Canandaigua: the town that raised me

They say that you are what you eat. To that, I argue that you are where you come from. The place where you learn to spread your wings serves as the launchpad for the rest of your life.

I’ll admit: this is a bold statement. Hear me out. My story is just one example.

I grew up in Canandaigua (pronounced can-an-day-gua), New York, home of… well, nothing. Our biggest “export” is a 16.16 mile long lake. I shouldn’t be so pessimistic, though. It’s one of the Finger Lakes, named by the Native American tribes who once graced the land where I’ve spent my whole life. They called our area the Finger Lakes because all of the lakes are long and skinny (like an old man’s fingers, worn from many years of life).

My father grew up in Canandaigua, too. He lived on Granger Street, right next to my middle school (which was his high school). He was a running back on the football team and ran track. My mother moved to Canandaigua when she was 17 years old. Her best friend/bridesmaid at her wedding was my gym teacher in high school. Many residents say they’ll never come back to our quaint little town. Year after year, however, houses fill up with the same people who’ve called it home for their whole lives.

Our town proved to be another mother for me, teaching me numerous life lessons. I’d consider myself a pretty resilient person. From 18 years of winters lasting from October to May (I wish I was kidding!) to being a Buffalo Bills fan (we are in Western New York, after all), this town has taught me to never give up. Everyone knows everyone in our town, so kindness and grace are both necessary. Many of us don’t identify with the typical “New Yorker” attitude. We like to connect and talk with people, no matter where we are.

After my time at High Point University, I aspire to work for a professional sports team by way of digital marketing and social media management. In this role, resilience, kindness, and openness are all things that are necessities for success. The community that left her mark on me will be with me forever, no matter where I go. I am the person that I am today because of my little old town.

For those that flew their small town nest and said they’d never come back, I relate to you. I was that girl just three years ago. I still am, to some degree. No matter how much I try to push away, my sweet, quaint, beautiful, goofy, cold, humid, loving home always welcomes me back. Every time I return, my personality and traits are reflected right back at me. For that, I am eternally grateful.