Can’t get away from the news

I’ve been on vacation since last Friday.

As part of that vacation, I intended on unplugging from work completely. Since work is the news, I have tried to not pay attention. I don’t want to go into unintentional copy editor mode. I don’t want to be driven to think of a local angle for an international story. And I don’t want to mentally plan follow-ups to unanswered questions I may have.

I’ve never understood when I try to talk to people about a current events topic and they make a claim that sounds something like, “I don’t pay attention to the news.”

How is that even possible? I’m even more perplexed by it after the last week — as I intentionally tried to not pay attention to the news and was bombarded by it nonetheless.

Case in point: There I was minding my own business Monday night. Just sitting on my porch watching the drama that is my neighborhood, texting the girl about life … and she says, “Topic change. Syria.”

Seriously? I don’t want to think about Syria. I’m on vacation. But foreign policy riles me up and I had no choice but to take the bait. And as such, we talked about U.S. foreign policy for an hour or so.

Second example: There I was minding my own business Wednesday morning. Just sitting on my couch perusing my Facebook feed … and I run across a local news story posted by one of my Facebook friends. No! I tried covering my eyes and not reading it. But it didn’t work. Suckered into the news once again.

There are numerous other examples, I assure you. But those were the most heinous.

When I get back to work on Sunday, I’ll have to first sit down and read a week’s worth of papers, catching up on all the things I undoubtedly missed. But I have a feeling there won’t be that many surprises. Because whether I want to or not, I’m constantly connected. Which, again, is how I don’t understand how people can say they don’t pay attention to the news.

•••

One other thought as my summer vacation comes to an end is that so do my girls’ summer vacations as they head back to school next week.

I know most parents have been counting down to kids going back to school and getting out of their hair, but I’m not really looking forward to it. It’s been nice to have them around the house when I’m actually home; working nights makes it difficult to spend quality time with “the kidses.”

So with school back in session and me back at work, I’ll start counting down to our next vacation — when I can hang out with the kids and try to ignore the news.

Scott Leffler is a news junkie and father to the most incredible daughters — listed in reverse order of importance. Follow him on twitter @scottleffler.

Too much of a good thing is scary

In my opinion, I’m a good citizen. I think America is a great country and I feel lucky to have been born here. I love fireworks and draught beer and apple pie. And the sight of the American flag swells me with pride.

But … there comes a point where patriotism becomes nationalism. And that scares the heck out of me.

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with waving the American flag and cheering on our interests and working towards the best for the good ol’ U. S. of A. But wrapping yourself in it and shaming others for not doing so isn’t the least bit patriotic. In fact, it’s downright wrong.

This is a great country that we live in. And we do a lot of great things for ourselves and the rest of the world. We should revel in that and shout from the rooftops the great things that we do. We should all be proud of our endeavors in fighting world hunger and poverty. We should be ecstatic over our scientific accomplishments that have helped all of humanity.

Unfortunately, however, I find that we tend to rally around the wrong things. We rally around war. Death brings us together. Consider the fact that all of our national holidays are centered around war.

This past Sunday I stood along East Avenue in Lockport watching the Memorial Day parade — an annual event put together to honor the soldiers who have given their all in battle to keep this country safe. It was a great reason to be proud to be an American.

I watched as politicians walked by. Police. Firefighters. Girl Scouts. Boy Scouts. Bands. Dance troupes. All grinning from ear to ear, proud to be Americans. There was even a group from Thorold, Ontario — but American by choice … at least for the day.

But alas, too much of a good thing. A sign put me over the edge. Maybe you were there and saw it. Maybe you thought nothing of it. Maybe it irked you, too.

“IF YOU DON’T STAND BEHIND *** OUR TROOPS *** PLEASE STAND IN FRONT OF THEM”

Maybe I’m touchy but here’s my breakdown of the sign: “If you don’t stand behind our troops” is really a way of saying “If you don’t support the war — any war” … and “Please stand in front of them” can easily be construed as “take bullets for them” or “sacrifice yourself.” An uglier interpretation could be “kill yourself.”

I’ve seen variations of this sign as bumper stickers for years. It’s nationalism parading as patriotism. It’s crass on a bumper sticker. It’s disgraceful in a Memorial Day parade.

