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.

Fresh garlic!!

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 14th 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!

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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

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!

And yes, I take time to enjoy the beach, and never, ever miss a Lake Erie sunrise, or sunset, if I can help it.

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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

Publishing My West Side Story: It’s About to Get Real

Like every would-be author discovers, if writing a book isn’t difficult enough, the ordeal of trying to get it published tests all one’s powers of endurance.

Regular readers of my blogs will know that Buffalo and its people, history and culture are common themes in my writing. It was not until I left Buffalo that I realized how much I loved the city and the unforgettable inhabitants of the West Side where I grew up. Writing and thinking about them has given me greater insight into my own personal development, as well as respect for the city and the fundamental changes it has experienced.  

But even as I faithfully posted these monthly blogs, I continued to write something else about Buffalo, something larger in scope and deeper in its contemplation of what it was like to grow up there, to go to school there, to live there. For the past five years (although it feels like a lifetime), I’ve been writing a novel set in the city where I was born.

Titled Virgin Snow, my fictional story is about a young West Side girl, coming of age against a backdrop of unraveling family secrets and the legacy of lies told to protect them. It is the late 1960s and the country is in turmoil, Buffalo is teetering on the precipice of economic collapse, and the teachings of the Catholic Church are coming under question. Faith in those who run the country and seemingly every aspect of society, is crumbling. Uncertain who or what to trust, 13-year-old Cosi McCarthy resists her domineering mother and eventually throws in her lot with a “radical” nun who serves as her mentor, a savvy black psychiatric patient who has been unfairly confined, a conscientious objector who looks like Jesus, and the young man she secretly loves—a Vietnam Vet grappling with his own demons.

Like every would-be author discovers, if writing a book isn’t difficult enough, the ordeal of trying to get it published tests all one’s powers of endurance. I tried the usual route and it was like flinging my manuscript into a black hole. So I decided to explore the regional publishing route and was lucky to discover NFB Publishing, a company based in Buffalo itself. I was elated when I received a response from the publisher, indicating the beta-reader who vetted my story really liked it, and they would be proud to publish my book.

I’ll keep all my blog readers apprised of the book’s progress. I’m told that paperback and e-book copies should be available as soon as this summer, and can be ordered online directly from NFB Publishing or from Amazon, IngramSpark and other online booksellers, as well as purchased in bookstores in the Buffalo area.  

Once the book is out, I’ll be having some launch-related events and activities, particularly in the Buffalo area. It would be nice to sell a few copies as a result, but what I’m really looking forward to is sharing thoughts and conversations with readers about the things that formed the very fabric of our lives. I also hope to begin a conversation with readers unfamiliar with Buffalo, to immerse them in a world that has more to its credit than snow and “buffalo wings;” a city with an amazing history, incredible architecture, a beautiful waterfront, and interesting and diverse neighborhoods.

If you would like to learn more about Virgin Snow, please leave me comments in the section below. Once the book is published, look for a new space on this website for you to leave your comments and reactions to the book itself. As always, I look forward to hearing from you.

Moxie Gardiner is a writer and gardener 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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

Why Buffalonians Will Always Love Spring Break

As long as there are long, snowy months in Buffalo, there will be snowbirds of every age winging their way to the Land of Sunshine.

Imagine, if you will, that it is late March or early April in Buffalo, and daytime temperatures are still hovering in the 30s as they have for the past five months or so. A thick gray blanket of cloud continues to obscure the sun and there are very few green things poking through the half-frozen mud. You are tired of brushing snow from your windshield and avoiding ice wherever you walk. You long to be warm again, feel the sun on your face, and to be shed of the three layers of winter clothing that make you look ten pounds heavier than you actually are.

The hotel was nice enough, considering the price. All photos by Moxie Gardiner.

At least, that’s how I felt when I was a freshman at Buffalo State College and first learned about something called “spring break.” The school was sponsoring a bus trip down to Daytona Beach, Florida the week before Easter, and the price included a shared hotel room. Once I determined that I’d get a couple hundred dollars back from my tax return—enough to cover both bus and room—I called several girlfriends and signed us up.

There was, I’ll admit, always a bit of craziness around the pool.

