Trending
This week's essay is a collection of random observations and perspectives regarding Dunkirk and Fredonia. (If anyone wants to question me about this, my lawyer has advised me to exercise my right to plead the fifth.)
Something stinks in Dunkirk. I'm not talking about the eruptions that sometimes heat up City Hall. It's about the air in the Fourth ward, where the ice cream factory continues to have a big waste management problem. Despite the economic boom it promises (like 260 new jobs when it’s all done), the bad smell continues. Combined with the smoky air drifting our way from fires out west, most evenings at about 6, the southern ward smells like smoked sewage, which is something very different from what County Exec PJ Wendel has celebrated as "sweet success."
In Fredonia, the prevailing attitude regarding the water issue is one of exasperation and resignation. The general population, tired of boiling orders and the caustic tone of the debate, seem to have assumed the "whatever" stance: "I don't understand it, and I really don't care. Just get it done," they say. I say that is a shame. It appears Fredonians have been duped and muted. I'll leave the fine points to the Save Our Reservoir people (who have already provided plenty of strong evidence through in-depth research); however, as a simple minded person, I will pose two simple questions: Why pay someone else (Dunkirk and the county) for something you can provide for yourself, and at a cheaper long-term rate? Second, as any grade school kid who has learned about gravity might ask, why waste a ton of energy pushing something up a hill when you just could let it flow down the hill.
I'm still amazed every time I drive down the avenue that connects Fredonia and Dunkirk. Apparently there is some binding agreement, grandfathered into forever-law, that requires all cars to stop and wait at Willowbrook Avenue. Maybe it has something to do with giving us the opportunity to meditate on the past; to imagine the glory days of Dunkirk when Willowbrook was a veritable auto parade boulevard for happily employed steel plant workers. And while we wait for the imaginary cars to turn off Willowbrook, there is always the white Jesus in the cemetery across the street reminding us not to cuss out loud.
I've heard that Fredonia has laws in place that restrict the random cutting down of trees, even on private property. I'm not sure about the details, but as one who appreciates trees on several levels, I hope this is true. Trees are part of Fredonia's history, and if they could talk, what a tale they'd tell! From Lafayette to the first gas well. (Those sentences rhyme!) They were born with the Iroquois, and the youngest of them will outlive us all. There is nothing written in the Darwin Barker Historical Museum that an old red oak did not witness. All-things-Fredonia have passed beneath its branches.
Such is not the case in Dunkirk, where lately it seems that trees are being cut down willy-nilly in my neighborhood. Just this summer, five trees have been removed from adjacent yards, and within a few weeks, the view from my windows was transformed from relative shady seclusion to a wide open view of streets and traffic. Without shade or sound insulation, our home is too bright and loud. I especially mourn the loss of a giant weeping willow, whose elegant, graceful dance with the wind used to bring me great pleasure.
On a more positive note, something was brought to my attention by an old Fredonia friend and potter/artist, Ron Nasca. He reminds me that, despite political divisions, there are still people out there whose mission is simply to help those in need. The international humanitarian organization Ron affiliates with is called Empty Bowls, dedicated to raising money for local communities to help feed the hungry. It's an ingenious concept -- a social gathering of potters and the public to foster greater awareness of those less fortunate. While ceramic artists work on their bowls, visitors purchase a simple meal - a bowl of soup with a piece of bread. The bowl is theirs to keep - a symbol of hunger across the world. Chautauqua County has hosted Empty Bowls events for 20 years, and has raised nearly half a million dollars. An event is planned for Nov. 21 at the Wheelock school gym in Fredonia.
Pete Howard, author of “Rosebud Dreamworld,” lives in Dunkirk.