MONROE County, New York, USA (North America)

Churchville

August 2018 — My hometown is Churchville, New York. This is a small town that has a lot of charm, located in Monroe County, in the United States. There is a small town at the center of the area that has a few shops and restaurants. When I grew up here it was the 1980’s. I remember loving the ability to walk on the sidewalks into town, to the gas station to get candy, or to the park. In the park I could walk around, play frisbee or soccer, and have fun with other kids. In the winter, the town would set-up the park for ice skating. I had a lot of fun with my friends ice skating in the winter so close to my home. My family and I would walk to the pizza shop down the street from our house. We loved to have dinner or lunch there, or at the little diner on the corner. One thing I did not like about our town is that it was so close to the railroad tracks. The trains were very noisy and would wake me up at night when I was asleep. That was frustrating as I always had a hard time falling back asleep. I also did not like the fact that everyone knew everyone in this town. Everywhere you went you would see someone you knew. Sometimes this was nice, but other times you didn’t want to be bothered when you just wanted to run to the store to get groceries or get some gas at the gas station.

Henrietta

February 2018 — I grew up in a suburb of Rochester, New York known as Henrietta, during the 1960’s. My family had lived in the area for some time, and [content moderated to remove information that might identify the writer] Our home sat on the banks of the Genesee river on Shore Drive. We swam, water skied, and canoed during the beautiful sunny summers. Dad taught me how to fish. Before the river got too polluted, my dad said you could make three casts, and one of those would yield a fish. You could eat the fish back then, too.

Times were different in the 1960’s. Mom kicked us out of the house in the morning, and we roamed until lunch, then she pushed us out again until dinner. No video games. Us neighborhood kids built forts in the woods, and hung out at the Bi-rite Market on Jefferson Road, penny candy being a popular treat during school vacation.

One summer the river flooded. Dad seethed, because the officials refused to release the water from the Mt. Morris dam. Rumor had it that some barrels of toxic waste got lost, and the officials needed to find them before opening the dam. Who knows? However, our house remained dry, because of our high banks. My aunt lived one street over though, and the officials drove us in the back of a high truck down my aunt’s road so she could retrieve some belongings, the water lapping three quarters up the wheel wells. Her house ended up being fine, because it was slightly elevated, and she kept the basement sump pump running.

The fall colors dazzled, with reds, yellows and oranges. Every fall, dad took a day off from his job as manager of [content moderated to remove information that might identify writer]. We leaf peeped and winery hopped among the Bristol hills to the south. Dad would let me take a little sip of wine when the wine tasting lady wasn’t looking. Winters dragged on my parents, though, with copious amounts of shoveling, until the driveway was nothing but a tunnel through snow eight feet high. Only the top of the lamppost showed. As a kid, I loved it. We donned our snowsuits and played all day. We made snowmen, tunneled forts through drifts, and hurled snowballs at each other, until our hands were numb. Mom forced us kids to come in and warm our hands over a pot of boiling water, shaking them until they were no longer white. In those days, I walked a half mile to the bus stop on the corner of Valley View Drive and Jefferson Road, always thankful when the warm bus finally arrived. I remained in the area until 2016, when I decided to escape the snow for my retirement. However, Henrietta remains vivid in my memory.