Mother and Son Going to Buffalo, NY – Day 9

New York

The sun will dip in and out of view before taking refuge behind clouds that overtook the sky. After ensuring that the light of day had, in fact, returned, I turned to deal with breakfast. Growing tired of restaurants, I’d decided the night before that we’d have our first meal of the day in the cabin. Last night I made a solo trip to Oswego to find the place has two grocery stores, a couple of small markets, a health food store, a bookstore, and even a university. I had been looking for a bakery but had to make do with one of the groceries. With a bottle of orange juice and a loaf of the firmest whole-grain bread I could find, breakfast was in hand.

Following my errand into town and still needing more me time after Mom went to sleep, I went out to the patio of our cabin. With my eyes adjusted to the dark, I noticed a spider starting work on a new web. I can’t say I ever stopped to watch this process before. How wonderful watching two right legs position themselves on two different strands of web, apparently measuring tension, while three other legs, one right and two left, weave the web and pull in the slack web. The spider would then grab hold of an overhead strand, and while it scooted across the length of the web, it let out another strand that was connected to the opposite side. Next, it would drop down, riding yet another strand to a lower horizontal piece of the web to connect it, crawl up the new strand, climb over, and descend, dropping another new part of the web. Wow, this is pretty cool, basic to probably almost anyone else, but sitting here in the darkness with a streetlight placing the spider into silhouette was an incredible moment for me.

Near the edge of the campsites and under a few of the trees, fireflies came up out of the grasses to make an appearance. Nothing like what we saw in Iowa but still a delightful sight. When I finally attempted to find some sleep, the room was still baking. With a fan sitting on a chair blowing directly at my head, I was soon off to sleep.

New York

Today, we are visiting the Finger Lakes region before going into Buffalo. The lakes are not far from where we stayed, next to Lake Ontario. We pass through Seneca Falls before getting our first view of Cayuga Lake. Not far south from that, we come across the first winery that catches Mom’s eye, Swedish Hills. It’s only 9:15, and the winery isn’t officially open, but the owner is in the store and obliges our early morning visit. Mom is hunting for cherry wines, and although she wasn’t able to get one here, she did find a great raspberry wine, a Svenska Red, a Mareschal Foch, and a Delaware white. As I don’t know a thing about wines, I can’t offer anything beyond their names.

New York

We go so far south as Ithaca but find little to get excited about from this historic town that boasts having Cornell University at the center of its universe. Maybe it was the heavy traffic or what appeared to be a poor downtown area in regards to shopping and eating possibilities, but whatever it was, we were soon gone.

New York

The next lake we visited among the “Fingers” was Seneca Lake, just west of Cayuga Lake. Around lunch, we stop at a lakeside restaurant but are chased away by flies and the absence of any staff to seat us. Over in Geneva, we spot a small place down a one-way street I turn up the wrong way to get to. We have club sandwiches at the Flower Petal Café and are happy we did so.

Geneva is a city that has seen better days. It’s been down but looks to be making a comeback. Our hope is that it works as it is ideally situated along the lakes, has beautiful architecture, and has the layout for a great community life that would play well to tourism.

In the small village of Williamson, we stopped at a great fruit and ice cream stand that was selling fresh homegrown raspberries, tiny plums, and local black cherries that were outstanding. The real draw of this place is the ice cream, though. Mom grew up eating Perry’s ice cream, and to this day, it is her favorite. I will attest to the fact that the vanilla with fresh raspberries would be hard to surpass.

New York

Pultneyville is a town that demands a repeat visit. This may have been the standout place of the day, but Buffalo surely wasn’t. The other nice finds were Appleton and Newfane. In Appleton, Mom and I stopped at the Maryjim Manor Winery in a beautiful old mansion. Mom struck gold with three different types of cherry wines, the second case of wine bought today.

Buffalo, New York

Not long after passing through Lockport, we entered the outskirts of Buffalo. In Buffalo, our first stop had to be Bocce Club Pizza, an old favorite of Mom and me. Armed with a 2-liter bottle of Loganberry juice, we eat till we are stuffed and likely will start showing signs of having diabetes. The remainder of the pizza is in the backseat, and we begin our tour of places where mom grew up and where I lived as a small child.

