Provincialism will be the death of us

A house divided against itself cannot stand. Lincoln knew it. Jesus knew it. It’s time for this area to figure it out.

I got a press release last week from the Buffalo International Film Festival. The subject line on the press release was “Buffalo International Film Festival is not Buffalo Niagara Film Festival.” Apparently there are two competing film festivals in the Buffalo area and they want to make sure you know that they’re not “those other guys.”

The Buffalo International Film Festival started in 2004 as an effort to promote cultural tourism through movies. Its goal was to encourage film producers to consider Western New York as a backdrop. It’s a good group ... with a good goal. They’re proud of Buffalo and they think it should be showcased to the world.

But their email was a bit snarky for my tastes — especially for a press release. The line that really caught me off guard was “Apparently the ‘City of Buffalo’ is no longer identifiable to the average person as ‘Buffalo.’ Nor is the ‘City of Niagara Falls’ a proudly identifiable city: Buffalo and Buffalo-Niagara seem to have become synonyms.”

What’s wrong with that? Why can’t we just all be Buffalo? There’s nothing wrong with being proud of being from Lockport or Pekin or the Tonawandas or Ridgeway or whatever. I was born in Lewiston. I grew up in the Town of Niagara. I live in the City of Lockport. But I’m a Buffalonian. And if you’re reading this in “one of the eight counties of Western New York,” you should be, too.

Last week Niagara County Legislator Rick Updegrove raised a stink because — at Yahoo!’s request — the company will be donating $3.5 million to the Community Foundation of Greater Buffalo over the next seven years.

Updegrove said, “While I certainly appreciate the fact that Buffalo is facing its share of challenges, the reality is that we need to look at a fair and equitable disbursement of those funds so that the people of Niagara County may also benefit.”

What the majority caucus leader meant was: “There’s money. It should be all ours.”

We have free live music almost every night throughout the summer in Western New York. Lockport, Tonawanda, Lewiston, Buffalo. Free music abounds. But rather than trying to promote this unique feature of Western New York, these communities fight with each other — as if what’s prevented Tonawanda from breaking free of the recession of the 1990s is Art Park.

One of the things that prevents us from moving forward is our refusal to do it together. Rather than allowing any rising tide to lift all boats, we try to drown each other in an effort to keep our own heads above water.

I’ve never liked the phrase “Upstate New York.” I don’t remember it growing up. We were “Western New York” and in my mind we still are. I’d prefer, though, that we simply replace “Western New York” with “Buffalo.” Until we do that, we might as well be West Virginia. Or North Dakota. Or any other number of places that the rest of the world doesn’t care about.

Scott Leffler is a father, a writer and a Buffalonian. In that order. Follow his tweets @scottleffler.

Can't beat a weekend of food, folks and fun

Amongst my many varied likes are tasty food, cold beer and cute brunettes. Not necessarily in that order.

So you can only begin to imagine my delight when I was granted a weekend jam-packed with all three.

This past weekend, I was honored to be able to serve as a judge for the pierogi contest at Buffalo's Dozynki festival on Saturday. I was also fortunate enough to judge appetizers at The Taste of Lockport on Sunday.

The weekend began normally enough - waiting for my girlfriend to get out of the bathroom. (Seriously, girls, what do you do in there and why does it take so long? Every man in America is dying to know).

Then we packed up the kids and headed to North Tonawanda for the Thunder on the Niagara jet boat races, which I knew would be a real treat for my girlfriend — who probably took 1,000 pictures of the boats— and her son — because what six year old boy doesn't want to watch jet boats race?

After we got our fill of jet boats (and the kids got their fill of PB&J), we headed to the heart of Buffalo for the Dozynki Harvest Festival at Corpus Christi Church where I saw some old friends, did some 12-ounce curls, and feasted on pierogi in an incredibly wide variety of flavors from standard sauerkraut to cheeseburger (with all the fixings). I was one of 20 judges for the pierogi contest and while it was certainly fun, in honesty, it wasn’t easy because there was not a single bad pierogi amongst the offerings. In all honestly, some were simply more awesome than others.