To those of you thinking I’m overreacting or misinterpreting, please tell me what you think the sign means. I’d love to be wrong. But I don’t think I am.

Scott Leffler supports the troops. That’s why he wants them brought home. Today. Send him nasty-grams or notes of agreement on twitter @scottleffler. Or feel free to write a letter to the editor.

Ringing in the Christmas season right

I went to a tree-lighting ceremony Friday night and a parade Saturday. Plus I watched Christmas movies almost non-stop. But for some reason I just couldn’t get into the Christmas spirit.

Until it snowed.

The snow Sunday morning put me over the top and I am now officially in Christmas mode. I want Christmas movies and Christmas music and Christmas decorations. And basically, I want Christmas. Now. And forever.

I’m not entirely sure what it is that makes me such a Christmas fanatic. Maybe it’s a longing for my childhood. Maybe it’s just a desire for the innocence that comes with Christmas. Whatever it is, it’s always been this way. I love Christmas.

Truth of the matter is, I’m a Christmas geek all year round. Those that know me know that one of the best ways to tell if I’m in a good mood is to listen for me whistling Christmas music in the middle of the summer. Ding Dong Merrily on High and whatnot.

There’s not an aspect of Christmas that I don’t like. I want to put the tree up. I want to cover my art in Christmas wrapping. I want to go shopping. I want to put my Christmas ducks in the bathroom. As soon as humanly possible.

Of course, as any responsible adult, I wait until the day after Thanksgiving. This year that was earlier than most and I took full advantage.

Saturday afternoon I did nothing but watch Christmas movies with my daughters. One after another. After another. We continued the trend through the weekend, watching Home Alone, Home Alone 2, Jingle All the Way and National Lampoons Christmas Vacation, among others.

My memories of Christmas growing up are somewhat scant. Of course, I remember a couple presents here and there. I remember waiting with my dad for everyone else to wake up. And I remember family coming for dinner — or on a few occasions us going there. But I wish I remembered more.

My only hope is that my girls remember Christmas. And our Christmas traditions. First and foremost, I hope they remember that we loved each other. Because, really, that’s what the Christmas season is all about — loving each other, despite our differences. And despite any problems we might have the rest of the year.

I find it somewhat ironic that Christmas essentially begins on one of my least favorite days — Thanksgiving. I know, most people seem to love Thanksgiving, although I have no idea why.

I hosted Thanksgiving this year, and I’m told I did a good job. I hope that’s a for-real thing and not just people being nice because of it being the Christmas season.

You should be nice during the Christmas season, of course. That means now through the end of the year.

Of course, you should be nice all year long. But it seems so much easier this time of year. Maybe that’s because Santa is coming. Or maybe it just is what it is.

Either way, I hope your Christmas season is off to a great start.

Scott Leffler loves Christmas. If you have a problem with that, you can tell him @scottleffler on Twitter.

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.

We’ve come a long way, but we’re not there yet

It’s been nearly 50 years since Martin Luther King Jr. said, “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” 

The “I Have a Dream” speech laid out a dramatic vision calling for not only racial equality, but an end to discrimination.

We’ve come a long way since, but we’re not all the way there yet. Every day people are still judged by the color of their skin, the flow of their walk and the style of their clothes. 

I’m lucky enough to work at night when no one comes into the office. The day shift has to look presentable to the public, but I have no such requirement, so some days I may not be as polished as others. I wear what’s comfortable and warm — or cool, depending on the weather.

I wear hats — a lot. I have many friends who have most likely never seen me without a hat on. Oftentimes, I coordinate my outfit for the day based on what hat I want to wear. The primary reason I wear them is because I like them. But there’s another deeper reason. When I was much younger, I was told that no one that wears a hat amounts to anything. That sounded like a challenge to me. I’ve worn a hat ever since.

I wore a hooded sweatshirt to work on Monday. It’s not uncommon for me to wear a hoodie to work — especially on days when the high reaches a mere 38 degrees. 

I don’t usually wear my clothing as a statement, but Monday was different. I wore my hoodie as a sign of solidarity with Trayvon Martin and those like him who have been labeled by society to be thugs and hoodlums, in large part because of their hooded sweatshirts.

