By Peter C. BonSey
Our individual cultures teach us what it means to be a friend.
My upbringing in 1945 postwar England has imprinted on me certain values. One of those values is integrity – do what you say you will do without wavering, no matter what. Your word is your bond and not up for debate.
My father survived the siege of Malta, which he attributed to being…
By Roberta F. Handel
“Right Here, Right Now: The Buffalo Anthology,” edited by Jody K. Biehl, provides a treasury of memories and reflections, which I highly recommend. However, I do want to comment on the reflection “North Park, With and Without Hate” by Jeff Z. Klein, which describes the anti-Semitic discrimination he experienced.
I grew up in North Buffalo on Well…
By Seema Maheshwari
It had been snowing all night and it was now piled high on either side of the path leading to the house next door. A moving van blocked their driveway, but my homemade chocolate cake was ready, so I made my way over to welcome my new neighbors, clutching it tightly in my freezing hands. Brenda watched me scrambling over the piles of snow in disbelief…
By Pete Simon
I was at the Buffalo cultural institution where I volunteer when a woman approached the front desk and introduced herself as Linda Critelli.
“Madame Critelli?” I asked.
“Oui,” she replied.
About 20 years ago, she taught French to both of my daughters at Williamsville South High School. During our chance encounter, she immediately remembered their …
By Angela Demerle
For most of my adult life, I’ve failed to see any value in recreational reading. In retrospect, this may seem odd because I did well in language arts in school and my professional life was all about reading and writing. Perhaps my daily “required” reading made me fail to see the value in reading in my free time.
With time, however, I’ve come to see …
By Carol L. Miller
There seems to be a movement afoot to “clear out.” Everyone I talk to is cleaning, sorting and getting rid of stuff. Maybe it’s those New Year’s resolutions.
I’ve done my share over the years, taking carloads of stuff to Goodwill. There is something to be said for living in a less cluttered space.
But I’ve about reached the limit of what I’m wil…
By Tony Kutter
Growing up in an agricultural community during the Great Depression of the 1930s, World War II and the postwar years left me with many profound memories.
I recall Dad, who was employed at Hasselbeck Cheese factory, telling me that during the Depression, milk prices dropped to 60 cents per hundred pounds of milk. (Today milk prices are approximately $18…
By Ross Feltz
Reading a recent My View column written by my sister, Charmayne Zieziula, prompted me to wonder if any family has produced three My View authors covering two generations.
I’ve been privileged to have been published twice, as has my sister. Her daughter, Naomi Feltz, has been published once. Hence, five My Views from one family.
Perhaps it was the exp…
By Adele Haas
I live in a retirement community and am surrounded by so many people who, at first glance, may all look alike: white hair, a slower walk or perhaps using a cane.
However, if you get to know us, you will learn that we are former teachers, nurses, Navy pilots, lawyers, secretaries and engineers. We are the sum of our decades as we go forward on this conve…
By Linda Jenkin Costanzo
If humans are the only creatures who actually laugh, what makes us chuckle or double over with laughter? Sometimes the most hilarious moments are when I mention my mistakes. Sharing them not only humbles me, it’s also a story for others to pass on.
Aunt Beady, my Dad’s sister, used to phone him and they’d roar about foolish things she’d done.…
By Angie R. Lucarini
On a daily basis, most of us see things around our home that are pleading for a little love and attention.
It may be a hole that needs to be patched, or a visible pipe that’s oozing with rust. Maybe it’s the black mold forming on your bathroom ceiling or the backsplash of your kitchen sink.
Whatever the items may be in your home, we all have s…
By Phil Zimmer
Our door slammed and I heard a loud screech: “Who is baking their boots in my oven?”
I instantly knew I was in trouble. I left my computer and dashed downstairs and came eye-to-eye with my very upset wife, who had just arrived back from shopping.
“Well, uh, you’re home early. Welcome!” I said in my best welcoming voice.
She glanced at the oven an…
By Kristin Owens
Southgate Plaza Jewelers had a magnificent run. For 45 years, this family-run store graced a corner of the plaza in West Seneca. But, like all good things, its time has come to an end. In 2017, the shop will close.
That makes me sad. I grew up in Buffalo in the mid-1980s and after brief stints at Dickie’s Donuts and Krasner’s Ladies Apparel, my 16-ye…
By Michael D. Slater, D.O.
The first time I met John Glenn turned out to be perfectly representative of who the man was and will always be to me. I’d been hired to work on his Aging Committee staff after a stint with the CIA and some fruitless work in the House. It was in his office, replete with space flight memorabilia and with his wife, Annie, ubiquitously present.
By Janice Schlau
“Szopka,” the manger in Polish, is and remains today the center of the Wigilia celebration, or Polish Christmas Eve. It begins with the visit by “Swiety Mikolaj” on Dec. 6, feast of St. Nicholas, who visits the children dressed as a bishop accompanied by an angel, according to legend.
Wigilia dates back hundreds of years, painting a portrait of true …