Love Note #13: The deaf and hard of hearing world-wide look to Rochester to improve their lives

Name:Wanda Dulski
Years in Rochester: 31 +
Current Home: 27 years in Pittsford

Rochester Darling, 

You're a classy Northern lady graced with southern manners with a dash of Midwestern values located in the likable four seasons weather of the Genesee Valley region .

My going on 32 years commitment with you parallels your inclusion of National Technical Institute of the Deaf (NTID) into your overall community.  Integration of deaf and hearing hasn't been easy on either of us.  As one person of hearing suggested, us deaf, "always want more & are never satisfied." I could say the same about Rochester -- always asking full fee for services, taxes and an expectation that I be fully present without expecting accessibility in return.

NTID started out isolated & segregated from Rochester; a reflection of times, values and dictation of governmental funds.  Your community's preferential treatment of hearing was obvious despite my being required to pay the same for services, health care, performances, learning and recreational activities.  Most of your barriers continue to stem from pre-supposed loss of revenue, perceived limited resources and fear of being spread even thinner.  You still make the mistake of short-changing our contributions, energy, devotion, faithfulness and tax dollars. 

Still, over the past 30 years I've seen your attitude change from rigidity and blatant, offended refusal to ignorance and resistance and then leading into modification and tolerance.  I'm beginning to see your awareness, accessibility and inclusion spread out more evenly and even as far away as Naples, NY.

Nationwide, 34 million Americans are deaf or hard of hearing. Rochester set the baseline back in the late 1960s when Lyndon B. Johnson personally advocated for and established the National Technical Institute of the Deaf.  The deaf and hard of hearing world-wide look to Rochester to improve their lives.  They look to you to show what access, equality and fairness mean.  Assuring basic human rights for all deaf and hard of hearing is vitally important to all Americans.  Its not a matter of whether the hearing will have a hearing problem, its when and how severe it will be. Rochester is the trailblazer for the rights of Deaf and Caption-Users alike. 

Most Rochesterians are able to finger-spell and sign a few phrases or at least, know now to slow down and face me. I've become courageous about stepping up to ask for what I need.  Both of us have gotten over our shyness.  You call me one of yours.  My special name for you is, "Home, Sweet Rochester."

L, Wanda

Love Note #12: You fostered in me a love of cities

Name: Andrew Cutillo
I am: A recent UofR graduate who got to know the city as a student, intern, volunteer, motorist, concert-goer, Wegmans patron, and more.

Years in Rochester: 4

Current home (away from home): Washington, D.C.

My Dear Rochester,

You filled my head with knowledge and you fostered in me a love of cities. You gave me conversations in cafés and music in the streets. Your oldest relics whispered to me of industry and wealth; of civil rights and equality; of culture and the arts. These voices still reverberate, from renovated concert hall to abandoned subway, and the stories they tell will always serve as the exposition from which future narrators craft their tales. 

With all my summers away, I don't know how to pin our relationship (on-again, off again?). Perhaps I have more of my own story to craft with you, perhaps not. However the plot unfolds, I am so thankful for our time together. You are truly remarkable, and you welcomed me with such open arms. You let me march in your parades, chow down in your diners, and shop in your local "Oh-wow-is-this-really-a-grocery-store?!"

I will always have a reason to return to my "beloved college home beside the Genesee," but you lend extra pull to that cause. I will continue to keep a keen eye towards your growth, and look forward to the many great things ahead for you! I remain,

Very truly yours,

Andrew Cutillo

Love Note #11: An Apology

Name: Amanda Geraghty

I am: 25 years old, and Weekend Assignment Editor at 13WHAM news

Years in Rochester: 23

Current home: Gates-grew up in the South Wedge

To the city I love, my first love, the one undeniable love that will follow me all the days of my life:

I'm sorry.

I have been awful to you. While you have held me since birth, and all my 25 years, I have not been faithful.