Monday night I went to a vigil for Trayvon, the 17-year-old high school student who was shot and killed on Feb. 26 by George Zimmerman, a self-appointed neighborhood watch captain. Martin’s biggest offense from what I’ve gleaned from media reports over the last month: He wore a hoodie.

I was one of about 100 people at the vigil, candles lit, sitting silent, listening to Mark Sanders, pastor of Refuge Temple of Christ in Lockport as he quoted King himself and said, “I don’t remember when it became a crime to wear a certain piece of clothing.”

Sanders pointed out that while this all may have been new to some of us, for many in the crowd it was a long-dealt-with issue. 

Sanders said, “I don’t have all the details. I just know that something stinks.”

I don’t have all the details on the slaying of Trayvon Martin either, but I will tell you that I believe it was a slaying. From what I can piece together, he was hunted down and shot — primarily for wearing a hoodie. And being black.

We’ve come a long way since 1963. We’re not there yet, but outpourings like the one I saw on Monday night are helping us to get there.

Don't wait to be productive

I’ve always been a bit of a night person. It started in college when I would stay up all hours of the night — doing homework. Or something.

I’ve gone back and forth between day jobs and night jobs since then. My current job sees me leave work around 2 in the morning. I go home, putz around on the Internet, have something to eat, drink some coffee and finally head to bed around 5.

Some nights, though, I feel like being productive. Such was the case Sunday night as I sat in my new kitchen and stared at the walls in disgust. That wallpaper was the ugliest thing ever.

I say “was” because at 2:30 Monday morning (to me it’s still Sunday night, though), I got out a step stool and started peeling wallpaper. I only intended to do a corner as a test — to see how easily the wallpaper came down. To my delight, it peeled off the wall quite easily. The problem with that, though, was that I just kept peeling. Instead of doing a corner, I did three whole walls and part of a fourth. By the time you read this, all that horrible wallpaper will be down. And some time next week, I’ll consider painting.

Every day I add items to my to-do list. Most days I mark items off my to-do list. Some days I even do those tasks before marking them done.

The new apartment means a constantly evolving to do list. As soon as I accomplish one task, it occurs to me that two others need done. I should name my to-do list Hydra.

One of the myriad problems that comes with being a night person is that many of the things on my to-do list simply can’t be done at night. Sure, I can do dishes and laundry, but I can’t really hang the shelves that I need to. And I’m pretty sure my downstairs neighbor might be a touch upset if I vacuumed. I can shop for groceries, but banking at 4 in the morning doesn’t work so well.

I met another neighbor on Sunday. He was doing some spring cleaning and I took the opportunity to go say “hi.” I introduced myself the same way I always do: “Scott.” We talked for a bit and then he glanced at my license plate. For those who don’t know, it says “LEFFLER.”

My neighbor turns to me and says, “There used to be a Scott Leffler.”

I love the way he phrased it. “There used to be ...” Of course, I told him there still is and I am, in fact, the same Scott Leffler that used to be. As it turns out, he knows my name from my radio days. Also, I know his daughter. That happens a lot — both the radio thing and the daughter thing.

But not to worry dads, I’m not looking. I’m pretty content with my girlfriend — who at 4 o’clock Monday morning was dying her hair.

Big game is not a big priority

I may not watch the Super Bowl this year.

The truth of the matter is I just don’t care that much about the game. The Patriots and the Giants are two of my least favorite teams ever. Add to that the fact that I can just watch the commercials on YouTube, and I’m not sure what the point would be of watching it.

I haven’t had — or missed — television since early October. I have high speed internet and Netflix. I haven’t had a TV show I felt I needed to watch every week since 2009. So the primary reasons for my satelite dish have always been sports — and Shark Week.

I didn’t watch the NHL All-Star Game this year, nor did I watch the NFL Pro Bowl. I feel like I should be upset about those revelations. But I’m not. I’ve seen but one Sabres game since the squabble between Time Warner and MSG began. That would bother me more if the Sabres were playing better. But they’re not — and I’m really not missing it all.

The entire planet almost missed out on the whole NBA season. In other parts of the country that’s a much bigger deal than it is here, although I like basketball, thanks — oddly enough — to two ex-girlfriends.
What I don’t like, however, are whiny millionaires, be they of the stock broker or athletic variety. The more I see sports contracts explode and the more often pro sports seasons are put in jeopardy by disputes over ownership of the pie, the less inclined I am to want to watch.