Having never traveled such a long distance from Buffalo in my life, I failed to ask a few pertinent questions like, how long will the bus trip take (24 hours with stops) how many bathrooms will there be on the bus (one), and how many people to a hotel room (four).  Small matters, it might seem, when you are young and adventurous, until the bus begins to smell of vomit after six hours of non-stop drinking, and your girlfriends want to invite new “friends” to spend the night in your hotel room.

There was a band at every hotel, entertaining us for free! Thought I’d died and gone to heaven….

At the time, I thought spring break was a new and novel idea, but have since found out that the concept has been around for a long time. The Greeks and Romans, if you want to go back that far, were the first to invent the spring bacchanalia, which included wine, sex, and various forms of debauchery to celebrate the arrival of the vernal equinox. But spring break, in its current form, is attributed to a swimming coach at Colgate University (a fellow New Yorker) who wanted his swim team to get some early spring training back in the 1930s. The idea apparently caught on and many northern college swim teams began making the annual trek to warmer climes.

Now spring break is an annual tradition enjoyed by students in many countries and is considered by some to be one of the more memorable collegiate experiences. For Americans, Florida is no longer the primary destination. The Bahamas, Hawaii, Mexico and Arizona are among the top trending travel destinations for spring break 2023. Florida apparently makes up only 18% of overall bookings.

The tire blew to smithereens, which created a bit of excitement.
But after chilling out for several hours, we were back on the road again….

With one or two exceptions, (like the time our Blue Bird bus blew a tire and went skidding off the road into the North Carolina wilderness), my spring break experiences were fairly tame by modern standards. We partied, of course, listened to bands, played volleyball, and went swimming in the ocean. But my favorite thing to do was catch fish and bring them to a local restaurant, where the kitchen would clean and prepare your fish and serve it with sides for about $5. All very innocent, as I said.

Motorbikes of all kinds ply the hard packed sands of Daytona Beach.

How then, has spring break taken such a bad turn in recent years? According to recent articles, on South Padre Island, police report an average of 25 arrests per day during the typical spring break week. In Panama City, where the spring break season extends through March and into April, there were almost 700 arrests in the first few weeks of March alone. In Miami, multiple weekends of violence have left two people dead, hundreds arrested and dozens of guns confiscated by law enforcement officers. Whatever happened to drinking a few beers and nuzzling under a palm tree?

Me and my catch of the day (the fish, that is).

It is a shame that what was once a rite of passage for college kids—where getting too sunburned was your greatest concern—has in some places become dangerous and potentially deadly. I hate to be one of these people who talk about how things were so much better back in the day, but in this case I think they might have been.

That said, I don’t think it will matter much to Buffalonians. As long as there are long, snowy months in Buffalo, there will be always be snowbirds of every age winging their way to the Land of Sunshine.

Did you ever participate in spring break? What was it like for your generation? I would love to hear your stories.

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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

Where Next? The Tyranny of Too Many Choices

How might you choose among the following travel destinations if you had unlimited time and money?

Usually at this time of year, I begin to dream about where I might go on my next big vacation. This West Side girl needs to get herself back out into the big wide world! The problem is, there are too many places I’d like to go and not enough time to see them all (I’m not getting any younger), so how do I choose?

As always, I’ve organized my options into five buckets, but this year I’m soliciting advice. How might you choose among the following if you had unlimited time and money? (I don’t have either one, but heck, we’re dreaming here.)

Riding bikes along a canal is a scenic, easy going, and affordable option.

An Active Vacation: I try to stay fit so active vacations—where I get a sufficient amount of exercise every day—are always at the top of my list. I’ve investigated opportunities for bicycle trips across Europe, scenic walks on old pilgrimage routes, and heart-pumping hikes through national parks ranging from Alaska to Chile. But I’m thinking this year, why not do something local, like a bike ride along the Erie Canal from Buffalo to Rochester? Its attraction? It’s mostly flat (and affordable).

An Ancestry Vacation: Like many who have delved into genealogy or spit into a tube and had their DNA tested, I’ve found that I have distant relatives all over the place, to include far-away lands like Turkey and Egypt. I have recently learned, though, that ten generations of one line of my family hail from lovely Switzerland, home of the Alps, edelweiss, Lindt chocolate, Lake Lucerne, and the Bernina Express railway. Previous visits to distant relatives in other foreign countries have led to surprisingly warm and welcoming receptions, so why not explore one’s roots in a place of stunning beauty?