Buffalo, New York

Here we are on Nadon Place, where I would stay with my mother’s parents when I wasn’t staying with my father’s parents or my Aunt Eleanor and Great-Grandmother Josephine or my Aunt Lillian and Uncle Joe or Aunt Anne and Uncle Woody. To be honest, this was the one place I enjoyed the least as my grandma Hazel, whom my father affectionately referred to as Witch Hazel, was a stickler for the order of things and was adamant that we wouldn’t make messes in her prim and proper home. This is also the home my mother grew up in until that fateful summer day almost exactly 43 years ago when she got pregnant by a high school senior named John Michael Wise. When I consider that my mom conceived me somewhere between July 10 and July 19, 1962, and that we’re here revisiting her old haunts during those pivotal days as a kind of anniversary return, I gotta say I’m kinda freaked out.

Buffalo, New York

Anderson’s Custard because you can never eat enough ice cream in a single day. This location on Sheridan Drive was mom’s favorite and turned out to be halfway between her parent’s house and the first apartment I would live in before my sister Shari was born. I’m starting to think that the flavor of vanilla and the smell of yeast are the main ingredients of diabetes. Is it even safe to eat this much sugar in a day?

Buffalo, New York

Sheridan Park is a ghetto of low-income deprivation. Here at 33 Burns Court in the Sheridan Park community of Tonawanda in Buffalo, New York is where my mom spent her pregnancy until shortly before I was born in April 1963. Back then, it was the lowest-income neighborhood in Buffalo, though today, it doesn’t look as bad as some of the other places we’ve already driven past. Even with that comparison, this place is just plain scary.

Buffalo, New York

1051 Sheridan Drive was Franks Queen City Grille that was still operating when we came through and was the place of Mom’s first waitressing job. Franks is long gone as I write this, as is the place that took it over. From our apartment, it was just a half-mile around the corner to this joint.

Mom has some fond memories of Grand Island, which is where we went to find a place to stay at the Chateau Motor Lodge. The $70 seemed to be on the pricey side for the hot and humid room with a pipsqueak of an air conditioner that left me sweating like a pig for another night. Of course, it could also be sweat associated with getting stuffed like the aforementioned animal. Speaking of food, I should point out that there was still the matter of a little something for dinner with Mom asking the guy at the motel desk for a recommendation for Texas Hots, which are also called Greeks that drew us in like wolves on a fresh kill. Long live food, and to hell with our waistlines.

Mother and Son Going to Buffalo, NY – Day 8

Karen Goff in New York

The foul weather and heavy clouds that have been hanging over Mom and me on a personal level are clearing. With a week to go before we got back to Phoenix, we had to put the squabbles behind us. Breakfast is at Bauernstube German American Restaurant. We both have waffles with blueberries and then head on down the road.

New York

Now, I get to try finding the beauty out here on these incredible summer days again. Flowers are always good at seducing me into seeing things in a positive light.

New York

We are traveling along the St. Lawrence Seaway today, passing farms, forests, small towns, wildflowers, orchards, horses, lakes, more of the seaway, and some truly beautiful villages, each seemingly more spectacular than the last. With the sun shining so brightly upon us, we have slowed to a pace that might impact our ability to cover the 200 miles we need to drive today.

New York

I’m dreaming of the overwhelming need to bring Caroline out here and go kayaking among the Thousand Islands. Actually, there are more than 1,800 islands found between Lake Ontario and the St. Lawrence River that make up this popular recreation site. While traveling through, I’m not without trepidation about what the area is like during the height of summer, but then I remind myself that we are here in mid-summer, and it’s not all that busy.

New York

At one pullout, we stumble upon a couple from Gilbert, Arizona, who just spent their 47th wedding anniversary at Bar Harbor, Maine. We talked for a half-hour before getting on with the road trip and wishing each other the best. A good few hours pass while we stop for photos and otherwise meander.

New York

Lunch is in Alexandria Bay at the Top of the Bay Patio Bar with a salad and meatball sandwich sent up from Cavallarie’s Bayside Pizza below the bar. The view is from the Upper James Street Dock.

