UTW: Aerating My Lawn (alternatively-titled “Time For Oversharing”)

This is the last deep post for a while on a topic many of you are surely tired of: the death of the Mohawk Place. If I know you’re tired of it, why do I keep typing?

Because I’m sitting here on Saturday morning, watching soccer, listening to Wheat and just crushed. I’m not sure what it says about me. I love my family and my life, but I’ll be damned if this building’s final weekend isn’t attempting to knock down all of my walls. I won’t be there for the final few hours of rock, roll and revelry… and that’s probably fair although terribly sad. What was once a thrice-weekly destination for me has become the place I hoped to hit once every other week and was fortunate if I found a show once a month.

If I really dwell on it — and I am really dwelling on it — it’s because the Mohawk Place was a college of sorts. The way some people speak of their alma mater as the place they got loose and ran wild, and believe me as a UB guy… I get that, I think about Mohawk. I spent my 20th 21st, and 22nd birthdays there (Probably a few more, too). It was the place I met friends, met up with friends and brought my friends. The strongest bonds I forged were rarely tested there, rather fortified. I fell deeper in love with my wife there, performed there, in a sense a part of my life (touring “musician”) died there.

So while it’s annoying and perplexing to some — and I get it — to read so many love letters to a building and memories, it’s about the only thing that’s helping. From miles and miles away, from the person I was, from the person I hope to be, from the great friends I have to the ones who’ve drifted to the ones who no longer bear the title, I hope the spirits feel my love as they drift off to a land with no new memories but crates, boxes and bottles of great, old ones… goodnight, Hawk. This breakdown’s for you.

7 Responses to UTW: Aerating My Lawn (alternatively-titled “Time For Oversharing”)

  1. Pat Martin says:


    Get over it. Ask anyone who has lived through the closing of Chevy Delevan, the Steel Plant, Republic Steel, etc. I can’t feel sorrow for the undending lamentations of a the oft-pampered, non-calloused hands of a whining suburban kid.

    • Nick says:

      You’re right. You know everything about me, about the jobs I’ve held outside of media (you know: the ones where I made peoples front-yard dirt look purty and cooked them dinner). And you know what? I am SO SORRY there weren’t any steel plants open during my nascent industry years. You also know that my relatives didn’t suffer from the closings of those plants, which is sweet. Ancestry.com or Geni? OH, and you know what’d be slick? If you held any emotional connections to a school, church, restaurant or anything that closed. But hey, you’re just hanging out with a fake name and fake email, trolling a guy’s web page on a post he didn’t promote. Thanks for the traffic and keep thinking I’m a Son of Privilege. That’s awesome sauce.

      • Leelee Phoenix says:

        Pat’s post was uncalled for.

        Although, everyone that works in the media is privileged.

        Now that I think about it, both my grammar and high schools are closed. My “church” is closed. My former hangout is closed. That’s depressing. I suppose there’s validity that the main tourist attraction in Buffalo is staring at old, decrepit buildings.

  2. Mike says:

    Ah the places of our youth. We build them up in our minds to idealized versions of themselves. Then we go there later and they’re smaller, more rundown. You feel out of place. You realize you can’t ever go back to the place you knew because it really existed for you in 2001, in 1994, in 1982….It’s really the memories that we have of those places that are important. As long as you have your wife, your family, you, you’ll have a lasting gift from Mohawk Place because none of those things would really be the same without it.

  3. Flouse Rusk says:

    Wow Pat Martin,

    You are way off base. That’s all. Thank you and goodnight.