Oh, to visit family in the majestic Alps of Switzerland!

A Somewhere-I’ve-Never-Been-Before Vacation: Yes, I am one of those people addicted to the new and different, so going to places I’ve never been is always a thrill. There are several islands in the Mediterranean Sea, for example, like Elba (where Napoleon was exiled), Corsica (a French island with white sand beaches), and Sardinia (home to a herd of albino donkeys) that I’ve never set foot upon. Another option I like is visiting small countries not usually on the list of tourist hot spots, like the Baltic countries of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia. Finally, I’ve never been anywhere in the Middle East so Egypt and Jordan rise to the top of this list for obvious historical and cultural reasons.

Who doesn’t love to walk among the world’s most exotic animals?

A Wildlife Vacation: I can never get too much of the natural world, and I’d rather travel 1,000 miles to see an exotic bird or mammal than a foreign country’s Hard Rock Café. The photo safari experience I had in Africa’s Serengeti was one of the highlights of my life, but I hear that Costa Rica, a place not as far geographically speaking, has more than its fair share of gorgeous flora and fauna. Furthermore, it costs far less than traveling to Africa, and the flight is shorter and easier on the old bod.

One of the benefits of working in a national park is access to beautiful, unspoiled places that tourists seldom get a chance to see.

A Working Vacation: Hold on now. I’m not talking about having your phone glued to your ear and the office calling you 24/7. I’m talking about volunteering somewhere, like a state or national park, that depends on free labor to supplement the work of their limited full-time staff. I had a wonderful vacation in Rocky Mountain National Park one year, working with park rangers on controlling the spread of invasive species. Although some of the day was spent working, I got to enjoy the park and see parts of it I wouldn’t have otherwise. Another bonus: volunteers receive free admission to the park on the days they work, and may receive free camping or other accommodations depending on the project and its duration. I’d love to work in one of the Southwest national parks like White Sands, Carlsbad Caverns, or Big Bend (but preferably not in the summer!).

So, friends help me out here. If you had to choose, where would you go? 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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

Life in Buffalo—375 Million Years Ago

My uncle’s goal on these field trips was to teach us about paleontology…as well as something about life in Buffalo before the Buffalo Bills. (Photo of Eighteen Mile Creek by Doreen Regan)

Often we would find imprints of brachiopods in the shale, but sometimes we were lucky enough to find an intact specimen, like those above. Fossil photos by Moxie Gardiner.

I had the great good fortune to have a science teacher for an uncle. He loved his work and taught his nieces and nephews about the world at large as well as the part of it we lived in: about soils and rocks, the importance of the summer and winter solstices, and how to identify harmless snakes and move them without getting bitten, among other things.

He enjoyed taking us on field trips on his days off, and one of his favorite places to explore was Eighteen Mile Creek, a tributary of Lake Erie that meanders south of Buffalo, mostly through the town of Hamburg. As a science teacher in the Buffalo City Schools, Uncle Ed knew all the places where people were permitted to go fossil hunting. His goal on these trips was to teach us about paleontology, the study of fossilized plant and animal remains, as well as something about life in Western New York before the Buffalo Bills.

Inside the small round balls of pyrite a fossil could be found.

Eighteen Mile Creek is so-named because its waters flow into Lake Erie at a point 18 miles southwest of the former village of Black Rock, now a neighborhood on the western edge of Buffalo.[1]  I remember as a child clambering down the shale cliffs behind my uncle, into the gorge formed by the creek. While in places the cliffs rise 100 feet or more, the creek itself is wide but not very deep, a perfect place for wading on a hot summer day while we searched the cliffs for ancient life.

Crinoid stems are all that remain of an ancient sea flower.

My uncle had a knack for simplifying complex subjects in a way that made them meaningful for children. All of the fossilized creatures we would find in the layers of thin grey shale would be from the Paleozoic Era, he would tell us, and they lived not in the Great Lakes but in a body of water known as the Devonian Sea. Rather than have us try to memorize the Latin names of the fossils (what 11-year-old would remember athyris spiriferoides?), he would tell us the “common names” of what we were finding.