New York

A few more miles west, we stop in Clayton at the Antique Boat Museum, where Mom has the opportunity to demonstrate her vast knowledge of boating.

New York

My mom is shining as she indulges in remembering a youth before she was sidetracked by her indiscretion that produced children. Life on Lake Erie and the Niagara River was a large part of life, along with winter trips down to Florida where my grandparents Herbert and Hazel would take my mom for fishing and boating during the worst of the Buffalo winters. Like many youths, they can’t see the luxury of how good they have it but can only focus on what they think is being denied them by over-restrictive parents. Forty years ago, my mom’s life was perfect, though she couldn’t see it, and now, among the wooden boats, she shares how Herbert built his own boat and how, over time, he’d come to own a number of larger and larger yachts with membership at the local yacht club.

New York

Wow, what a beautiful canoe. While I have the worst sense of balance seated in a canoe, that doesn’t mean it would stop me from wanting to paddle away from the dock with Caroline on an adventure into the waters of part of this country between New York and Canada.

New York

Cape Vincent: we turn southward and are now on Lake Ontario. The drive is starting to wind down for the day.

New York

Water seeping out of rock might be part of your normal, but for me, it’s magical.

New York

In Oswego, we find the perfect lodging. We were about to pass through the town, but a stop at a gas station for ice on our way to Cayuga on the Finger Lakes changed our plans. A friendly gal in the convenience store tells us of a great place for dinner around the corner and so I asked about lodging too. She tells us about some cabins right next door to the restaurant. Still early in the day, at 4:30 p.m., we call it quits for the day.

Our room for the night is a hot and humid little cabin overlooking Lake Ontario. All windows are open, two doors are open, and two fans are straining to push around as much air as possible.

Karen Goff in New York

Dinner at Rudy’s Lakeside Drive-In was great. I had the Haddock sandwich, and Mom had a plate of Haddock and Scallops. Of course, fries come with every order. Rudy’s is one busy place and has been there since 1947.

New York

We sit lakeside a while but need to leave the late setting sun to return to our cabin. Getting back relatively early lets me knock out some writing while hoping to get the chance to find sleep early tonight.

John Wise in New York

I had to visit the car so I could talk in private with Caroline and let her know that Mom and I were on the mend. I took the picture above of myself so she could see with her own eyes that my smile was real.

Mother and Son Going to Buffalo, NY – Day 7

Vermont

What happened yesterday was bound to be part of our reality; I’m only surprised it took six days for it to arrive. The squabble carried through to today before things grew so bad that we simply stopped speaking to one another.

Vermont

Momma bird has never been good about tending to the nest, letting her young fend for themselves; this is the privilege of an only child. Approaching Montreal, I find myself grinding my teeth. While we cannot fully bypass the city, I make a circuitous route to avoid the center, but from what I can see of the diversity and architecture from afar, this would be a great place to explore with someone in love with what’s really important. Mom is grumbling about how worn out she is from our grueling drive and her insatiable hunger.

I’m not stopping for anything except border control in the United States. I want out of Canada so she can stop shitting on my sense of being inclusive of cultures, diversity, and adversity. Breakfast can wait until we are in Vermont. From my view of Montreal on the edges of the city, I can see a place bustling with a mashup of people on the streets. Hasidic Jews walk amongst Jamaicans, Hindus, Africans, Asians, and various other Canadians. Where I grew up in Los Angeles, ethnic groups seem to be segregated into enclaves, just as New York City had predominantly Irish and Italian neighborhoods prior to gentrification.

Vermont

I am determined that Caroline and I come back at the first possible chance as this is much closer than Europe with a lot of the cultural charm that attracts me to those old-world countries. It has been a breath of fresh air to see gasoline priced in liters and kilometers per hour on the highways; the temperature, while a hot 36 degrees Celsius, has this American loving the differences.

Our breakfast was in North Hero at Hero’s Welcome, but only reluctantly so. You see, Caroline and I stopped here five years ago and loved the place. My return was made in order to call Caroline from here and tell her if it was still the same and still as appealing as we thought. It was.

Further south in Charlotte, Vermont, is America’s oldest still-operating ferry crossing. We are heading across Lake Champlain for Essex, New York.

