The Love Child Chronicles

By lovechild

Buffalo Road Shrine

As a teenager, I had a really good friend named Henry, who was two years older than me and could drive. On very boring weekends, which were often at that time in our lives, we would get in his car and drive around.

I will never forget the night he asked, "Do you want to see Christ On The Cross? It's really scary!"

"Sure," I replied. After all, how scary could that be after vampires, werewolves, and clowns?

We lived in Vestal, New York, and drove across the Susquehanna River to Endicott one dark, yet clear evening during July. It was hot outside and our windows were down as we drove up the steep streets of the North Side, where street lights were sparse.

Henry turned off his headlights as we approached the "sacred" area. He stopped the car and prepared me.

"Okay. I'm going to turn on me brights and let's see if he's here tonight."

The lights came on, and sure enough, through the light fog and pitch dark, in the glow of the lights, was Christ On The Cross! I'm not kidding you! He was there only for a brief moment, but we shrieked and quickly sped off down the hill.

Years later, I learned that an old cemetery had once been there, and that the graves were moved when the land was sold for development.

I discovered this shrine about 12 years ago. It was built decades ago by an Italian man who worked in stone. Every so often, when I am in Endicott visiting family, I walk up here and meditate.

This morning, before we left to drive back to New Jersey, I took the long, steep walk up Oak Hill Avenue to the shrine and paid a visit. I thought it would make a perfect Blip for the end of April.

There are statues of St. Joseph, The Virgin Mary, St. Anthony, and many crucifixes and sets of rosary beads inside the man made "cave." I love to sit on the bench and absorb the faith that is inside this space, as it is filled with love and memories of cherished people.

Candles are always burning inside, and someone pays the electric bill to keep the spotlights burning inside.

The local cemetery is long gone, with houses built up over the entire area, yet this small parcel of land remains untouched; blessed and cherished by those who live nearby.

I respect all religions and will always remember the nights I visited this area and visited Christ On The Cross.

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