Trilobites were ancient crustaceans now found between the shale layers of Eighteen Mile Creek. We had to handle these very gently so as not to break them.

He described how at the bottom of the Devonian Sea lay a magnificent coral reef not unlike the Great Barrier Reef of Australia. The drab, grey fossils we were looking for—brachiopods, pyrite, crinoid stems, and the most sought after prize of all, trilobites—were once as colorful and beautiful as any ocean creatures we might see today. If we found one of these precious relics, he instructed, we were to wrap them carefully in newspaper and put them in a metal box, so as not to break the tiny creatures embedded in the fragile shale. We stuffed the harder, calcified fossils we found near the creek bed and lakeshore, into our pockets.

My uncle called theses bryozoans, Devonian plants with thin, flat branches.

I remember going home at the end of the day with our small treasures, my head filled with images of small marine animals clinging to rocks, and of plants waving their fronds at the bottom of a sea where I now walked. I still have those fossils, safely tucked away, wrapped in very old newspaper.

As an adult, I have since learned that the Great Lakes are a paleontologist’s dream, with fossils plentiful all along the vast shorelines, thanks to the glaciers that scoured them from the hardened Devonian sea bottom, and the waves that now deposit them on the beaches. I’ve also recently learned about a place called the Penn Dixie Fossil Park & Nature Reserve in Hamburg, on what was once part of the quarry of the Penn Dixie Cement Corporation. According to the Reserve’s website, it is ranked as the #1 fossil park in the U.S. and welcomes guests from around the world.[2]

The Fossil Park is temporarily closed until April 2023, but when it reopens, I plan to visit. I read that you can keep whatever fossils you find during your explorations. What better way to relive my childhood memories of a mind-expanding educational experience, and honor the memory of Uncle Ed, science teacher extraordinaire.

Have you ever looked for or found fossils on the beaches of the Great Lakes or along one of its tributaries like Eighteen Mile Creek? I would love to know if you share my interest in these small relics of the past, or if you have ever simply stumbled upon them. Please let me know in the comments below.

To this day I have no idea what this is, but I believe it is a fossil, not just a rock. It appears scaly, like an ancient fish. Any paleontologists or science teachers out there who can help me?

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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

[1] An excellent scientific and historical tome on the subject is Geology and Paleontology of Eighteen Mile Creek by Amadeus W. Grabau. This book, Grabau’s master’s thesis at MIT, was originally published in two volumes in 1898-1899, and has since been republished by the Hamburg Natural History Society. I have no idea if my uncle ever read this book, but I hope he did. He would have loved it.

[2] For more information about the fossil park, visit https://penndixie.org/fossil-hunting/

A Buffalo Christmas to Remember

Everyone in my hometown of Buffalo, NY will have a story to tell about the “bombogenesis” blizzard that hit the city late this December, just as many of its native sons and daughters were traveling home to be with family for the Christmas holidays. I was one of those making the journey.

We walked through knee-deep snow to check on an elderly neighbor when we saw no lights in his house for two days. Thankfully, he was fine. All photos in this blog by Moxie Gardiner.

Fortunately, my story, unlike that of some others, is not a tragic one. As I write this the death toll in Erie County stands at 39 and may continue to climb as government workers and ordinary citizens uncover cars and homes buried in snow. Many residences lost power and heat for days, while temperatures outside dropped into the single digits (with wind chills plummeting to levels too low to contemplate as the winds raged between 70-80 mph). There are tales of first-responders trapped in their vehicles in whiteout conditions while attempting to assist those with medical emergencies, and of people becoming disoriented in the snow and dying within close proximity of their homes.  

Gale force winds weren’t going to stop this Bills fan from flying his flag on Christmas Eve.

Inevitably, some of the stories coming out now are political, complete with finger-pointing, second-guessing, and blame-casting. I will let the news organizations sort all that out. Certainly, it is important after being hit with the “storm of the century” that all concerned take a retrospective look at what could be done better next time. But I want to go on record with my story because I’m sure it’s representative of how ordinary people cope and come together in the face of an extraordinary disaster.