My favorite pierogi of the day a beef on weck created by Brian Marek. Sadly, our table didn’t get a chance to try the top vote getter in the non-traditional category, a reuben pierogi. But I had a reuben pierogi last year and can understand why it would win.

After pierogi, we bowled at the Corpus Christi Club across the street from the church. I won, of course, (with a measly 120) but Heather and the kids did great, too. Then we trekked back to Lockport to rest up for day two of my great Western New York eat-a-thon.

Sunday had been planned out for months. I took the night off work so I could spend it serving as Heather’s tag-along, carrying coffee, protecting her from her adoring fans and whatever other odd jobs I’d be given. Heather is, among other things, co-president of the Lockport Business Association, which oversees the Taste of Lockport.

However, early last week I secured a spot as a judge in the appetizer category of the Taste, a role I’ve served in a few times since the Taste began just over a decade ago. So what had been planned as a day of me following my girlfriend around became another day of hard labor, forcing down delicious goodies.

As was the case the day before, I can honestly say that there wasn’t a single poor offering put in front of me as a judge. There were some offerings, however, that were more spectacular than others. My personal favorite was a meatball on a stick from Middleport’s Alternative Grounds Caffe.

After the judging, there was some walking, more eating, and of course, washing all those tasty morsels down with cold beer. It was such a hard day.

Between Dozynki and the Taste, I ran into far too many people to even begin to name drop without leaving people out and offending, so I won’t. But it’s always nice to get out and see people — especially those I haven’t seen in a year or more.

Sadly, I missed the Erie County Fair this year — one of my favorite annual pilgrimages — but with so many other things going on, I barely missed it.

Scott Leffler is a professional food taster and an amateur columnist — at least in some people's eyes. Follow him on Twitter @scottleffler where he can name drop at will.

Random scary thoughts for the day

The world got a little scarier Monday - and not because it was Halloween. Scientific projections estimate that planet Earth welcomed it 7 billionth concurrent citizen yesterday. That’s a whole lot of of people. Heck, 7 billion is a whole lot of anything. But especially people. 

Think of all those potential voters (and taxpayers)!

I read a piece by CNN’s Bob Greene the other day talking about addiction to electronic devices. He indicates that if your smart phone sleeps in the same room with you, you may have an addiction. I have to confess, I’m guilty of that. I think it comes from living alone.

You may recall about  year and a half ago, I wrote a column relaying my glee with having signed up for cable (actually satellite) television service. Recently we decided to take a break. We didn’t break up, really, but we’re seeing other people - or something like that. 

Having lived in my apartment in Tonawanda since last April, I finally decided I couldn’t live without dedicated internet service. I was using my cell phone as a modem when I needed to log on, but it got tedious and I needed something faster. Unfortunately, in order to do that, I had to scrap TV. I can only afford so many non-essentials, after all.

I’m going on a month without television. And I don’t miss it all that much. I’ve found other things to occupy my time and other ways to watch the things I absolutely don’t want to miss. I’ve also found that I have very little desire to watch the Bills. The Bills won 23-0 on Sunday and I missed every second of it. And I didn’t miss a second of it. 

Speaking of the Bills, I see they have a new idea on how to hold the area hostage, wanting  the state and Erie County to pay for significant improvements to their current stadium in Orchard Park in exchange for the team promising to stay in Orchard Park.

Gee, so they’ll stay our friend if we pay them? That’s what it sounds like to me.

Personally, I’d consider this deal if the team actually wanted to play in Buffalo. But the city has very little - if any - economic benefit to home games being played in the Southtowns.

I have nothing against the Bills. I’ve been a fan since birth. Kind of. But the economic blackmailing being done by one of the richest men in Western New York is atrocious. The fact that anyone is considering it, is worse.