I have walked your sidewalks, drank in your bars, laid in your parks, and kissed under your street lights. I have laughed and loved on your streets.

I have abandoned you.

I went West, and loved another city, all but replacing you in my heart. Then, when that city betrayed me and I couldn't bear to be there, I ran to you, and you enveloped me again, without judgement.

I fell in love with you in a whole new way. There are new parts of you to enjoy, and my favorite places feel more like home than ever before.

There are parts of you that are broken and need mending. Just like me.

Together, we can fix our broken parts.

I would be a rudderless ship without you. A wanderer with no real place to anchor.

I have been a selfish child, and I'm sorry. I have learned how to truly appreciate you, and no city can ever replace you. I know that now.

You are scarred. You are burned. You are broken.

But, my sweet Rochester, you are so beautiful. Everyday, you somehow steal my heart and make it you're again.

As I sit here on South Avenue in my favorite neighborhood and watch the cars go by, you inspire me.

You are stronger than I could ever hope to be.

Just the mere fact that you accepted me after leaving you and being unfaithful is humbling.

But you have allowed me to succeed-fostering new friendships, building a new relationship (that I have you to thank for), giving me an education, and helping me find a career.

All those things would never be possible in the same place without you.

You made me who I am.

Thank you.

Rochester, my darling, my love, I'm so sorry for what I have done to you. I will never be able to make up for what I have done.

But if you let me try, we can both be stronger, and heal.

All my love, all my days.

Amanda Geraghty

Love Note #10: I know I love you when we're apart

Name: Michael Brown

I Am: Originally from Irondequoit but now living in the city and working to complete my Ph.D. in American history at the U of R

Years in Rochester: The first eighteen years of my life and the last ten, with a five-year  departure in the middle

Current Home: East Avenue near Culver Road

Dear Rochester,

I feel a bittersweet kind of love for you when I am literally flying away. On all those weeks when I’m tangled up in town—dashing from the U of R to the public market to the Rundel to Charlotte—you feel so full. You’re full of people that I love, full of places that I cherish, full of memories in which the story of my life is etched. 

And then there I am speeding down the runway at your grandly named Greater Rochester International Airport, hangars and houses rushing by as I look out the little oval window of my plane bound for JFK, ATL, EWR, ORD, or BWI.  We’re quickly above the trees, and I see the cars on Chili Avenue or 390. There’s the dome of Rush Rhees Library and the auburn-tiled brilliance of Monroe Community Hospital. Then the little plane banks and curves, circling around downtown and exposing a panorama that opens all the way to Lake Ontario’s unbounded bluish-gray expanse. A second later—just a second—we’re over farmers’ fields: green in summer, golden brown in spring and autumn, white in winter. The city that seemed so full is quickly swallowed up by the vastness of the land around it. On overcast days, the disappearance is even quicker. I see your skyline for just a moment before a curtain of clouds closes over the scene.

How compact you are!  How much it seems, from that airplane window, that I can hold all of you—memories, people, and places—in the hollow of my hand.  

              Sincerely,
              Michael

Source: http://www.city-data.com/picfilesv/picv25424.php

Love Note #9: I want to thank you for being my happy place

Name: Mary Staropoli
I am:  Mother of two beautiful daughters (9 & 6 yrs old), wife of a pretty awesome husband, member of a kick-ass family, neighborhood and city enthusiast, non-profit administrative professional (currently working for Rochester Downtown Development Corporation)
Years in rochester:  18 childhood years + 11 adulthood years = 29 years
Current home:  Highland Park neighborhood

Dear Rochester,

I write this love note sitting on a bench in Highland Park, my happy place. In fact, this whole city is my happy place. But I haven't always thought of you this way. I’m a Rochester native, born and raised here. I was the product of a self-doubting city (did they teach it in school?), and when I left for college, I was one of those people who said, "I'll never come back here." Rochester was for losers. I was going out into the big wide world and was going to stay there, thank you very much. I stayed away summers, and didn't spend more than a few nights back home over school breaks. I spent about 10 yrs living in the fine city of Boston, a place with a constant hum, with national sports teams, with shopping and culture galore. But it was a lonely place, full of transients, and community was hard to come by. I didn't know my neighbors and they didn't know me. When I went to the grocery store, the chances of running into a familiar face were slim to none. I was anonymous, disconnected. The decision to return to Rochester (dragging along my Boston native husband) was mainly due to my large and loving family calling me, and because it was a place we could afford to buy a nice house where we would start a family.