Buffalo is no stranger to winter storms, but this one was surprising in its ferocity. I was in my car, heading north into the city early Friday morning, December 23rd, somewhat reassured by updates from my son that conditions were “not that bad” where he was. Between 8 am and 9 am the temperature dropped rapidly and the winds began to rattle my car as I drove along Lake Shore Road, with large waves visibly crashing at water’s edge. Large branches were cracking and falling off trees, and when I reached the Thruway, I began to see jackknifed tractor trailers and cars that had skidded off the road. Rain turned to swirling snow in minutes. I said a prayer and got off the highway as soon as possible. I made it to my son’s house 20 minutes before the mandatory driving ban went into effect.

What was supposed to be a brief visit with family for dinner on Christmas Eve, and the opening of presents on Christmas morning, turned into an unanticipated five-day stay. Six of us had to figure out how to peacefully co-exist in a house with two bedrooms and one bathroom. There was no possibility that the food ordered for the holiday festivities could be picked up or delivered, so we made the most of the groceries and beverages we had. My son’s fiancé had wanted us all to shelter under one roof, and I will be forever grateful for her insistence that we gather in their new home to take care of each other.

We woke to beautiful sunshine on Christmas morning. The storm was over and the clean-up could begin.
Those who had neighbors with snow blowers were the lucky ones.

All through the blizzard my son would go out and start our cars so the batteries wouldn’t die, clear snow from heating vents and exhaust pipes, and check on neighbors. The young woman across the street was due to deliver her baby any day and we were prepared to assist with the delivery if she was unable to get to the hospital. We checked on an elderly neighbor next door to make sure he had enough food and his heat was working. When the storm was over, we paid a local company to plow the driveways of several nearby homes.

Others relied on a team with snow shovels to help dig them out.

Buffalo is known as “The City of Good Neighbors” and stories of Good Samaritans helping others were abundant throughout Erie County, the hardest hit area in New York state. We were worried about my elderly father who was home alone in Clarence during the storm and unreachable by car, but a neighbor he barely knew knocked on the door, fixed his broken thermostat, cleared enough snow for my Dad’s dog to get out and do her business, and brought him meatloaf for dinner. Thanks to this stranger, we could all breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that my Dad had someone to turn to in an emergency.

The Buffalo Bills’ win on Christmas Eve brightened everyone’s spirits, and as the sun rose on Christmas morning I got to see a three-year-old open her presents amid squeals of delight and repeated thanks to Santa and Rudolph for making it through the storm. Four generations of my new family came together under trying circumstances to celebrate Christmas with kindness, generosity, patience, and good cheer. No doubt the story of the Christmas blizzard of 2022 will be shared with many future generations, and in our case it will be told with a deep sense of gratitude that our winter’s tale had a happy ending.  

There is nothing more precious than the face of a three-year-old on Christmas morning.

Do you have a story you would like to share about the winter storm of Christmas 2022? Good or bad, please share. We’ll be telling these stories for years to come because, like the famous Blizzard of 1977, this was one for the record books.

The clean-up will take time. Some are counting on this weekend’s rain and warm weather to wash away large mounds of snow.

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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

The Year I Met the Buffalo Bills

It was a beautiful summer day in early August, 1963. The Buffalo Bills, a young team that had been admitted into the American Football League just four years earlier, were wrapping up their annual summer training and getting ready for their first game of the season. The excitement in the city was palpable.

My Dad, a diehard fan of the team since day one, had seen an ad in the Buffalo Evening News for “Meet the Bills” day, with field events in the afternoon and an intra-squad game that evening. It was an opportunity to watch the veterans compete against the rookies, and to meet some of our hometown heroes. I was thrilled when Dad decided to take me to the event to get some autographs (FYI for those under 30, you couldn’t take a “group selfie” back in the day).

I was just a wee thing at the time, but I remember going to the old “rock pile,” otherwise known as War Memorial Stadium, a venue significantly smaller than the 70,000-seat Highmark Stadium in Orchard Park where the Bills play today. My Dad explained to me who everyone on the field was and what position they played, and pointed out who he considered to be the future superstars (as it turned out, he was right on most counts).