This deal is exactly the type of thing that the Occupy movement is about. There should be no doubt that Ralph Wilson is one of the richest guys in the area. And he’s going to make sure to stay that way by forcing us to pay for his stadium upgrade. He gets to stay rich and we have the privilege of having a football team. 

I can’t wait for the politicians to tell us what a great deal this is for us. Thank God there’s 7 billion people on planet earth now to help us pay for it. 

Are we missing the obvious?

Another summer has come and passed. I hope you all got out there and took advantage of all that Western New York has to offer.

I spent most of the unofficial last weekend of summer eating, first at a family gathering and then at the 10^th Annual National Buffalo Wing Festival.

I've gone to the chicken wing festival for several years now. And it always amazes me that there are these businesses around the world that make money – and lots of it – off of chicken wings. An entire industry, if you will, exists because of something that happened right here in Buffalo. And although wings remain a “Buffalo thing,” there are restaurants all across America that make Buffalo (and our wings) their specialty. 

Each restaurant seems to have their niche. Many seem to go for the hottest wing possible. Others go for different and unusual flavors. But they all recognize that Buffalo is the chicken wing capital of the world. 

For decades, people have recognized Buffalo as the birthplace of chicken wings. In fact, many parts of the country refer to them as “Buffalo wings.” 

But it took a somewhat obscure movie starring Bill Murray – who went to a fictional chicken wing festival in Buffalo - and a newspaper column asking why said chicken wing festival didn't really exist to make Drew Cerza, AKA the “Wing King,” stand up and say, “Why don't we celebrate this birthright of ours? Why don't we have a festival dedicated to chicken wings?”

And so, 10 years ago the National Buffalo Wing Festival was born. It's grown each year, attracting more and more media attention to one of the things that we do right. TV cameras from every major news organization were in town, showing Buffalo on a hot summer day instead of the standard blizzard footage they all seem to show every time Buffalo is mentioned.

For the fifth year in a row, yesterday, Sonya “Black Widow” Thomas won the chicken wing eating championship. This year she did it in style, eating 183 wings in 12 minutes, setting a new world record. I couldn't eat 183 wings in a week, let alone 12 minutes. 

Thomas' feat will no doubt bring even further attention to Buffalo. 

Good for us.

The whole thing makes me wonder, though; If we were so oblivious to not have a chicken wing festival one of the things we're most famous for, what else are we forgetting? What other obvious highlights, attractions and local oddities are we forgetting to promote? 

The rest of the world thinks of Buffalo as “the place where snow comes from.” But we have so many things to offer the world. From art and music to architecture and industry, Western New York has so much to be proud of. 

Which of you will be the next Drew Cerza? Which of you will be the next person to realize that there's something we need share with the world – and bring it to fruition?

* A side note: There was a “Ridiculously Hot Wing Eating Championship. The winner ate 20 of them in the least amount of time. I tried one of those hot wings from Hurricane Grill and Wings. My ears literally hurt and I was dizzy. They were impressive. And painful.

Home is family

I met a guy from Pittsburgh on a train a couple weeks ago.

We were both headed to Buffalo's inner harbor on the mostly-useless Metro Rail to see a concert.

I'm not even sure how the fact that he was from Pittsburgh came up, but it did. He had just moved from Pennsylvania to Buffalo a couple weeks prior. And he had already decided he hated it.

I have to assume he moved here for a job. Or a girl. Really that's the only two reasons to move from one area to another – money or love. And I really hoped it was for a girl since the jobs here are scarce enough as they are without people from Pittsburgh moving here to take them.

I was really irritated, though, that someone could move into our fair city and talk trash about it. We Western New Yorkers are aware of our shortcomings. We don't need someone from Pennsylvania pointing them out to us.

Being a Western New Yorker comes with it certain privileges, like the ability to complain about it. And, of course, we do plenty of it.