Returning as an adult, I began to see Rochester through a different lens, and what I saw was...
 -A town full of neighborhoods like mine (Highland Park) where people are connected to each other, and passionate about where they live
 -A town small enough to see people you know everywhere you go (and have fun figuring out your degrees of separation), but big enough that you will always keep meeting new and interesting people
 -A town that's "Big enough to get Springsteen. Small enough to get tickets.*"
 -A town with more festivals and culture than I could ever take in
 -A town where I can take my kids to a great ballpark without breaking the bank
 -A town with beautiful parks to enjoy, and in short driving distance to gorgeous natural sights and places to visit
 -A town with short commutes, where everything I need is in a 5-10 minute radius, so I get to spend my time doing things I care to do
 -A town with four unique seasons, where I've learned to embrace the beauty and fun of winter

I could go on.

Over the years I developed first a defensiveness, then an outright pride in my hometown. In fact, put me on a plane seated next to a stranger and I'm a traveling promotional advertisement for the place.

So I'm writing to say that I'm sorry I ever wrote you off, Rochester. You're one cool chick. And I want to thank you for being my happy place.

Love,

Mary

*Taken from a VisitRochester promo ad

Love Note #8: I have left you but I'll always love you.

Name: Evan Lowenstein

I am: Dad, husband, from Painted Post in the Southern Tier, eternally awestruck by nature and humanity and committed to preserving both"

Years in Rochester: 1999-2013

Current Home: Charlottesville, Virginia

Dear Rochester, 

I have left you but I'll always love you. 

I will miss...

...the peace of Highland Park under a blanket of fresh snow

...bumping into friends at the Market

...apple shopping at the Market on a crisp fall day, coffee in hand 

...the smiles and laughter of kids busting through the doors of School 23 

...the kindness of my neighbors on my beloved Arlington Street 

...my beautiful--and affordable--masterpiece of an old house  

...the cooling breezes off the Lake on a hot summer day 

...the breathtaking beech trees 

...greeting folks on their porches on a sultry summer night 

...saying I share a hometown with Frederick Douglass and Susan B. Anthony 

...the civic pride and spirit that makes Rochester so special 

Thank you for fourteen wonderful years. I hope I gave as much as I received. 

Evan Lowenstein

Love Note #7: I'm destined to be with you.

I am: Roc_Guardian
Current Home: Monroe Village
Years in Rochester: For life, except for college 

My Dearest Rochester,

I don't mean to be too forward, but I think I'm destined to be with you. This might seem silly coming from someone of my youth, but I have never been more sure of anything in my life. We've known each other for a long time, and the I older I get, the deeper my feelings for you grow.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I've found that to be true. Every time I came home from college to see you, I realized why I could never really leave. When all the girls I met were stuck-up, selfish and boring, you were wholesome, down to earth, and full of surprises.   

So I've returned home, planted my roots, and give my life up to you. After this day, there is no woman in this world who could tear me from your side. I just hope that you can share with me your many ways of love, and we can grow old together, basking in the light of a world we have worked so hard to improve.  

Yours eternally, 

ROC_Guardian

Love Note #6: You seduced me with your sophisticated and educated charm, Mr. Rochester.

We'll let Rochester be addressed as a man just this one time (notice what angst HE causes the author) with a note originally posted to The Sensory Cart 

Name: Stacey Rowe

I am: Communications/Marketing/PR pro presently seeking new adventures

Years in Rochester: 19.5 years

Current home: Rochester, NY

Dear Mr. Rochester,

I can't say that I never thought we'd reach this point. Alas, I think the moment is upon us.

