Editor’s Note: Sharon Bailey is an opinion columnist with Niagara Gazette and the Lockport-Union Sun & Journal. The views expressed in this commentary are her own. Read more opinion at CNN.
My hometown of Buffalo certainly has endured its share of sadness this past year.
In May, a White gunman walked into a Tops supermarket in the city’s Masten District, a historically African American community, killing 10 people in a racially motivated attack.
Misery heaped upon misery last month, when a snowstorm dubbed the Blizzard of ’22 claimed dozens of lives in Buffalo and its first-ring suburbs, leaving thousands without power, closing businesses for several days and clogging roads with disabled vehicles.
Now the city is grappling with the grievous near-death injury to a player on our beloved Buffalo Bills football team. Safety Damar Hamlin suffered cardiac arrest during the game last Monday night against the Cincinnati Bengals; thankfully, his prognosis is moving in a positive direction, but this fearful moment hit a city that was already hurting. Many Buffalonians have talked of little else since.
The collective pain is almost too much to bear. And yet, it’s the kind of adversity Buffalonians are well rehearsed in dealing with.
Yes, tragedies sometimes elevate Buffalo to national news. But here’s something folks from elsewhere might not know about us: For all the stories of difficulty, there are almost as many about how we look out for each other.
A case in point: Long before the May 14 Tops supermarket shooting, Bills safety Micah Hyde had scheduled a charity softball game and silent auction to benefit his Imagine for Youth Foundation.
In what seemed an unfortunate coincidence, his event was set for May 15 – one day after the shooting. But rather than cancel it, Hyde held his charity event anyway, donating the proceeds to the shooting victims’ families.
Such good Samaritan stories and tales of heroism are not new to me. In 2017, I moved to Niagara Falls, NY, just 20 miles north of Buffalo, but I grew up in the heart of its Black community, just two blocks from the Tops supermarket.
I’ve lived through several catastrophic blizzards in Buffalo, including the 1977, the “October Surprise of 2006” and two “Snovembers” – in 2000 and 2014. Each time, I got to see firsthand the goodness of the residents of Western New York. It’s something of a Buffalo specialty, particularly during our legendary winters. Helping each other is what we do.
Much of the country has heard about one particular hero of last month’s snowstorm: Jay Withey, a mechanic in the nearby town of Cheektowaga who forged out into December’s storm to help a trapped friend – but got caught in the snow himself.
His resourcefulness led him to break into a school building where he was able to shelter not just with his rescued friend, but with some 20 other people he rescued from the storm. Many, if not all of them, would have certainly perished if not for his quick thinking.
Buffalonians don’t wait for the cavalry. They are the cavalry.
Here’s something else we Buffalonians do: We find the sliver of daylight in our darkest moments.
This NFL season, the Bills played the Chicago Bears on Christmas Eve – one day after the blizzard. The entire city rejoiced when the Bills beat the Bears 35-13. That was true whether you were one of the fortunate ones who didn’t lose power and were able to watch the game, or if you monitored the action via transistor radio fetched from your attic.
For a lot of Western New Yorkers, the Bills are a spark in good times and bad – win, lose or draw. That’s never truer than now, as we monitor – and find inspiration in – Hamlin’s continuing recovery.
People across the world are praying for #3, Hamlin’s assigned jersey number, but nowhere are those collective prayers more fervent than among those of us who love and root for the team whose name is emblazoned on the front of his uniform. And we will keep vigil for him until he fully recovers. That’s what folks in Buffalo do, especially for one of our own.
There are a lot of adjectives that are used to characterize Buffalonians. We are described as “resilient,” “tough” and “strong.” And we are. Our nickname – “The City of Good Neighbors” – is also fitting enough.
But if I had to choose another tagline frequently adopted by people in this region, it would be, “Wait for it” – wait for the next adversity, because you know it is surely coming. As is the recovery from whatever blows fate deals us.
The blizzard was an unspeakable tragedy. In some ways, it still is not done with us, as we navigate our collective loss and grief. Yet, it provided a reminder that even the worst tragedies are followed by hope and healing.
Within a week, most homes had power restored, supermarkets reopened, and municipalities downgraded travel bans to travel advisories or completely lifted them altogether. Below-freezing temperatures subsided and near 50-degree temps melted the snow.
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So, we survived Snowmageddon. But it’s only January. More snow is probably on the way. Wait for it.
Until last week’s tragedy, the Bills had been looking pretty good this season. Buoyed by inspiration and affection for their beloved teammate Hamlin, they might make the Super Bowl again. They could even win it all this time. Or – wait for it – they might collapse early in the playoffs.
No matter when the next shoe drops – and wait for it, for it will – we Buffalonians will survive the best way we know how, not dwelling on the things we can’t control and acting on the things we can.