We spend a large portion of the year complaining about the weather and the snow, but when anyone outside of Buffalo mentions how much snow we get, they become public enemy number one.

Is this disingenuous of us? Or is it just the way things work?

I visited Pittsburgh a few years ago. I was mostly unimpressed. Pittsburgh is Buffalo. It's also Cleveland. It's any struggling northern town, really. Pittsburgh just wants to make it through to the end of the day so it can start over tomorrow in hopes of getting it right.

Really, that's how I view Western New York. We're a collection of people with certain commonalities … including the need to wear mittens four months out of the year … and the desire to just get through the day.

I had considered that maybe because of the similarities between Pittsburgh and Buffalo it's okay that the guy on the train complained. Then I dismissed that thought.

See, it's a family thing. Just as we are allowed to gripe about our own families, but would defend them vigorously to anyone not part of that family … I feel the same about Buffalo. If the guy on the train wanted to complain about his family, so be it, but he was trashing mine.

Maybe it would have irritated me less had he had less valid points. The truth hurts, though.

I've never lived in the City of Buffalo. But that's where I tell people from out of town I'm from. I used to say Niagara Falls, but my world view has grown, apparently. Of course, to anyone from Niagara County, I tell them I'm not from Niagara Falls. I'm from the Town of Niagara. And now I make it a point to tell people I live in the City of Tonawanda. Not N.T. And not the town.

Sure the City of Tonawanda has some flaws. But I'd never let someone from Amherst tell me what they are.

And I'd certainly never let someone from Pennsylvania tell me what Amherst's flaws are. Them's fightin' words.

Taking joy in watching King James be dethroned

Growing up a Bills and Sabres fan, I've never had the opportunity to see my team win it all. And seldom do I even get to see my team in the big game. Sure there was that nice little stint in the 90s with the Bills, but for the most part, I find myself watching two teams I could care less about.

Certain life circumstances have caused me to follow baseball and basketball, too. In typical fashion, I've chosen loser teams in those sports as well. In baseball, it's the Washington Nationals. And on the hard court, it's the New York Knicks. So again, come the end of the season, I'm watching two teams I don't care about and usually, I decide to root for the team I dislike less.

Almost always, though, I'm rooting for a team instead of against a team. There are exceptions, however, as was the case in this year's NBA Finals. I have no love for the Dallas Mavericks. But an intense dislike – I'll stop short of saying hatred – of the Miami Heat.

Truth is, I only started watching basketball – even casually – a couple of years ago. And it was basically against my will. But I watched. And grew to not hate it. I moved over to full-fledged liking last year when I was taken to a Knicks game at Madison Square. Seeing the game up close and in person in one of the world's greatest arenas gave me an appreciation I previously lacked.

I watched with great interest last summer as “The Decision” played out on live TV. Any basketball fan knows what I'm talking about, but for the majority of you who likely don't, it was a live television special in which Cleveland Cavaliers all-star LeBron James announced he'd be leaving his hometown team and hightailing it to Miami in order to win a championship.

As a former Clevelander, I felt bad for my friends who still lived there and were fans of the Cavs. Surely, for them, they felt deserted by “King James.” He left his fans in search of a championship ring. Understandable, I suppose, but it was just another blow for Cleveland, who in so many ways is just like Buffalo.

So it was with great intensity that I watched the NBA playoffs this year, hoping to see LeBron James get his comeuppance. Surely, God would not reward a traitor such as him.

With the Knicks knocked out in the first round, my only real pleasure could come from Miami losing. But rounds came and went and Miami was still in it, besting Philadelphia, Boston and Chicago to make it to the Finals. And I got nervous.

In the end teamwork and true character won out over talent and ego.

Watching Miami lose game six to Dallas wasn't nearly as enjoyable as it would have been to watch the Sabres win a Stanley Cup. But it was pleasurable, nonetheless.

Sometimes life's grand pleasures escape you and you have to enjoy the little ones all that much more.