New York

With some food in us, my mom and I decided that we’d try to leave the events of the last 12 hours behind us. Serious damage has been done to our relationship, though I don’t believe my mother understands that. She thinks that what we say is of little consequence and that I take things too seriously. She is my mom; for god’s sake, I am supposed to take her seriously. I drove and stopped for the occasional photo, hoping my mom wouldn’t return to blurting out any more of her intolerance.

New York

Turbulent waters don’t settle quickly. I grew up at a time of great diversity, both generationally and culturally, combined with obvious gender and racial divides that were collapsing. Los Angeles in the 1970s and early 80s was a melting pot of people from all walks of life having an infinity of roles that were being played out. Not only did my mother dislike personal responsibility to such a degree that she abandoned my sister and me at kindergarten around 1968, but she’d carry that forward into her later years regarding her health, spending her own and other people’s money, along with her own mother, father, and aunt who she convinced to move to Arizona so they could be closer to a supportive caregiver. In the end, she squandered their savings on bad investments, travel, food, and her own business while putting a roof over their head but little more.

She knew when she threw us away that the man who would care for us was violent and physically abusive. One of my earliest memories of my father was seeing him beating up my mother in rage; I was probably about 3 or 4 years old. My mother wanted the yacht club life of being doted on by someone who would tolerate her and allow her to do as she pleased. I tend to believe that the only reason my mother brought my sister and me back into her life when we were in our late teens was so she could hang out with people who would be impressed by her carefree, do-anything lifestyle. Tragically, I didn’t understand the extent of her selfishness earlier and would get caught up with her fantasy life, but only to a point. The instinct to cherish and love your mom is innate, apparently, the same regarding your children is not the rule.

New York

As we drove through New York, passing the touristic town of Lake Placid, I couldn’t help but stew on, wondering who this stranger was next to me. I’m in conflict about the sense of responsibility and what love for a parent means when both of them turn out to be fundamentally broken. The child still within continues to look for approval and a motherly embrace, but in mine, I see a seething, horrible person who puts on a facade in order to attract sympathetic people to her pretend plight. Has my mother ever known happiness besides the times she’s left alone behind a plate of food? Her solace is a dish of oysters, and her altar is found in the Temple of Crème Brûlée.

You may think these are harsh words for someone who is dead at the time when much of it is being written, but the sentiment of her selfishness and narrowmindedness was shared with her more than once, which resulted in us not talking for years or me leaving family gatherings such as Thanksgiving after her spit-filled anger of calling me an asshole, just like my rotten father. So what is love when your parents are miscreants? For a long time, it was an unknown but highly desired mythical something that didn’t seem would exist for me. I couldn’t find it in others. Then, somewhere along the road, back while I was living in Germany and before I met Caroline I found a path to loving myself and all of my peculiarities, misgivings, fear, anxiety, and self-loathing. Relatively quickly, I discovered that just because your parents resent you and do not know how to share love doesn’t mean you must be bereft of such feelings within.

New York

Ah, the sunset. Caroline and I share the same appreciation and love of the magical sunsets that close out wonderful days. I look upon this one and dream of the next sunset I’ll share with her, knowing that it will stir mutual feelings of wonderment, and for those moments, we’ll be the only people on earth basking in the warm golden embrace of the sun.

This is Saranac Lake, where I first thought of stopping for the night before deciding to continue down the road.

New York

In Potsdam, New York, we visited Sergi’s Italian Restaurant & Pizzeria suggested to us by a couple walking along the road in the Adirondacks near Mount Arab. We gorged ourselves because that’s what we do, especially when confronted with emotional turmoil. Mom ate so much baked ziti, which she couldn’t finish that she had to skip dessert.

We continued westward to Massena, grabbing a room at the Lakeview Motel. Only $50 for the night and right on the shore of the Saint Lawrence Seaway. The evening comes to an end with me learning that my mom doesn’t believe one of her three children respects her. I am lost.

America – Day 10

View of the Atlantic from Pilgrim Sands Hotel in Plymouth, Massachusetts

I may as well give away the secret: today’s weather will be poor all day. If there was a speck of blue sky, we missed it. There is a good view of the ocean, though, and that makes up for the disappointment that the sun has dipped out.