I remember when we first met. I was just a child, but when visiting my grandmother, I recall the sense of dangerous attraction I felt overlooking High Falls from the revolving top of the First Federal Building in the early 1980s.  We would not meet again until I was 16 and in search of colleges.  In 1994 I arrived and began to make a life with you. Yes, Mr. Rochester, we've actually been together for nearly twenty years.

In my mid-twenties, my father warned me about your arrogance and your beautiful but damned existence. "I don't know who these Rochester people think they are," he said, forgetting he had married my born-Rochestarian mother. True to his Syracuse roots, I labeled him as resentful of the place that I thought could offer me more both culturally and economically.

You seduced me with your sophisticated and educated charm, Mr. Rochester. I fell hard for your proximity to water, your museums, and rich history. The trappings of high-end retailers, fine dining, country clubs with beautifully maintained golf courses, fundraisers, and personalities bigger than their britches certainly have provided a lot of social entertainment. There have been nights we've happily celebrated successes together and nights where you've managed to make a drunken fool of me. You've even dressed up as a woman for me on several occasions, but that was all in good fun.

I think that sometimes you forget that I've also seen your darker side, that flawed side of you that causes people to turn off the news at night.  I worked with the last of your Holocaust survivors drawing pictures of German soldiers. I walked door to door in neighborhoods ridden with poverty, filing missing person reports on your children. I've found razor blades lodged in my windshield wipers in said neighborhoods where, at the time, home tutors were being raped. I've experienced "good-old-boy," top-heavy, glass-ceiling management. I've seen your elders fall short of funds in senior housing communities only to be sent somewhere where medicaid payment is accepted but laden with state deficiencies and questionable care. I've had five car accidents here. I've been stalked, stolen from, yelled at, harassed, snowed in, and ice-stormed with no power for five days. Truth be told, I wouldn't change any of it because you have made me stronger. In fact, you have made me who I am.

Despite all of the ties that bind us together, lately I've noticed we seem to be drifting apart.  I suppose I can't blame you entirely.  We've had our share of indiscretions.  There was that time in 2003 when I contemplated leaving you for Arizona. Then again in 2006 when the vapid narcissism of southern California called my name. Neither could offer me the commitment I wanted and so I stayed out of loyalty and sadly, fear of the unknown.  I started to feed the urge to leave you by traveling halfway around the world and back, but ultimately you couldn't fulfill the financial resources it would take for me to continue that hobby. Over the past few years I traveled less and tried to make a life worth living here. I became more involved in volunteerism and community service at organizations that I believe make a difference in your well-being but ultimately, I'm just not sure it's enough. I suppose I could do even more for you. I could sport a myriad of apparel or accessories proclaiming my love and adoration for you.  But you and I both know I've never been one for public displays of affection; and I'm certainly not into something previously enjoyed by one of your other women.

I've questioned your fidelity because you've been reckless with me, Mr. Rochester. You've left me jobless three times now, and brokenhearted more times than I care to recall. Thankfully, I'm resilient enough to wind up on both feet and better off each time, but I'm forced to wonder when my luck will run out. We're both aware of my intelligence and talents; and I'm certainly more Catherine Linton vs. plain Jane Eyre in the looks department.  And yet, sometimes you look right through me as if I don't exist. At 37 years old I'm without a husband, children, or a career that fulfills me.  I've given you the best damn years of my life, Rochester. Why must you continue to deny me of the very basic needs that could keep me here forever?

I implore you to give me a reason to stay, Rochester. Now please forgive me as I throw your own words back in your face while I question the fate of our future together and know that this is not about hating you or falling out of love. It's simply knowing when it's time to let go: "Since happiness is irrevocably denied me, I have a right to get pleasure out of life: and I will get it, cost what it may."

