Blizzard of 77 – Children Waving From the Top of a Buried School Bus Image courtesy of Niagara Falls Public Library
I reach for trusted pen and paper
and commit to writing like old days
When I’d feel the thump of winter boots
and remember youthful school snow days
I keep it tightly inside me like
a favorite song I used to know
I bring a little Niagara
with my top down in San Diego
The west will drive poorly, close their schools
in February droplets of rain
while Buffalo kids wear shorts when the
thermometer hits 30 again
When I eat my kale and quinoa I
ask for Buffalo sauce as I go
I take home some Niagara
eating my way through San Diego
The grocery clerk looks like my aunt
except she wears a golden sun tan
I introduced her to Mexican
when we got lunch from a taco stand
I’d trade this Ralph’s for Wegman’s, give up
eternal sun for a touch of snow
Share Niagara melancholy
with the models in San Diego
A robin in winter-spring backyard
versus a sea lion on the pier
From apple cider Octobers
to grand palm trees, how do you compare?
Somedays I miss a chill that needs a
grandmotherly knitted homemade throw
Somedays I want Niagara cold
to keep me warm in San Diego
‘America’s Finest City’ hopes
it could become a little bit lost
In potholes and in yesterdays
and storied scars that tell of the cost
It could be a crumbling beauty
where family memories could grow
My cataract Niagara world
would keep me glad in San Diego
I bring a little Niagara
to picture perfect San Diego
Author’s note: This is heavily inspired by a song. It’s also something I truly identify with, coming from Niagara Falls and living and loving East coast a lot, to moving, semi officially, to San Diego.
Lots to note from this: I wrote with with pen and paper to start and that’s how the poem begins. Ralph’s is a West coast grocery store, Wegman’s is in the Northeast. Niagara Falls are called cataracts and San Diego’s nickname is America’s Finest city. Buffalo is a neighboring city to Niagara Falls. And finally, my aunt came to visit me and had Mexican for the first time in this taco stand in a gas station (that was well regarded and she loved).
Photo of the Horseshoe Falls, Prospect Point Observation Tower, and the Rainbow Bridge, which inspired this poem. Courtesy of Al Knobloch
The river Niagara flows placidly by
With waters polluted by you and by I
By seeping landfills and chemical pits too
A bane to two countries; historically quite new
But then its pace quickens as tourists arrive
Car fumes rise up to the gulls as they fly
As over the brink suicides take the plunge
While after their cameras onlookers do lunge
In springtime, in summer, and then autumn too
Millions converge on this vast human zoo
The hotels keep rising, no zenith in sight
Parking is crazy, the prices a fright
The Falls is encircled with commercial lust
Most ways of our fathers are left in the dust
Casinos proliferate, lounge lizards croon
Ya gotta admit, it’s a commercial boon
Growth exponential, the Maids multiply
Soon to morph into an endless supply
Now worldwide attention is focused right here
Is it due to the Falls, or due to the fear
Mother Nature eclipsed by human nature alive
“Will he really make it, will he survive?”
Dollars flow in, millions will spy
Still spray reaches up to the gulls who still fly
Oh where is the peace, where is the wonder
The natives sought out before our eternal blunder
When I was young, I would walk to school
In sun or snow or rain
I’d make a left at Montrose Road
And head up Lundy’s Lane.
As I reached the canal, I would stand and look
At the current moving fast.
Then head on quickly to Drummond Road
So I wouldn’t be late for class.
The first day I arrived at school
I was overwhelmed with fright.
Who would I know, where did I fit?
Would I ever feel all right?
But it didn’t take long before friends came along
Ones that attended my previous school.
We were delighted to find one another again
Joking around and acting like fools.
At lunch time we would congregate
In a basement room to eat.
And I would sing an Elvis song
While my best friend kept the beat.
Banging her hands on a garbage can
While the rest of us clapped along.
They were wonderful girls and precious times
Where we all felt we belonged.
Cadets marching in the back field
We enjoyed the discipline.
And the rifle range was a challenging sport
The blasts would make our ears ring.
The time has passed, I’m no longer young
But I still remember those years.
Academic classes and musical shows
Puppy love and all those tears.
I cherish the years I spent there
The memories are etched in my mind.
The friendships and learning that took place
Have sustained me throughout my lifetime.
So in ending this poem I want to give thanks
To my high school on Drummond Road.
My life has been happy – my goals attained
And that’s why I’ve written this ode.
