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First Transmission

It’s hard to describe how I feel right now the move, because so much has happened to me in the last week that it all blends together. On Monday, I turned in my final grades for my final class. That made me sad when I realized that for a considerable time I will not be professing. To make that decision final, on Tuesday I submitted my letter of resignation at ECC and said goodbye to the department secretary who has been nothing but supportive and helpful during the years I have taught at the school.

As I walked out of the building I felt that feeling in the back of the throat, that “lump.” I found it to be odd because I had prepared myself for quitting several weeks ago. I suppose that physically doing it was what made it emotional. Then I went for coffee and that cheered me up as it always does.

Tuesday night was more difficult. It was my last night at the bar. Everyone that I have made close friendships with there had shown up and it wasn’t until I left that it really hit me how much my life was going to change. A late night conversation with my dear friend Alice really brought out how much things were going to be different.

While I should have passed out from all the shots and beer that night, I didn’t immediately. Wednesday’s move was hard. It was hard packing up a life to move it somewhere else. This shouldn’t have been new though, I have done it before. I left Hamburg for Fredonia, Fredonia for Hamburg, Hamburg for Toledo, Toledo back to Hamburg, then Hamburg to downtown Buffalo, and from there to here in Rochester.  Each time I have left people, and a way of life behind getting ready to face the future. Don’t get me wrong I don’t regret moving.

My life can usually be defined by the usual routines that I have. Those routines adjust themselves to location. So instead of Spot Coffee in Buffalo I was going to Brewed Awakenings in Toledo, for example. This times it shouldn’t be any different, instead of Spot Coffee in Buffalo I now go to the Starbucks on Monroe St. in Rochester. No more K Ghallager’s it will probably be Monty’s Krown (also on Monroe St.).

This time is different from all the other times beforehand for one reason: I was in love with my neighborhood in Buffalo. I loved everything about it from the predictability of the people asking you for change to the way that my apartment smelled like BBQ when the wind was just right. The fact that I was living in a downtown neighborhood where the neighbors still said hi to one another, and drinking in the bar where Millard Fillmore was assassinated (I know, it was a running joke for us). I could play historical trivia with Mike at Founding Fathers, try new beers with Pat at Hardware, or make Elizabeth serve me 2 for 1 Mojitos on Thursday nights.

People have always complained that there was nothing to do in Buffalo but I never saw it that way downtown. Shakespeare in the Park, Curtain Up, this week is the Infringement Festival, the Allentown Art Festival, the Garden Walk, the numerous concerts, etc. The list goes on. I should point out that I could walk to all of those. I lived a Bohemian life, messy, a bit irresponsible, probably involving too much beer and shots, but it was life. It makes me a bit sad and last night I broke down, but as Virgil said to Dante, “I have been down this road before and came through unscathed.”

This time it isn’t just the people I’m going to miss, it’s the city itself. Being a visitor just isn’t the same.

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