When people ask us where we are from, the typical response is “Buffalo”. When I have the energy, I say “half way between Buffalo and Rochester”. And in the rare case when I know the person has ties to Western New York, I say “Medina”, hoping I get more than a blank stare.
Scott and I both were raised in the historic village on the Erie Canal. The fact that we graduated together but didn’t start dating until 10 years later is another story for another day. But yes, both hail from the quaint town which until recently could boast more cows per capita than people.
While Scott was raised in Medina proper, I call a farm on the outskirts my home. Horses, a pond, 24 acres of wooded bliss…it’s nothing short of idyllic. Of course, there is a dilapidated 1850s farmhouse, but my mom is doing her best to bring it back to its former splendor. Either way, well-water and lack of a central heating system, it’s home.
Because Medina is so small, (good things come in small packages, right?) Scott’s house in the village and my farmstead are a mere 5 minutes apart. But between the two, our historic Medina and quaint Main street are nestled.
Scott and I took a stroll downtown this past weekend, actually pausing to notice the landscape and the layout in a way that we never have. Granted, the “main street” with all of the shops is about two blocks total, it was still a step back for us, reminding us of our youth as well as the decades (centuries?) that came before.
Excited as we are about DC and all things Northern Virginia, we were reminded of where we come from, and we all know that if you really want to know a man, you must know from whence he hails.
We hail from the heartthrob of the Erie Canal. Our beautiful, historic, Medina New York.