For right now, schadenfreude will have to do.  

Pay-for-parking is the American way

I hate paying to park.

I'd rather park farther away and walk.

When I go to festivals in the area, I always try to find a spot on a street somewhere, even if that street is a very healthy walk from the festival. I usually walk the farthest for Allentown.

On the occasion when I'm lucky enough to go to a Sabres or Bisons game, I'll park in the second ring of parking, where it's half of what it costs to park right next to the arena or stadium. And still that costs as much as $10 sometimes.

It seems to me that paying $10 to rent out a parking space for a few hours is highway robbery.

It's a downright mugging to charge as much as $60 for those same spaces, which is exactly what parking lot owners near HSBC have been charging during the World Junior Hockey Tournament.

People are complaining. And Buffalo Mayor Byron Brown is calling for an investigation into the matter.

As much as I abhor taking advantage of a situation, what they're doing is not only legal, but the basis for our entire economy.

It's a free market system. Private parking lot owners can ask for as much as they like. It only becomes worth the asking price if people pay it. And people are paying by the carload.

We don't think anything of paying double, triple or more for a hotel when we go at “peak times.” We understand that plane tickets cost more during the holidays and gas is always most expensive on Fridays. We know that there's a significant markup on food when we go out to eat. So why is this parking thing such an issue?

The popular thought out there seems to be that it's just not fair to charge people that much, especially if we're trying to entice them to come to our city. Yes, I said “our city.” Buffalo is our city, no matter what your postal code may be.

If you've ever had to park in Manhattan, Toronto, Washington, DC, or any one of a number of other big cities, you'll recall that parking wasn't cheap. It was a downright mugging.

Actually, I literally got robbed once parking in DC, but that's another issue altogether.

Have you ever considered going to one of those cities and then decided not to because parking was too much? I can't imagine too many people would say yes. It's the cost of doing business. It's the cost of going on vacation. And who are we to tell parking lot owners in Buffalo can't make a healthy profit for a couple weeks?

If the argument is that we Western New Yorkers shouldn't have to pay that much to park, your point is completely moot. The NFTA offers a variety of ways to get to HSBC. If you'd rather pay $60 than take Metro Bus or Rail, then you've decided – although maybe begrudgingly – that the $60 is worth it.

Me? I'll just avoid the area altogether until after the World Juniors is over. I couldn't afford the tickets anyway. Which, I might point out, are considerably more expensive than, say, Disney on Ice Tickets. Why? Free market economy. It's just how it works.

Complaining about it could be considered un-American.

Its snow fun making yourself look stupid ...

Bragging never works the way you want it to. It always comes back to bite you.

Since the snow hit last week, I've been telling everyone, “I don't have any,” with a somewhat smug smile like the one I watched George W. Bush wear for eight years.

Everywhere I went, there was snow on the roads and people's lawns. There was ice on the driveways, slush in the parking lots and general winter unpleasantness. My daily commute began with dry pavement and green grass. But as I passed through Amherst, I saw snow on the trees and all along the grass on the 990. As I entered Lockport, there seemed to be snow everywhere. Granted, it wasn't a lot of of snow. Nothing we couldn't handle. But snow nonetheless. And as I mentioned, “I don't have any.”

I fell asleep on the couch Sunday night as I admired the glow that came off of our new Christmas tree. There was Christmas music on the radio and I was very much feeling the Christmas spirit, as I've mentioned before that I often do.

Monday morning, however … Bah, humbug. What's with all this white stuff outside? My happy little paradise of green grass and dry roads had gotten covered in snow overnight. And my first thought? Not that I'd have to warm my car up. Not that I'd have to brush it off. Not that this would add another 10 minutes to my commute. Nope. My first thought was that I'd have to eat some crow from all the “I don't have any's,” that I've been telling people.

Then it occurred to me that I'd have to start the car early and it would take more time to get to work. And that simply compounded my braggadocios dilemma.