Atlantic ocean wildlife

This penguin is in disguise as a seagull, those black tail feathers are the giveaway. Maybe I should choose a day from this trip and just lie about everything? In town here in Plymouth, we stopped for some coffee at Lalajava and tried their cranberry nut cream coffee, good stuff, and so we make a note to get on the internet when we get home and order some. (We never did do that, and as of 2018, as I’m back-filling these blog entries, they are out of business)

The somewhat controversial rock that is claimed to be "the" Plymouth Rock in Plymouth, Massachusetts

So this is the alleged “Plymouth Rock” that is not likely the landing spot of anyone from the Mayflower. The problem with the story is that no pilgrims ever mentioned the existence of this disembarkation point in any writings. It wasn’t until 121 years later that someone started the myth that this was the very spot where these early pilgrims set foot in North America. So, while it is interpreted as a symbol of that early colonization, its factual historical significance is relative.

Cranberry bog in Massachusetts

Our first sighting of a cranberry bog. You can bet this elicited a stronger curiosity than the rock in the previous picture. We also passed the Ocean Spray World of Cranberries headquarters. Apparently, we are in cranberry country.

Rhode Island state sign

Sadly, we just weren’t motivated enough to go stand in the rain and try to grab a selfie in front of the Rhode Island state sign. Welcome to the smallest state in America from the car.

Caroline Wise and John Wise in Rhode Island

We needed to do something to commemorate being in the smallest state in America, and so during a break in the rain, I made this WTF face after wondering how Caroline made herself blurry.

Connecticut state sign

I had to catch this Connecticut Welcomes You sign while driving down the road. Anyone who knows me probably knows I giggled at the “Town of Stonington” part of the sign.

Somewhere in Connecticut

This Connecticut place is kinda pretty, even on a drab gray day. At least the rain let up.

Mystic Seaport in Mystic, Connecticut

We arrive too close to the museum closing, and with the weather what it is, we decide we’ll have to wait for another day to visit the Mystic Seaport. We are disappointed but certain we’ll return. Something I should point out about this cross-country journey we are on, this is more an orientation of discovery to get a better idea of the lay of the land known as the United States. If we don’t get to a particular place, that’s okay because this is just the scouting exercise.

Entering New York City

I didn’t think for one second that while the majority of our trip had been rural and that we’d kind of freaked out in Boston due to the congestion, we might have the same reaction in New York City. Heck, this was so exciting, this idea of us visiting the Big Apple together for the first time, that the thrill propelled us right in. From entering Manhattan via the Bronx, we head south, making our way over to the Hudson Parkway. Wow, we’re on Broadway!

Sign pointing to Brooklyn

Okay, that was a supremely bad idea with the concert of beeping horns and bumper-to-bumper traffic. We headed for the exit leaving Manhattan via Brooklyn and then crossed over to Staten Island on the Verrazano-Narrow Bridge.

View of the New York City skyline

This was the best handheld shot I could get of NYC from Staten Island before we tried to put even more distance between us and the chaos.

White Castle Burgers in New Jersey

I’d only ever had these from the frozen food aisle at some random grocery store out West; they suck fresh and in person too. What do people see in White Castle? They need In-N-Out Burger.

It’s 10:00 p.m. when we enter Pennsylvania, our fifth state today. It will be 11:45 before we finally find a Ramada Inn in Reading, Pennsylvania. We must have stopped at half a dozen other motels that were all sold out. We are tired.

America – Day 7

The Knezetic family in approximately 1928 Buffalo, New York

This is the Knezetic family circa 1928. Robert Knezetic and Louisa Priezula were born in Croatia. Louisa went by the name Luba while in Croatia but adopted Lillian after immigrating to the United States through Ellis Island in 1905. Robert was an adopted name, too; he was born Blasius, or Blaz for short. Robert was born in Ozalj, Karlovac, Croatia, on February 1st, 1886. Lillian was born on March 10, 1888; she, too, was from Ozalj. In the back row of this photo is my paternal grandmother Amelia on the left; she was born on October 18, 1918. Next up are John (born Dec 24, 1913), Bob (born Robert on Oct 27, 1912), George (born May 15, 1916), and Frank (born May 29, 1921). Between Robert and Lillian sit Anna and Mike (born Sep 3, 1924).