That said, I’m not boycotting the Super Bowl. I may watch it. Or not. I’m just very blase about the whole ordeal.

I went to church this week. My church. The church I used to go to when I lived in Lockport before. It was nice. The welcome was warm and the people — as always — were very friendly. I’ll be back.

Groundhog Day is Thursday. I’ve always liked Groundhog Day. I don’t care if it’s an early end to winter or if it goes another six weeks, personally. I am, however, reminded of the family vacation we took to Punxsutawney a few years ago to see Phil and friends. I was the only one that liked it. But I liked it enough for all four of us.

Groundhog Day means it’s February. Which means we somehow got through January. That’s absolutely astonishing in that I feel like it hasn’t hardly been winter yet this year — and here it is encroaching upon spring.

We did have some great snowball making snow on Sunday. US&J Sports Editor John D’Onofrio and I stood outside throwing snowballs at a sign. Maybe if I could have hit that stupid sign I’d care more about football. Or maybe if I cared more about football, I would have hit the sign. Or something.

But, hey, how can I be expected to throw snowballs and care about the Super Bowl. I have pink checks.

Wild, wacky #NY26 special election nearly over

With one week to go in the race to see who will take over the 26th Congressional District from the guy who took his shirt off, there is seemingly no end in sight to the silliness that encompasses the special election.

Last week, we saw Jack Davis mug some poor kid — or so it appeared. Jane Corwin, meanwhile got the key endorsement of 20 Republicans you’ve never heard of, who all just happened to be military veterans. And one faction of the Tea Party claimed that the other faction of the Tea Party was fake. Oh, and Kathy Hochul did something, although, to be honest, I can’t remember what. Ian Murphy, meanwhile, was declared irrelevant by Channel 2, and apparently, 98 percent of those taking polls in this race.

I can only imagine how sick you all must be of watching the television ads for this race, with each candidate saying that the others want to maim old people, eat children, raise taxes, shackle pregnant women and bring Stalin back to life.

I’m sick of the commercials and I don’t even watch much television. Just be thankful you don’t get the direct emails from the campaigns like I do. One day last week, I swear I got 192 emails from the Hochul camp. One email every 15 minutes. All day long. By the time I was done reading one, another popped into my inbox.

OK, so maybe I’m exaggerating just slightly. A little hyperbole never hurt anyone. Or that would be what these campaigns are indicating, at least.

I’ve gone back and forth during this race from “This is the best thing ever” to “can this be over yesterday, please?” A friend of mine who makes a career out of politics told me “in the world of politics, we call that love.”

I can tell you that I spent far too much time over the weekend checking in on the race to see who did what, who said something stupid, and how the Internet had reacted to whatever had been done and said. I even forced my kids to watch the news Saturday just in case something important happened. It hadn’t. Poor kids were forced to learn current affairs for no reason.

As a warning, things will get worse before they get better. The campaigns with the money (all of them except Murphy’s) still have a lot to spend and only seven days to do it in. That means more television commercials, more direct mails, more candidate events and more emails.

Also, don’t think for a second that “video-gate” was the last big surprise in this race. I’m sure that someone will announce Friday or over the weekend that the other candidates idolize Lee Iacocca — or were the second gunman on the grassy knoll — or something.

Take solace in knowing that one week from today it will all be over, at least until the next election.

To my readers in the Lockport City School District, don’t forget to vote today. There are some big issues on that ballot and it’s up to you, but if you don’t vote, you’re leaving it up to someone else. And, frankly, it’s all too important to leave up to someone else.

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.

Watered down advice to officials

Our taxes are high. Too high. We've had the distinction a couple times now of having the highest property taxes in the country based on a percentage of our homes' values.

Add to that the fact that we have a boatload of special districts and usage fees and it's amazing we can find two nickles to rub together when we need to.
So any effort by local government to save us money should be looked upon kindly.

Niagara County's three cities are looking at possibly doing just that for it's residents.

Lockport, North Tonawanda and Niagara Falls each have their own water system and their own wastewater treatment plants. And they're looking at possibly sharing services and reducing costs.


Between the three of them, annual costs for their water and wastewater endeavors total $30 million.

