In the past month I have learned a career's worth of emotional information. In early December, I was hired at a newspaper, the fulfillment of years of educational promises about why college would end up being worth it.
After three weeks of being absolutely enthralled by my job, my employers, my coworkers and the idea that I was getting paid to do what I wanted to do, something was bound to go horribly wrong.
Following a creative meeting with a large part of the staff, I was asked to stick around in the meeting room. Here I learned that I was doing good work, but some people who had never met me had decided that my position was not necessary. I was being laid off.
Awesome!
I took down my U.S. Soccer 2005 calendar and drove home, dejected. About a thousand thoughts rushed through my head as I contemplated just what had happened. Loved ones in more dire straits had experienced this feeling on a more intense level, so I wasn't about to feel sorry for myself, but I sure had a lot of questions.
At this moment, I felt more Buffalo than I had ever felt in my entire life. As I looked into my rear view mirror, my face was morphing into an amalgamation of Scott Norwood, Dominik Hasek, Rick James and Jimmy Griffin. It was eerily reminiscent of "The Four of Us Are Dying," a "The Twilight Zone" episode in which a man is able to change his face into whatever he wants. Really good stuff, but that's not the point.
The point is that I want to be wedded to this area, but it looks more difficult with each passing year. I tried talking to County Executive Joel Giambra to convince him that we were related. I wanted to be his new driver, but I guess I couldn't convert my eyes to the proper shade of evil. He knew we weren't cousins.
In a related story, the National Hockey League is helping to kill Buffalo, and itself, one day at a time, thanks in large part to the Players Association. ESPN.COM brought a smile to my face with their ESPNHL, but they aren't including a team in Buffalo. The death of the NHL could very well mean the death of top-level professional hockey in Buffalo, which leaves Buffalonians with one professional sport, January through April.
Go Bandits?
While radio hot topics have moved from unnecessary items like the Twin Span to unnecessary items like Bass Pro, and red and blue mean budgets and not Bills' pride, it seems more likely each night that my last night in my beloved home city is coming closer and closer.
I bleed Bills blue and love the snow - though I sure despise that almost everyone forgets how to drive in it each year. Playing messy outdoor soccer in October, kind-hearted people and Snapcase still tug at my heart strings, but Snapcase is breaking up, I'm sure people play soccer in Chicago and I can always kidnap my family and friends before I move.
This doesn't just apply to Buffalo, it applies to all of New York State. Our taxes make it remarkably difficult for a small business to succeed here, and I would bet they play a fair share in scaring big business away as well. I know firsthand as a waiter at a small Italian restaurant on Niagara Falls Boulevard that it is incredibly difficult to offer low prices to your patrons when it means you won't be turning much of a profit.
Good food be damned, apparently.
This is a plea to everyone in Buffalo politics: fulfill your civic duty. I don't want to leave my hometown, but I also don't want to live in a shoebox.