John Alexander Wise and Amelia Knezetic getting married in Buffalo, New York

This is John Alexander Wise and Amelia Knezetic on their wedding day, they are my paternal grandparents. John Wise was born on December 10, 1918, in Berford, Ontario, Canada. His mom’s name was Hattie, born in 1898, and her husband was Cornelius, born about October 11, 1892, in Blenheim, Oxford County, Canada – my great-grandmother and grandfather. Hattie was also known as Hally. Her mom was Ellen Denby (also known as Alice). Born in 1871, she married John Farrell on September 12, 1887, in Brant, Ontario, Canada.

My great-great-grandfather was Alexander Wise, born June 8, 1837; he was married to my great-great-grandmother Margaret Irving, born April 27, 1859. This side of the family came out of the Ontario, Canada, area. Alexander was known to be of Germanic descent.

Ellen’s father was Richard (Morris) Denby, born June 5, 1837, in England – this would be my great-great-great-grandfather. Richard was married to Sarah (last name possibly Morris, there is confusion in the records); she was born March 22, 1840, in England. These two immigrated to Canada in 1868.

John Farrell’s father was Robert (McLeod) Farrell born in 1844 in Berford, Canada. John was of Irish descent; he married Lydia McLeod (this could be the maiden name; again, the records are not clear).

Lillian Marynowski formerly Wise of Buffalo, New York

Lillian Wise during her senior year in high school. Lillian was named after her grandmother and would share her nickname of Luba, too. Lillian was the older of John and Amelia’s two children.

John Michael Wise Sr. during his senior year of high school in Buffalo, New York

This is my father, John Michael Wise, Sr., born in Buffalo, New York, on March 16, 1945. He inherited an angry temperament, though those who would never know that side of him found him a charming and engaging man. His time on our planet was short, and by the time he was 44 years old in 1989, he was starting to suffer the effects of a hard life. Smoking, factory work, poor diet, and a lot of stress led him to his first heart attack. From that point forward, he would have at least one more heart attack and start to deny the health impacts of being diagnosed with diabetes. Through continued neglect, he ultimately saw his lower extremities removed, and then on February 2, 2003, the same day the space shuttle Columbia blew up, my father exited this world. From my dad, I likely inherited his love of reading, music, and dealing poorly with anger.

Penny and Mike Knezetic on their wedding day in Buffalo, New York

This is Flora “Penny” and Mike Knezetic on their wedding day. They lived their entire lives on Alberta Drive in Buffalo, New York, behind Mike’s older sister, Amelia, and next door for several years to his younger sister, Anna.

Anna Knezetic and Woodrow Burns in Buffalo, New York

Dressed up for someone else’s wedding, these are Anna Knezetic (born in 1926) and Woodrow Burns. However, by this time, I believe they were already married, so this is Mr. and Mrs. Burns to be proper.

Robert and Lillian (Luba) Knezetic in Buffalo, New York

Robert (Blaz) and Lillian (Luba) Knezetic in their last photograph taken together. Robert passed away in 1962, and Lillian the year after.

Hattie Brooks, Lillian Wise, Joe Marynowski, and Lillian (Luba) Knezetic at Lillian and Joe's wedding in Buffalo, New York

On the left is Hattie Brooks (maiden name may have been Denby) with Lillian Wise and Joe Marynowski, who are getting married, and my great grandmother Lillian (Luba) Knezetic on the right, who was a widow by this time. This is the only known photo of Hattie and the last photo taken of Luba.

Family get together in Buffalo, New York

I’d guess that this photo was taken around 1966. In the very front, lying down, is my grandfather John Wise. Sitting on him is one of my cousins with her sister just behind her on her right: this should be Judy and Nancy. Their mom is Jean, who was married to Frank Knezetic (not pictured); she’s the woman seated to the left behind the small dog. Next is Mildred Knezetic married to one of the boys, an unidentified woman, and Bob Knezetic. In the far back row is an unidentified man, Lillian, and Joe Marynowski, I believe that is Anna, followed by Mike and John. Standing in front of Mike should be his son Mike Jr, and the two girls to the far left are most likely Linda and Donna, who are also children of Mike and Penny.

