926.* *Photo courtesy of the Ganci Family.*

They were usually owned by industrious people who lived above them, behind them or somewhere nearby. You would often find the whole family busy sorting and stacking behind the scenes, while the owner worked the counter and knew every kid in the neighborhood.

Behind the counter lay boxes of penny candy and other small treats. Around the room, deep chests were filled with cold beverages and popsicles, and shelves were lined with an assortment of groceries meant for neighborhood mothers with little ones in tow.

*Nothing evokes memories of shopping with my Grandma* *like marinated olives, rosemary and…*

My first memories of going to a corner store on the West Side are with my Sicilian grandmother. At the time, many of the stores specialized in food that made the first- and second-generation Sicilians in our neighborhood feel at home.

While Grandma would stand at the counter ordering freshly butchered meat (including tripe or pig’s feet—ugh), I would watch the live babbaluci (snails) climb up the sides of the large barrels from which they were sold. I knew that if I behaved, she would reward me with a small box of torrone, a sweet white nougat treat, that forever imprinted the association of “corner store” and “candy” in my brain.

*Remember the excitement of opening your Mallo Cup and finding a 25 point coin?*

Once I was old enough to walk to school alone, I would stop at Mantione’s on the corner of 14^th and Hampshire with the nickel or dime I had earned for returning glass bottles.

I would stand in front of the counter debating which treasures I should buy—a pair of ruby red wax lips (that were utterly tasteless), a licorice stick (I preferred red, which isn’t really “licorice”), a pretzel from the cannister, a candy necklace, Nik-L-Nips in little wax bottles, or one of the large assortment of hard, soft and chewy candies, like peach stones and maple creams. The prefrontal cortex of my 8-year old brain agonized over this decision for 15 minutes while Mr. Mantione waited patiently behind the counter.

*How I loved those caramel creams (notice several are missing)!*

Fast-forward to teenaged summers at the Massachusetts Ave swimming pool and frequent stops at Ganci’s Grocery, a store and “super deli” right across from the pool. No longer a hesitant decision-maker, I would stride up to the counter, past the bottles of LaStrella bleach and bars of Fels-Naptha soap, and order a baloney bomber from Mr. Ganci, his son Frank or daughter Cathy, before running over to the pool. If I had enough money, I’d buy a chocolate-covered frozen banana for dessert (which would be devoured before I re-crossed the street).

*Ganci’s Super Deli had the best bombers and ribs in town back in the ’70s. Photo courtesy of Rick Ganci.*

They were hardly the healthy snacks parents buy and children are encouraged to eat today. But it wasn’t really about the food back then. It was all about the experience of learning to count your money (and your change, if there was any), making choices, interacting with adults in an environment outside the home, and enjoying whatever you bought with the little cash you had. It can truthfully be said that we did a lot of growing up in those stores.

I still like to patronize family-run grocery stores, but they are harder and harder to find. On the West Side back in the day, most kids could look out their bedroom window and see a neighborhood store down the street. Now they are a novelty—like Guercio’s on Grant Street—and run by a family’s second, third or fourth generation.

*What could be a more welcome sight in the aftermath of a blizzard, than to see the lights ablaze in Guercio’s, your friendly neighborhood store? Photo courtesy of the Guercio family.*

Whenever I go back to Buffalo, I still like to pay Guercio’s a visit. The food, the smells, the colorful produce, all transport me back to those trips with Grandma. The only thing missing is the barrel of babbalucci. I’m quite sure the snails are happier.

Do you have a memory of a favorite store from your childhood? How old were you when you were finally able to go there on your own? Please share your stories with me and my readers. We’d love to hear from you!

Secrets of the Scajaquada? Treasures of Tonawanda? Or…

This month I am asking readers, what are the undiscovered gems in Buffalo and the surrounding area that I need to visit this year?

*Buffalo’s Garden Walk is always fabulous…*

In July, I will spend a couple of weeks in a cozy little cottage that’s a stone’s throw from Lake Erie. It’s not far from Point Breeze, where my family rented a similar cottage while I was growing up, and oh, it brings back memories!

While I’m staying there, I like to invite friends and relatives to visit and enjoy the beach, they in turn invite me to visit them in Buffalo, and I never fail to take a drive through the old West Side. This year I have several big reunions to attend on the weekends, so it will be a happy, but very busy time.

*But the Open Gardens just outside of Buffalo are equally beautiful. Photos by Moxie Gardiner.*

*I was delighted to learn about the one and only Kazoo Factory and Museum in Eden, NY, from a reader.*

During the week though, when everyone goes back to work, things get quieter and I try to carve out time to explore the Western New York area and all it has to offer. I have my favorites of course—the Buffalo Garden Walk, the Italian Festival, and the Explore Buffalo tours that are always on offer.

But I’m on the lookout for new things and places to write about, and for old things that somehow I’ve missed before. My readers have always been so helpful when it comes to suggestions, so this month I am asking, what are the undiscovered gems in Buffalo and the surrounding area that I need to visit this year?

*I’ve been going to Delaware Park since I was a child, but every time I go I find something new….*

You’ll see from the photos that I love Buffalo’s parks and gardens, lively waterfront, unusual museums, historical places, and local festivals, among other things. While writing a recent blog about fossil hunting, I learned for the first time about the Penn Dixie Fossil Park and Nature Preserve in Blasdell, so that will be a priority. One of my blog readers suggested the Herschell Carrousel Factory Museum in North Tonawanda so I’ll check that out too.

Buffalo's Italian Heritage Festival is canceled this year. — *There is lots to see and do at Buffalo’s Italian Heritage Festival*, *but I go for the food!*

Also for the first time, I’ll have a fish fry at the Swannie House restaurant (the oldest in Buffalo) and tour Frank Lloyd Wright’s historic Darwin Martin House. But that still leaves time for plenty of other excursions!

Does Scajaquada Creek have its secrets, aside from the beautiful lily pond shown in the featured photo? Well, I only recently learned that British writer Shadrack Byfield was wounded there during the War of 1812, and ended up having his arm amputated. I’m sure there is more to learn (especially from the Buffalo History Museum which sits on its banks).

*Kayaking is my favorite way to see Buffalo’s waterfront. Photo by Dean Gallagher.*

I should mention that when my book, Virgin Snow, is published, (with any luck this summer, fingers crossed), I will be back again, probably more than once, to meet with book clubs and readers who like discussing what they read. Hopefully, those trips should afford me additional opportunities to visit places I’m not able to see in July.

Do you have a favorite, little known place in Buffalo, one that others might like to know about? Send me your ideas and suggestions in the comments below. I love to hear them, and you just might see your recommendation mentioned in a future blog!

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: