Tag Archives: #connecticut

Happy Memorial Day

Norwich’s largest Civil War memorial can be found on the Chelsea Parade of the “Millionaires’ Triangle.”

Here in the United States it is Memorial Day. For many, it is the unofficial start of summer and a day off work and school to gather with family and friends for picnics and barbecues. The true intent of the day is to reflect on the lives lost defending the United States in times of war.

This is my first Memorial Day in Norwich, Connecticut, my new home. We are one of the oldest cities in the country dating back to 1659…founded 39 years after the Pilgrims landed just up the coast in Plymouth, Massachusetts. My walks are steeped in history. Native Americans and English settlers fought wars here against each other and against other tribes. This city was active in the American Revolution. The Sons of Liberty met at a tavern that still stands to discuss strategy and foment revolution. America’s great general and even greater traitor Benedict Arnold was born here. And, yes, George Washington once slept here.

The men of Norwich have been represented in all of our wars. The city’s greatest tributes go to the men of Norwich who fought in the American Civil War. Norwich was as Yankee as they come. Norwich began the process of outlawing slavery before America was a country in 1774. The city was a critical hub on the Underground Railroad. The city was surprisingly unified in abolitionism, and Abraham Lincoln even spoke here during his first presidential campaign. City Hall still has the banner from his visit preserved for all to see. There are at least three Civil War memorials in the city, commemorating the lives of Norwich men who served and/or died so that others could be free and the nation reunited.

Here lies a Union soldier who died a prisoner of war at the horrifying prison camp in Andersonville, Ga.

Our cemetery is the most poignant memorial, as you can visit the actual graves of some of those men who were transported home after their final battle and lain to rest. The most powerful tombstones are those of the 9 soldiers brought back from mass graves dug at Andersonville, Georgia. If you are not familiar with Andersonville, it was the prototype of a concentration camp 80 years before World War II. Run by a German immigrant for the Confederacy, tens of thousands of Union prisoners of war were trapped in a confined prison yard with no sanitation, barely any drinking water and even less food. Photos of the men who survived were walking skeletons, skin stretched tightly over their bones.

About 15 soldiers from Norwich were known to have died at Andersonville. Norwich sent a man to retrieve all of their bodies the minute the war officially ended. He discovered 10 and was able to return 9 to our graveyard. The 9 are in a circle surrounding a flag pole and parrot gun (rifled cannon used in the Civil War). Surrounding them are dozens, if not hundreds of Civil War veterans who lived through the war and chose to be buried with their comrades who perished decades earlier.

Given Norwich’s abolitionist history, it can be little doubted these soldiers were mostly intent on freeing the slaves. Perhaps some even wanted black Americans to have the same rights and equal standing as white Americans. It was not an uncommon idea among 19th century abolitionists. Others might have fought to restore the union and deal a blow to the “states’ rights” argument that didn’t start gaining a lot of traction until after many southern states had already seceded from the Union under a pro-slavery banner.

The Civil War ended 157 years ago, and, yet, issues of equality have not been resolved and “states’ rights” sentiments have grown strong–along with voter suppression efforts–in the past 22 years.

As I reflect on this Memorial Day about those who gave their life for this country, I especially wonder what the ghosts of Norwich’s Civil War veterans would have to say about our modern society that is actively roiling in the issues they might have thought they resolved with their sacrifices so long ago.

We’ve Moved…Again…& Whatever Happened to the Great American Motel?

We have a guard toad, so watch out. He might spray you with toxins. Nature lover that I am, I love having an “American toad” living on and near our front porch.

Greetings from Gales Ferry, Connecticut! What a crazy, unpredictable journey life is. My fiancé found her dream job, and I sure wouldn’t say no. I have now lived from coast to coast. When I was just a lad, I used to spend a lot of my summers on the East Coast. My dad is from New Jersey, and we’d visit relatives most summers, with a final destination often in Cape Cod, Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard. My Great Aunt Florence lived in Connecticut, and while I remember visiting her and her sister Helen with regularity, I can’t say I really remembered much of Connecticut besides them and Florence’s rambunctious dog.