There was Lou Saban, Buffalo’s storied coach, on the field talking to players. Number 15, Jack Kemp, the quarterback, was warming up his arm, along with his back-up quarterback Daryle Lamonica. In the field events, Billy Shaw (a future Hall of Famer) and Pro-Bowler Tom Sestak would compete in the 50-yard dash for linemen. Cookie Gilchrist would show his stuff in the 50-yard dash for running backs, while Elbert Dubenion would compete against other receivers. It was really fun to watch Ed Rutkowski and Gene Sykes and other defensive backs compete in the 30-yard backward run. “They look good,” said my father, admiring the show. “This year they might go all the way.”

The list of field events for Meet the Bills day in 1963. Note that first prize in each category was $15!

After the competitions were over, we went down to the fence that surrounded the field where the players were signing autographs. There were lots of fans holding pieces of paper out to their favorites, like me hoping for an autograph. Many of the kids were big enough to play junior league football themselves, and I had a hard time pushing my way through the crowd and up to the fence, but my Dad put me on his shoulders and had no problem elbowing his way to the front. Then it was a matter of getting a player’s attention.

“Here’s how it done,” my Dad told me. “Hey, Jack Kemp!” he shouted. “If you’re not careful, you’ll have more blue freckles than brown ones with all these pens in your face.” Jack Kemp looked up, laughed, and signed my autograph book. “He’s not as good as Lamonica,” whispered Dad, searching the field in vain for his favorite Buffalo quarterback. Lamonica went on to star for the Oakland Raiders, and Kemp, despite not being my father’s fave, had several excellent seasons with the Bills and was awarded the AFL-MVP award in 1965. He later became a US Congressman and a Vice Presidential running-mate to Bob Dole, so I guess he was popular with some people.

Dad and I left “Meet the Bills” day bearing a half-dozen precious signatures and we watched every game that season on TV. (Dad hasn’t missed a Bills game yet.) The 1963 team ended with a 7-6-1 record and finished tied for first in the AFL East. In 1964 and 1965, they not only won their division but defeated the San Diego Chargers each year for the AFL championship. In 1966, they lost to the Kansas City Chiefs in the AFL title game and missed playing in the first Super Bowl. My young self was convinced we would win the Super Bowl the following year, but instead followed five years of mostly losses before the picture brightened again.

It has been nearly 60 years since I met my first Buffalo Bills. The team has had good seasons—even great seasons—including competing in four straight Super Bowls. They have had excellent coaches like Saban, Chuck Knox, and Marv Levy, and the current one, Sean McDermott, looks to be following in their footsteps. And of course they had superstar players in O.J. Simpson, Jim Kelly, Bruce Smith, Andre Reed, and Thurman Thomas. They’ve also had some terrible seasons, but at no time did I ever know a true Buffalonian to give up on the Bills.

As my Dad would say, there are no “fair weather fans” in Buffalo (OK—no jokes about no “fair weather” in Buffalo either). The view at the end of the season was always optimistic and “next year” was always going to be “our year.”

Now leading the charge for Buffalo is quarterback Josh Allen, a swoon-worthy young man who seems to be able to do it all. Having come close to reaching the summit of the league the previous two seasons, the Bills seem on track for another shot at glory. And there is talk all over Buffalo that “this year” will be the year our Bills will win the Super Bowl for the first time. If so, I plan to head back to Buffalo to get some autographs. Or at least a selfie.

Are you a Buffalo Bills fan and do you have a particular season you love to remember, or a favorite Bills player? Or have you, like some people, given up on the NFL altogether? I’d love to hear from you, 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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

How to Eat Pasta and Lose 10 Pounds

When I first saw the brochure for “A Walking Tour of Tuscany and the Italian Riviera” I danced my version of the Tarantella around the living room. To visit the land of Michelangelo and da Vinci, see the beautiful cities of Florence and Siena, eat great food, drink delicious wine, and get a little exercise in the bargain? What a dream! I watched “Under the Tuscan Sun” for the fourth time and packed my bags, eager for this exciting adventure.

The lovely Tuscan landscape. All photos by Moxie Gardiner.

