To Tell The Truth

By Caroline Hack

My sister shot a guy in Lubbock and needs to relocate.  She called me from the lap of a strip joint bouncer to ask for advice.  My first thought was that I could cut my rent in half if I let her stay with me.  I did a quick survey of my current pad and remembered that I am living in a storage unit in the Pierce Arrow building.  It’s nice:  8 x 10, chain link walls, sparsly decorated with some cardboard boxes and three table legs.  Not really enough space for a roommate, especially not my sister.  The last time we were in a confined space together (the city of New Orleans) she stabbed me with a car antenna and I bit off two of her toes.

So I told her I had scarlet fever.

She kept yammering on, in a really urgent way, asking about Buffalo. Is it a good place to live?  Do I like it here?  Are there helmet laws?  How long for welfare to come in?

I could feel the anger burn inside and I wasn’t sure why.  Usually I hate her because I envy her position in life, and while I’ve always wanted to shoot a guy, this wasn’t the cause for my current state of blinding rage.  No, it was deeper than that.  I told her my pancreas was bothering me and got off the phone.

I went to my favorite place to think: a beer and pot induced haze and contemplated the reason I despised - if not my sister - then at least the conversation I had with her.  It came to me three days later as I emerged from a blackout in somebody’s car:  I honestly don’t know how to answer people when they ask about life in Buffalo.  My ego wants to tell people all of the great things about the city, but that always feels like I’m covering for one of my mother’s drunken episodes.

So I decided to try something I haven’t tried since I answered an emphatic “Yes” to the question “Do you want to try some of this?” in grade 6-dropout: Honesty.

So sis, here are some of the great things about Buffalo.

If you want to enjoy the company of black people, go to the East side.  If you prefer Hispanics, go to the West side.  If you want to stay away from educated white people, don’t go near Elmwood, but if you don’t mind dirty, smelly, educated white people, you can go up to University Heights.  For all other white people, go to Riverside and Black Rock.  These are self loathing areas that help you to feel good about yourself.  If you want to feel like your social status is lower than angry drunk people, go to South Buffalo.  Those folks think their particular brand of alcoholic underachievement is better than everybody elses.

If you have a learning disability, moderately off-putting social skills, and are bad at math, you are welcome to join the local political scene.

If you like to judge these people from a safe distance, move to one of the bordering suburbs.  Cheektowaga is nice if you like traffic, strip malls and bad family restaurants.  You’ll love Amherst if you like to watch black people pulled over for driving,  and in Williamsville even the teenagers wiping your car down after a car wash exude an air of superiority (plus they dress better than you).  Hit Clarence if you want to ignore the fact that the City exists, with the exception of HSBC arena twice a year and Shea’s at Christmas time.

Oh, I could go on and on.

Including things like the parks and architecture, nice summers, pretty winters, blah blah blah, seems like such a feeble attempt.  Every other city in the country has that stuff too.  So whatever.

The fact of the matter is that I can’t tell you what keeps me here except for the few friends I still have and the familiarity of my favorite spots.  Some of the reason I can’t tell you is that I can’t really put it into words.  I just feel like I belong here.  And I’m not sure what that says about me.