(Quote from Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë)

Love Note #5: Charlotte/Rochester/Home

Name: Bryan Horn
I Am: Teacher

Years in Rochester: 1975-1998; back 4-5 times a year, 38 years old

Current Home: Brewster, NY

Dear Rochester,

Your name represents a city divided by suburban sprawl and economic disparity, but your name is a steady and stalwart reminder of all that was and all that can be, with some "shoulda" and "coulda" sprinkled on top. Despite the numerous suburbs surrounding the Genesee Falls and the downtown city-scape, when I run into people from Fairport and Greece and Pittsford, they all say they're from Rochester and that means something. I am from Charlotte and I say Rochester but I write of Charlotte: of biker bars, expensive beach-front homes, summer crime, the smell of fish-fry fro the LDR and the home of the Lighthouse rising into the sky. Despite living 5 hours away, you're always there when I call. Thanks for being you, Rochester.

Love,

Bryan 

Love Note #4: Your Winters Test My Fidelity, but I Still Love You

Name: Trista Wilson 

I Am: mom and teacher with a love/hate relationship with Rochester winters but figures it’s probably time to get over it and just go sledding

Years in Rochester: 20 years in total 

Current Home: Highland Park Neighborhood 

My Dearest Rochester,

I know I have not always been faithful. I left you briefly for Buffalo. But please know that she cannot ever compete with you my darling. Sure, her chicken wings were scrumptious. But she doesn’t have your garbage plate. I must also confess that I had a fleeting fling with Oswego. And although you can be cold for about 9 months of the year, she was downright frigid. Please don’t take offense. I love all of your seasons, I do. But you have to admit my dear, that on your sunny days, life is quite wonderful. I can visit Lake Ontario and enjoy a chocolate almond ice cream at Abbotts. In the fall there is hiking, apple picking and trick-or-treating. And even on your coldest days, I know I can always enjoy gingerbread creations at the George Eastman House, a movie at the Cinema, ice-skating at Manhattan Square Park, or a cross-country ski in Highland Park. So my love, I hope you will consider taking me back. I promise to be loyal, at least until mid-February, and then I may need a temporary tryst with Florida.

All my love,

Trista

Love Note #3: Brownfields as Opportunity

Name: Laura Fox

I Am: urban planner, secret farmer, food truck enthusiast

Years in Rochester: on and off all my life, officially in Rochester as an “adult” for the past 5 months

Current Home: 14618

Dear Rochester,

You’re rusty and I love you for it. Signs of your former shine are all over town, but I’m more interested in the messes you’ve made. My daily drive to work downtown takes me on the inner loop, which tells the story of the divorce between your downtown and your neighborhoods, then past parking lots that stay empty and abandoned properties that appear to be long forgotten. On the surface you look pretty strung out, but you have a way of demanding a second glance. I’m increasingly looking around the corner and finding something worth exploring and fewer reasons to make a disparaging comment about you not being a “real city.” Better yet, your admirers are committed to righting past wrongs by cleaning up your brownfields, developing parking lots and filling in the inner loop. You aren’t imagining that you’re staging a comeback, it’s happening. 

Rochester, you’ve made me a staunch defender of cities and have made me want to make cities better. I unwittingly became an urban planner so that I could move back here to help connect the dots of all that is promising and true and lovable about you.  I see opportunity in your blighted lands and abandoned buildings and thankfully so do many of your other admirers.

Love,

Laura

Love Note #2: Don't Touch That Dial

Name: Ana Liss

I am: part of the economic development team in the NYS Executive Chamber; Rochester lover; southpaw 

Years in Rochester: 21 if you count birth through high school graduation and 2.5 years working there as an adult

Current Home: Albany, NY

Dear Rochester,

I live about 202 miles away from you now, well outside range of your satellite signals. But I can’t bring myself to change the presets on my car radio. The order on the FM dial is 88.5/90.5/91.5/93.3/94.1/95.1/96.5/97.9/98.9/100.5/101.3/102.3/103.9/106.7/107.3; and my AM presets are simply 1180 and 1370. I miss Beth Adams’ voice anchoring my morning commute, and the Saturday funk parties on WDKX. But maintaining the stations right where they are on the dash of my Honda is somehow reassuring in an uncertain, callous world. 