Little did I know that this would not be a “walk” through these lovely regions of Italy, but a series of daily, fairly rigorous, four- to six-mile hikes that would have me clambering over boulders, huffing and puffing up winding hillsides and clinging to rock walls on the steep route down, all while trying to pause long enough to admire the spectacular views (and catch my breath).   

My fellow travelers came well prepared.

The folks in the group I was with were of “a certain age” and very fit, with more than one septuagenarian leaving me in the dust as we went over hill and dale together. They had obviously done more research on the many famous hiking trails in these two regions, equipped as these retirees were with trekking poles, Camelbaks, and other serious hiking gear.

Do you remember the expression, “all roads lead to Rome”?
I wished I had those trekking poles on this stretch.

We traveled on perhaps the best known of all the hiking trails in Tuscany, the Via Francigena, (the ancient pilgrimage route from Canterbury, England to Rome). Unlike hiking the more famous Camino de Santiago, we saw few people and no pilgrims (that I could tell) on this trail.

To the left and right of us was a bucolic landscape that must have looked very similar to when Sigeric the Serious (you gotta love that name), Archbishop of Canterbury, made his trek from England to Rome and back again in the year 990. The small towns and abbeys along the route prospered thereafter, thanks to the sore feet of many a weary traveler.

The foundation of the original Benedictine monastery at Sant’ Antimo dates to the time of Charlemagne. 

Our hikes along the Ligurian Coast (sometimes known as the Italian Riviera for its sandy beaches, clear waters, and chic hotels), though equally beautiful, were no walk in the park either.

Hiking along the Ligurian coast.

The first hike was from Santa Margherita Ligure to Portofino, playground of the rich and famous. We hugged the coast for half a mile with sunlight reflecting off the crystalline sea, found ourselves on a leafy path called the Passeggiato dei Baci (Walk of Kisses), took a quick tour of Portofino (too expensive for my West Sides tastes) and climbed the winding path to the lighthouse.  

Portofino, viewed from the lighthouse trail.
“Tough stairs and inclines” in the Cinque Terre.

That was challenging enough, but on the second-to-last day of the trip, we were to make the toughest trek yet, hiking the fourth and final section of The Blue Trail, the Sentiero Azzurro, which connects the five main villages of the Cinque Terre. The final section from Vernazza to Monterosso al Mare is billed as “challenging… with some tough stairs and inclines.” Tough? Challenging? There were several places where I feared for my life (being mostly worried about getting knocked off the narrow path by the hordes of tourists coming the other way). Fortunately, I didn’t injure my knee until the very last kilometer, and got a round of applause when I finally limped into the restaurant in Monterosso where the rest of the group was already halfway through lunch.

It was a rough, nearly vertical scramble, but this view of the Cinque Terre was worth it.

Rather than hike on the very last day, I opted for a full body massage in the hotel spa. It was possibly the best decision I made on the entire trip (if not in my entire life).

One of many pasta dishes I thoroughly enjoyed.

My Fitbit gave me a final tally at the end of the trip: 88 miles and 206,000 steps. Did I lose 10 pounds? Nah, but I easily could have, burning as I did an average of 3000 calories a day. I did lose some weight, and would have lost more if I hadn’t made a separate goal of trying a different gelato flavor in every small town I visited.

It would be criminal to pass up a place with a sign that reads “Gelato World Champion.”

Would I do it again? My goodness, yes! I jumped out of bed every morning, even on the days when I knew the trek would be hard. Would I try to do a better job of balancing intake (food) and outgo (exercise)? Doubtful. When in Italy, it is important to establish one’s priorities at the very outset. While experiencing a region known for outstanding food and wine, living la dolce vita (a sweet life of self-indulgence) was at the top of my list (even if only for a few days–sigh).

The Walk of Kisses. Only in Italy!

Now that the world is open to travel again, do you have a dream destination? Would you rather have an “active” vacation like this, or one of ease and relaxation? 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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

The Most Prestigious Club You Probably Never Heard Of

The imposing Charlotte Mulligan, founder of The Twentieth Century Club of Buffalo.