Of course, it's just a little snow and living in Buffalo, we pride ourselves on our ability to deal with the snow. Heck, it could snow three feet in a day and that wouldn't slow us down. Right?

Well, a week ago I would have said as much … before that debacle on the Thruway last week where motorists got stranded for the better part of a day while government officials did their best to look like Keystone Cops. The thought that a little snow not only slowed us down, but stopped us altogether is a bit humbling.

I'm all-too-familiar with that particular tract of pavement where the Thruway became a parking lot. I used to drive it daily. And when the snow hit, I told everyone I knew, “I'm just glad that's not part of my daily commute anymore.”

I'd then add, “I don't have any.”

And just like Buffalo as a whole lost the right to be self-righteous about dealing with the snow last week, I lost my right to be self-righteous about not having to deal with the snow as Sunday turned into Monday.

After all, bragging never works the way you want it to. It always comes back to bite you.

Scott Leffler, xenophobe

Every so often, I have an “aha” moment. Just such a moment occurred this past weekend when I realized that I am, indeed, part of the problem.

My friends at WNYMedia.net recently had a NCAA-style bracket tournament to determine who is most responsible for the regional failure in Western New York. And the answer was us. That's right. Us.

When the results came out, I said to myself, “Yeah, 'us' collectively, but I'm not to blame.”

But my “aha” moment told me I was wrong. I hate being wrong. And even more so, I hate being part of the problem. So I'm going to work to fix it.

I've always said one of our biggest problems in Western New York is the provincialism displayed by our elected leaders. They all have their fiefdoms and they refuse to work with other communities for the betterment of the entire region.

I've even called out non-politician friends for showing the same type of provincialism.

For example, I've complained to friends from Lockport dozens of times about what seems to be a common interest in the city: Never leaving Lockport.

“The world does not end at the county line,” I've said repeatedly over the last decade.

I enjoy a particular watering hole in West Seneca. I don't go there as often as I used to, but when I did, I would have people ask my why I go “all the way to West Seneca for a beer.”

When I lived in Ohio, I traveled 54 miles one way to work. An hour there. An hour back. Every day. Five days a week. So a half an hour drive to go to “my bar” doesn't seem like a big deal to me.

This past weekend, I took the kids to the “Buffalo Pizza Fest” in the Marriott on the Millersport Highway. It happens to be Amherst right there. Based on the reactions on a local website, people were offended that the “Buffalo Pizza Fest” was held in Amherst - outside of Buffalo.

I thought this reaction was silly. I mean, it's all Buffalo, isn't it?

And that's when I had my “aha” moment. I've been guilty of the same thing.

You see, I grew up in the Town of Niagara. When I would tell people this, they would say, “Oh. Niagara Falls.” I have always been quick to correct them. The Town of Niagara is most certainly not Niagara Falls, I would explain.

Oddly enough, when I was in Ohio, I would tell people I was from Niagara Falls. Those who were familiar with a map would say, “Oh, I didn't know you were from Buffalo.” And I would correct them as well. Niagara Falls is not Buffalo.

Why didn't I want people thinking I was from Niagara Falls? Is the Town of Niagara somehow better than the City of Niagara Falls? Is the City of Niagara Falls somehow better than the City of Buffalo?

The clearcut and obvious answer to both questions is, “no.”
We're all in the same boat together. Niagara Falls and Lockport. Buffalo and West Seneca. Tonawanda and North Tonawanda. And yet we act like the border to each and every single community in Western New York is the Mason-Dixon line.

There's nothing wrong with civic pride. But the xenophobia reflected in this region is the wrong kind of pride. Until our civic pride overlaps our community borders, we're all part of the problem.

And I'm not going to do it anymore.

From now on, I'll be from Niagara Falls – even though I grew up in the Town of Niagara. I'll be from Buffalo – even though I live in Tonawanda. And I'll do my best to remember that we're all collectively from Western New York.