Mike Knezetic and John Wise in Buffalo, New York

Uncle Mike is still living in the same house he’d lived in since getting married. He would pass away five years after this photo was taken, two years after his wife Penny passed.

Engine House No. 26 in Buffalo, New York

Engine House Number 26 in Buffalo bears the family name Kurchhoff on a plaque to the left of the big red door. The name Kurchoff (current spelling) was also found on Millard Fillmore Hospital before it was torn down and several other buildings around the Buffalo area. My family, on the maternal side, was involved with construction and design during the late 19th and early 20th centuries.

44 Fuller St in Buffalo, New York

This is 44 Fuller Street in Buffalo, New York, within walking distance of the Niagara River. It is also the former home of Robert and Lillian Knezetic. We also visited 21 Manchester Place which was the first home of John and Amelia before moving to Delta Road. We also drove by the All Saints Church and School on 127 Chadduck Avenue, where my aunt Lillian fetched my sister and me after my mother abandoned us.

Ted's Hot Dogs are a Buffalo, New York institution

Lunch was at Ted’s Hot Dogs, and while we are so lucky to have the only Ted’s outside of Buffalo in Arizona, there’s nothing like going to one of the originals. Afterward, we went back to Anderson’s Custard for one last taste.

Lillian Marynowski, Caroline Wise, and John Wise in front of 109 Delta Rd in Buffalo, New York

After a short day and a half, we are already taking leave of Buffalo. While I’m delighted to be back here at 109 Delta Road, I’m also conflicted by my history and family dynamics that have left me awkward in these kinds of social situations. I may wish for the kind of family relationships I so often see among others, but sadly, it was never meant to be in my cards. Time to go.

Somewhere near Cold Brook, New York

We headed out of Buffalo in the direction of Albany. We left the I-90 to catch Highway 8 north towards the Adirondack Mountains. Stopped to take this photo near the village of Poland, New York.

Near Cold Brook, New York

Sunset out near Cold Brook, New York

An old church near the Adirondacks in New York

It gets dark early this far north in the fall. From here, we still had more than a few hours of driving before we decided it was time to stop.

Piseco Lake in New York

We believe this is Piseco Lake, but we’re not sure; what we are sure of is that when I shot this image in the fading light, we hadn’t seen the six crosses over at the lakeshore just left of center. Our trip ends tonight in Rouses Point, New York, at the Anchorage Motel on Lake Champlain, just across from Vermont. Guess where we are going in the morning?

I should point out one more thing: today, America went to the voting machines trying to decide who would replace Bill Clinton. Will it be Al Gore or George W. Bush?

America – Day 6

Lillian Marynowski and John Wise Sr. of Buffalo, New York

Arrived at my aunt Lillian’s late last night. This photo is of her and my father, John M. Wise Sr. Yep, I’m a junior, and it’s the first time I’ve seen this picture of the two siblings. Growing up in Buffalo until I moved to California to live with my father, my aunt Lillian and her husband Joe Marynowski were two of my favorites as they always seemed to be laughing or making my sister and I laugh with them. After my mother, Karen Kurchoff, abandoned us at school one morning when we were about 4 and 5, it was the paternal side of my family that cared for us so we could avoid foster care. I tended to understand the situation back then in 1968, with my mom being a mere 19 years old after getting pregnant back in 1962 at the age of 14 with me, but still, I was sent off to live with a man who had his own set of issues. Looking at this photo, I see the potential still beaming in a smile that might have let this boy grow up and enjoy life, but instead, he was likely witnessing behaviors that shaped the way he would deal with his wives and his children into something far less than stellar.