(Even as a really little kid I was a total history buff, and I loved that Florence and Helen–who lived deep into their 90s–were the daughters of a Civil War veteran. Their dad, who fought for the Union at Manassas and Gettysburg, was in his forties or fifties when they were born, and their earliest memories were playing Teddy Roosevelt charging San Juan Hill with the Rough Riders. I loved listening to their stories, and they loved having a little kid around who would actually sit and listen to them.)

In all fairness, the last time I was in Connecticut was likely 35 years ago. I really don’t remember it being this hilly…and natural! I lived in Montana for nearly a decade, and it took me years to see as much wildlife as I’ve seen in a week in Connecticut. I swear. Although I haven’t seen them, yet, I’ve heard at least two owls hooting up a magnificent storm over several nights now. There are plenty of deer. My fiancé has seen a fox. We have bats eating all of our bugs at night. A marble salamander lives in our backyard and an American toad lives on our front porch. Little red crabs live not 5 miles from here in the brackish waters of the mouth of the Thames River as it connects to the Atlantic Ocean. And to think I was expecting massive urban sprawl from New York City. I love it.

Best of all, even though it is hot and humid, people understand that wearing masks in public during a pandemic will save lives! The results: yesterday made two days in a row with Connecticut not reporting any Covid-19 deaths. When we drove through Ohio virtually nobody we saw was wearing a mask. Virtually everybody we’ve seen wears a mask in New York, Massachusetts and Connecticut. Aside from grocery runs, we’ve had to quarantine for 14 days, but that’s nothing compared to the lockdown this past spring. We have far too much to do unpacking our lives and the pen business.

Our move was a bit harrowing, especially driving through Tropical Storm Fay. Yet, what really got me was the decline of the classic American motel…and hotels, in general. Pre-Covid I traveled the country to at least 7 different pen shows a year. Plus, I have done a ton of traveling throughout much of my life.

We found this Marble Salamander living in our backyard. I had never seen a real, live wild salamander before. This place is awesome.

As a kid in the 1980s, we traveled every summer by car. We stayed at motels all of the time. Days Inn, Super 8, Holiday Inn, Knights Inn and any number of mom & pop operations were the norm from Midwest to the East Coast to the Deep South to the vast expanse of California. With only one or two exceptions, they were all clean, safe and homey. Yeah, the towels, sheets and blankets were a little scratchy from too much bleach. No, we didn’t have all the space to lay stuff out like at home. BUT, there was no mold, the paint was never peeling from anything, we never worried about bedbugs or cockroaches, everything worked as it should…and if something didn’t, they sent a maintenance man right away to fix it. These establishments were definitely nice enough to want to go out and explore the great American highway, but they were also just different enough that you’d also be super happy to be back home in your own bed by the end of the trip. Even though the value of a dollar was different in the 1980s, you could get a good, respectable room for about $30 a night in 1985…which comes out to about $65 today.

On this specific trip, we couldn’t find a hotel room for less than $100 a night. (Admittedly, we were traveling with a cat, which I never did as a kid.) Yet, every hotel we stayed in was bad to terrible. Apparently, nobody wants to bleach out a hotel bathroom any more. Every single motel had a ton of mold in the bathroom. Even at pen shows in Double Tree and Hilton hotels, which are supposed to be the classy joints, I find mold all around the bathtub…and those places start at charging around $150 a night. On our trip we stayed at mostly name-brand motels. Paint was peeling off the showers and walls. Stains were all over the carpets. One hotel where we ultimately didn’t stay had boogers all over the wall of one bathroom and mud in the bottom of the tub. In the second room they offered us the room had cockroaches. All for the low, low price of $100 a night plus taxes! We had another hotel where the A/C didn’t work.

While I am grateful there were any places open at all during a pandemic…and while I appreciate labor isn’t cheap…a gallon of bleach isn’t going to set anyone back. I’ve cleaned enough bathrooms to know that even just squirting bleach on mold will likely kill it and maybe even remove it without much, if any, scrubbing. I would think that a bucket of paint and a steam-cleaning rug vacuum would be pretty standard motel and hotel items. For $100 to $200 a night, a clean, mold-free room doesn’t seem too much to ask.

When we got to our new house, the old tenants had left behind a glossy travel magazine whose issue was dedicated to hotel glamour. Dawn and I laughed. The magazine spoke so lovingly about the comforts and joys of hotel living, and all we could think of was how the writers and editors clearly haven’t stayed in an average hotel or motel in ages.