The act of changing them just seems so permanent and wrong. Like, if I did, it would be akin to switching football teams…giving up carbs…or becoming a citizen of a different country.

Sometimes, when I come home to visit family, I’ll park my car along Buckingham Street, where I used to live. I walk around like it’s still my neighborhood, and I shop at East Ave. Wegmans as though it’s still my grocery store. I’ll even buy milk, despite the 3.5-hour drive back to Albany. 

I think I fell in love with you sometime when it was dark, in the dead of winter, when snowflakes were quietly falling on the ice below the Broad Street Aqueduct. I may have been snug in a booth at Dinosaur BBQ, looking out the window. 

You’re just wonderful. You make me feel warm when it’s freezing. You give me comfort when life is harsh.

I love you just the way you are. The same goes for my car radio presets. 

Love,

Ana

Love Note #1: Bike Kids

Name: Tanya Mooza Zwahlen

I am: Wife, mother of two, city planner, Massachusetts native

Years in Rochester: 10

Current Home: Highland Park

Dear Rochester: On Wednesday, August 24, 2011, my five year old daughter, Claire, learned to ride her bike without training wheels. I stood in the road with four or five of my neighbors and their kids for several hours that day, watching as they rode up and down the street. Every few minutes someone would yell, “CAR!” and we would step to the curb to let a car pass.

Sometime around dusk, a group of 30 bicyclists turned onto the far end of our block. I remember hearing a boom box and seeing the group move quietly down the first half of the street. After a few seconds, a few of them let go of their handlebars, sat up and clapped their hands. One of them excitedly shouted Claire’s name, and they all hooted and hollered. She stopped pedaling in little circles around the street and looked at them in amazement. We all did.

After a few seconds, they were upon us. Thirty people on bikes. Taking up the width of the street. All of them smiling. A few of them high-fived Claire. One of them was our next door neighbor, Scott.

The group was Critical Mass, whose purpose is to “celebrate cycling and to assert cyclists’ right to the road.” They choose different routes each week. That night, Scott had shared with them the story of Claire learning to ride, and suggested they swing down Mulberry Street to congratulate her.

As quickly as they had come and enveloped us with cheers, they were gone. Off to explore the rest of the city. Those few moments transformed me. That night, I thought long and hard about this little gesture of encouragement, made by 30 strangers to my daughter, and it made me realize that I really love this city.

It is remarkable in and of itself that Scott, a bachelor, noticed that Claire had learned to ride her bike that day. It is more remarkable that he convinced 30 people, some of whom he didn’t know, to alter the course of their night. That would not have happened in the suburban Massachusetts neighborhood where I grew up. There were no biking advocacy groups cruising down our cul-de-sac. It would not have happened in the North End of Boston, where I lived after college. Critical Mass was active, but the roads were too busy for children to ride and we didn’t know many of our neighbors. I’m not even sure it would have happened in Ithaca, a community known for its appreciation of alternative modes of transportation, where we lived during graduate school.

It happened here, and I am so proud that it did. Rochester, thanks for being a city where people encourage each other. I love you.

Claire (and Hartley) Zwahlen, August 24, 2011, moments before critical mass came down the block.

Coming soon!

Rochester Love Notes is a project inspired by Philly Love Notes, and is intended to provide a platform upon which those of us who are smitten by the Flour City can proclaim our love to the world.

Reach us by email at lovenotesrochester@gmail.com if you have questions, or are interested in being part of the project. Very simply, we're seeking brief love letters - no more than about 600 words - that begin with "Dear Rochester..." We'd love it if you could also submit 1-3 pictures with your letter, too. Nothing inappropriate, of course!

Stay tuned...