Apparently a plan called the Tri-City Regional Water and Wastewater Optimization and Consolidation project came out of a three year old study that could create a blueprint to save you some cash.

If that $30 million annual price tag for operations is reduced to $29.9 million, that would be a good thing. And it would be even better if it were less than that.

The mayors of the three city's all say they are cautiously optimistic that saving will occur.

Niagara Falls Mayor Paul Dyster says the project may not result in a “silver bullet,” but that it looks positive.

I would hope that our elected officials would understand that anything is better than nothing and reject the notion that there is any silver bullet out there.

Oftentimes is seems to me like our elected officials – and even we – seem to only want to find one solution to all our problems and in doing so, we look over several other smaller solutions. This is true in government as well as the private sector.

I can't tell you how many people I hear scoff about a new business opening up. “What? It's going to create 10 jobs,” they'll say, not seeming to recognize that those 10 jobs are 10 we didn't have before.

We need to stop searching for a panacea and just stop the bleeding. And once the bleeding has stopped maybe we'll get better.
I know many of you think I'm just a pessimist who only finds reasons to complain about everything and everyone. Sometimes that's true. But when I hear of something good, I like to promote it.
Saving money is good. Let's do that. And let's appreciate it when it happens.

I'm pretty jazzed about the upcoming concert series. The last two have been brilliant in my opinion and this years' lineup looks great.

That said, what's with the banners downtown with the concert series sponsors names on them?

I hear we lost last years' banners that said “Historic Lockport” and replaced them with these.

In a city that has a fit over signs, it's kind of amazing that our city fathers would be willing to cheapen the look of our downtown like that.

Dear Mayor Tucker: Find the old banners. Put them up. These ones are tacky.

I have to give a quick special note of thanks to the Tonawanda Fire Department for their speedy arrival at my home on Sunday.

What started out to be fried eggs turned into “stove flambe.” And I'm told it was a very short while before it turned into “kitchen flambe” followed shorty by “Homeless Leffler surprise.”

I didn't actually time them on how long between when I called and when they arrived, but it seemed like seconds. Once on scene, they quickly assessed the situation and put out the fire.

As a result, I only had to get a new stove on Monday. Not an whole new home.
Firefighters: Whatever your salary is, you're worth it.

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.

Yes, Emily, there is a Lockport Monster

A few nights ago, I took the family to Northampton Park in Monroe County. Every year, the county has a light show in the park that you drive through.

At $10 a car load, it was well worth it. I highly suggest making the trip.

Anyway, one of the displays was of the Loch Ness Monster.

My 5-year-old daughter Emily asked what it was and we told her.

"There's a Lockport Monster?" she asked.

At the time, I laughed and said, "No, Emily. Loch Ness Monster."

Then I thought about it some more.

What I should have said follows.

Yes, Emily. There is a Lockport Monster.

He doesn't hide in closets or under beds ... and he doesn't want to scare little girls.

But he does frighten the heck out of adults.

You see, Emily, the Lockport Monster is kind of like the Can't Man.

For some reason, honey, people in Lockport have convinced themselves that certain things just won't work.

"After all, this is Lockport, New York," they often say.

That's their way of saying things work different in Lockport - it's almost their way of saying things don't work as well.

Those people that say that, they've been scared by the Lockport Monster.

Unfortunately, honey, some things in Lockport haven't always gone perfectly. Some businesses have closed and some things that used to be pretty aren't as pretty as they were.

Because of that, people that live in Lockport have convinced themselves that nothing is going to go right ever again.

It's the Can't Man - the Lockport Monster - that convinces them that.

In a sense, though, sweetheart, these people in Lockport are trying to protect themselves. If they think it won't work and then it does, then they're happily surprised. But if they think it will work and then it doesn't, then they're sad.

Think of it this way: If I tell you that we're going to Chucky Cheese and then we don't, you're sad, right? But if I don't tell you that we're going to Chucky Cheese, then you're not sad when we don't, right?

That's the Lockport Monster. That thing that makes you - and everyone else - sad.

What we need is a superhero - or the Ghost Busters - to make it go away.

That way, people in Lockport can believe that things are going to work out right.

Because if they don't believe that things will work out, they won't try to make it work. And then it probably won't.

And we don't want that to happen.

After all, if there was a Northampton Park Monster, you wouldn't be seeing these pretty lights.