Lillian Marynowski and her grandchildren Jacob and Jonathan Marynowski in Buffalo, New York

My aunt Lillian Marynowski, formerly Wise, and her grandchildren Jacob and Johnathan Marynowski. More than thirty years ago I spent many a day and night in this house as it was the home of John Alexander Wise and Amelia Wise née Knezetic, my paternal grandparents. I have fond memories of being here and can hardly believe that all these years later, I’m peeking in the refrigerator (looking for tapioca my grandma used to make me) and visiting the basement where she scrubbed my grandfather’s collars on a washboard by hand. Where the lamp and picture of Jesus are, there used to be a cabinet, and in the bottom drawer were the games that my grandfather had given me: Lincoln Logs and an Erector Set. I can still remember sitting in the living room (just behind my aunt Lillian) and watching Frankenstein for the first time and falling in love with horror movies, though I also can’t forget burying my face in a pillow for much of the film as it was too scary. Visiting after so many years away brings with it a wave of emotions and memories that in some way were buried and maybe are better left in the past, but here I am in the face of nostalgia for good or bad.

Delta Road and Charlotte Street in Tonawanda Buffalo, NY

The intersection of Delta Road and Charlotte Street in Tonawanda Buffalo, New York. I’ve played on these streets for several years and would walk around the corner to Alberta Drive to visit with my aunt and uncle Annie and Woody Burns and a house or two down Mike and Penny Knezetic and their three children. While Mike and Penny stayed in their house for the rest of their lives, as did my grandparents, Annie and Woody, moved to Goleta, California, which was in part why my father moved to California too. Years later, Annie and Woody would move back to Buffalo just across the street from my cousin Brian Marynowski, who at the time was caring for his mom, my aunt Lillian, in what had been my grandparents’ home.

Caroline Wise stepping into Canada for the first time ever

Caroline Wise is stepping into Canada for the first time. We are on our way to Niagara Falls.

Niagara Falls Panorama from Canadian side

Our first grand view of Niagara Falls is seen from Canada, which happens to have the better views. We’d planned on taking a Maid of the Mist tour out on the water to the foot of the falls, but it had closed for the season only a few days before our arrival.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at the Journey Behind the Falls at Niagara Falls, Canada

One hundred twenty-five feet below the surface, a 130-year-old tunnel system offers visitors a viewing and listening experience of Niagara Falls that shouldn’t be missed.

Journey Behind the Falls viewing platform in Canada

A viewing platform adjacent to the tunnel we were just in offers this incredible view and puts the Falls into a wholly new perspective. While we missed the Maid of the Mist this trip, we’ll come back someday and certainly make the journey to see the Falls from that perspective. The biggest joy for Caroline while here was seeing the incredible number of rainbows that shone brightly in the sun under clear blue skies.

Historic Fort Niagara on Lake Ontario in Youngstown, New York

Welcome to Fort Niagara on Lake Ontario in Youngstown, New York. We cannot believe our luck that the sun is shining, the sky is blue, and it’s a warm 50-degree fall day.

Fort Niagara on Lake Ontario in Youngstown, New York

From the Old Fort Niagara website:

The three flags flown daily above the parade ground symbolize the nations that have held Fort Niagara. Each competed for the support of a fourth nation: the powerful Iroquois Confederacy. The French established the first post here, Fort Conti, in 1679. Its successor, Fort Denonville (1687-88), was equally short-lived. In 1726, France finally erected a permanent fortification with the construction of the impressive “French Castle.” Britain gained control of Fort Niagara in 1759, during the French & Indian War, after a nineteen-day siege. The British held the post throughout the American Revolution but were forced, by treaty, to yield it to the United States in 1796. Fort Niagara was recaptured by the British in 1813. It was ceded to the United States a second time in 1815 at the end of the War of 1812.

Looking out of a cell at Fort Niagara in Youngstown, New York

In all my years of taking photos, this has remained a favorite due to how much it conveys, how much it obscures, and the hints of color that come through.

Back in Buffalo, we spent the late afternoon and evening with Aunt Lillian, who indulged us with visits to two of my childhood favorites: Bocce Club Pizza for dinner and Anderson’s Custard for dessert. There are a few things Buffalo does well, pizza, custard, candy, and Buffalo wings are certainly out front. Brian and his wife Lynn came over and stayed a bit before leaving the kids with Grandma, with whom we talked late into the night. It’s a mixed bag, this going-home stuff.