Tucked away a discrete distance from busy Delaware Avenue, and a stone’s throw from the famous Wilcox Mansion where Theodore Roosevelt was sworn in as President after the assassination of William McKinley, lies a stately Italian Renaissance-style structure that I suspect few people in Buffalo have ever noticed, let alone visited. It is the home of The Twentieth Century Club of Buffalo (or TCC), so named by its founder in 1894 to herald the arrival of a new century.[1]

What is interesting about the TCC, apart from its somewhat low profile, is that it is an all-womens’ organization, the second-oldest of its kind in the country. One might imagine that a club for women established in fin de siècle America — a time when floor-length dresses and lace mittens were still de rigueur — would be where the gentler sex gathered primarily to play cards and attend social events.

But what made this club unique and caused a stir at the time was that its founder, Charlotte Mulligan, a formidable woman of many accomplishments educated at Buffalo Seminary and president of the school’s Graduates Association, believed that women should be as well-informed and accomplished as men. Her vision was to establish a gathering place that provided the educated women of Buffalo with a wide range of literary, artistic, and musical pursuits after graduation.

The beautiful dining room, with its impressive columns and domed ceiling, has a stage for guest speakers.
I was treated to lunch in the South Loggia, bathed in the light of multi-colored glass windows.

I had the good fortune recently to have lunch at the TCC as a guest of its First Vice President/President-elect, Janice Worobec. In addition to sharing a brief history of the club, Janice offered me a tour of the elegant facility, still imbued with its nineteenth century charm and now on the National Register of Historic Places. Unlike many of the mansions on Delaware Ave, the building still boasts its original façade, mission, and tenant though the club has changed. “While keeping many traditions, members are cognizant that social clubs such as ours must evolve in order to remain relevant in today’s world,” explained Janice. She describes today’s members as “eclectic.”

Over the years, the 128-year-old Club has hosted an impressive list of speakers and notables, including First Ladies, foreign ministers, and royalty. It sponsored a number of social events associated with the 1901 Pan American Exposition and entertained visitors ranging from Vice President (at the time) Theodore Roosevelt, to Booker T. Washington and a Chinese Minister. During the two world wars, TCC members assisted the Red Cross with everything from first aid classes to surgical supplies, and invited speakers like the Vicomtesse de Rancougne to give a talk about her experiences at the front, and Randolph Churchill (son of Winston) to speak on “Europe Today.”

The TCC library.
(All blog photos by Moxie Gardiner.)

For me, as a writer and gardener, my lunchtime visit held two aspects of particular interest—the literature program and the garden. Since the Club’s inception, the Literary Committee has invited a wide array of impressive lecturers, including Robert Frost who offered thoughts on poetry, Thorton Wilder who gave a presentation on “Motion Pictures and Literature,” and many others, including such luminaries as Clifton Fadiman, Lillian Hellman, and Margaret Bourke-White. The Club also boasts a lending library established in 1896 which contains books from Charlotte Mulligan’s personal collection, a few first editions, and books on a wide array of topics befitting the scope of its members’ interests.

The garden, on the other hand, was not part of Ms. Mulligan’s original vision but was conceived when buildings behind the Club on Franklin Street were conveniently demolished. A garden committee was formed and to this day its members donate the plantings for an annual display that changes from fall to spring. The day I visited in early fall, this hidden bower was awash with colorful chrysanthemums, autumn joy sedum, coleus, and geraniums, accompanied by the cheerful sounds of a splashing fountain.

The club’s motto, Facta Probant, i.e., “Let Deeds Tell,” is seen here on the archway to the right.

Since its inception, the Club has suffered fires, financial difficulties, and a Supreme Court challenge over its all-woman membership policy in 1988, but it has endured. Is an all-womens’ club an anachronism in today’s world? That is not for me to judge. But I know that a club that promotes literature and the arts in Buffalo is not an idea past its time. I hope it will prosper well into the next century.

Are you a member of The Twentieth Century Club of Buffalo or one similar to it? What do you like best about yours? Or maybe you’re not a fan of clubs, but in favor of promoting literature and the arts? I’d love to hear 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. She is almost ready to publish her first novel, set in Buffalo.

[1] To commemorate its 125th Anniversary in 2019, the Twentieth Century Club published an updated chronology and history of the club, which was of great help in informing this blog.