There's just something about Buffalo.

Yesterday on the subway, Tom and I sat behind a dad and his young son and, not being certain which stop to get off for the Bison baseball game, I told Tom that we should simply follow those two because, most likely, they were headed toward the game, also. The son resembled every kid you'd ever seen at a movie baseball game.

So we alighted from the car when they did, but alas! They weren't going to the game. But call it a mistake? No way, for Tom and I walked along two blocks to the beat of an amazing rhythm-and-blues group playing to released-from-the-office crowds for the daily lunchtime concert. A soundtrack for our stroll past happy people and tables for the Thursday Farmer's Market, with rows of bright gold,green and red fruit and vegetables.

Hot dog vendors, everywhere, and yes, we succumbed and ordered two. We slathered them with mustard then sat upon a short wall amongst trees resembling an orchard growing out of concrete. Friends smiling, talking with heads bent close, laughing and oh, everyone was in such a great mood!

When I first, 14 years ago, got off the plane to come live here in Buffalo, I felt in my heart that people were singing and dancing in the streets. And yesterday--not for the first time, either--I viewed that with my own eyes there in downtown. 

As I said, there's just something about Buffalo.

Tom and I felt we'd been invited to a party. And something else? I felt I'd glimpsed a tiny bit of Heaven,for here were streets where people danced, laughed, sang or just walked with smiling, grateful eyes.

Freedom begins on the inside then flows outward. It colors everything seen with the eyes and felt with the heart, like music played so all can dance and celebrate.



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