Summers were different in the 60’s. Kids ventured out-of-doors right after breakfast and stayed outside till dark, coming inside only when called for lunch, dinner, and bedtime. Bicycles and horses traveled on trails and on roads, exploration of forests and fields was a daily adventure, hide-and-seek, an evening’s neighborhood game, fireflies and shooting stars were nightly entertainment. There were no swimming pools – we swam in rivers and ponds: rivers with their sluggish summer currents and slippery rocks, always cold and refreshing; ponds with their sandy shores and streams of warmth, their turtles and frogs and fish — sharing the water with pond life was part of the fun.
One of the most frequented ponds was the Miller’s on Old Kings Highway. Those familiar with this bucolic place might imagine that its beauty allured us; but it was actually because Nancy Miller taught lessons there. This is where most of us learned to swim. A 1960 Willimantic Chronicle article titled “Swimming Instructions Under Way” announced “Miss Miller resumed her instructions in swimming today…Lessons will be given each day Monday through Friday for two weeks. She will have a beginning and intermediate group, taking ages 5 through 13, with one group meeting from 9:30 to 10:30 and the other 10:30 to 11:30.” Posted on the “Hampton Remembers the 2nd Half of the 20th Century” page, the article prompted many memories:
I learned to swim from Nancy. Margaret Loew
She taught me to swim and dive and Miller’s pond was our swimming place. Christine Schenk
I too remember a few lessons with her. Dave Halbach
I learned to swim there. Alma Pearl Graham
I learned to swim there also! Shirley Scarpino
I saw Nancy this past fall and we talked about all the swimmers she taught over many years. The pond is a beauty spot in town as well as a source of happy memories, including ice skating! Debbie Moshier
That’s how I learned to swim! Mark Davis
Me too. I took lessons from her. So did my brother Bill Pearl. Joanne Page
My brother and I took those classes. Judy Lavoie Osborn
I too learned to swim from Nancy. Jennifer Burr Peterson
Me too! Neal Moon
I remember Nancy and her swim lessons very well! I swam for many years in what we called “Miller’s Pond”, my family lived next door. Judith Schenk Bird
Nancy remembers us, too:
It all started because I took swimming for gym at Windham High School and earned my Junior and Senior Life Saving badges. I proudly sewed them on my black, one-piece, modest swim suits and decided I would see if I could earn some money teaching kids to swim and not be afraid of water. I knew everything about our pond and how deep it was and where the cold springs were when swimming underwater. I knew you had to belly flop off the dock as the water in front of it was not deep enough for a real dive. I learned this the hard way when an out-of-state friend took a real dive and hit her head on the bottom. She came up bleeding on her head and we had to take her to the doctor for stitches.
So how to get parents and kids to know the swimming program was in effect? I was always pretty good with new ideas and I had an idea to get some publicity in the local papers. Eleanor Moon, organist for the Congregational Church and a stringer for the Hartford Courant, was always looking for feature stories and maybe a picture to go with the story. I called her and she agreed to write an article about the new swim program in Hampton and I think that is what started the ball rolling. My brother, George, who worked for the Willimantic Chronicle, put me in touch with a reporter there who also wrote a story about the swim program. After that it was word of mouth and I had no problem having all the students I could manage. I don’t know how many kids learned to swim and hopefully develop a lifelong love for water and swimming because of those fun summer classes.
In those days, every little girl wore a bathing cap and of course came to lessons with it on and wearing a swim suit. I remember walking down Main Street in Willimantic and cute little girls with long hair and dresses on would stop me and say “hello”! It was always a puzzle to figure out who it was without a bathing cap! The program was a huge success for three or four summers, and I earned money to help with my college expenses at UConn.
I saw Nancy, after so many years, at the last Fall Festival, and she has the same youthful, positive energy, and I understood why we all remember her so well and so fondly. I can’t remember much about being five but I remember the back float lesson: “in, out and over”. Of course, as kids, we were interested in the pond and swimming, and probably didn’t pay much attention to the surroundings. These would include the tall, sweeping evergreens framing the pond, the Little River steps away, the home that nestles in between old apple trees, and the beautiful red barn at the water’s edge that completes this Currier and Ives picture.
George Miller, who also grew up on the property, has provided us with information on the barn:
The barn was built in June 1943 for perpetuity. With World War II raging in the Atlantic and Pacific, one neighbor asked if we were building a bomb shelter. The foundation was dug by hand by Richard Kimball and Bernie Edwards, old Hampton residents. Minimum wage in 1942 was 40 cents per hour – Kimball got 50 cents because he was an accomplished stone mason. Kimball built the fantastic double faced foundation with odd stones purchased in Brooklyn – eight feet tall on the road side. My father, George W. Miller, noticed an advertisement in the Willimantic Chronicle that an old mill on Bridge Street, Willimantic was being torn down and Austroski Demolition Company was selling the wooden floor timbers. The floor timbers were purchased and delivered by Austroski and set in place by a huge crane. The main carrying beam runs the entire mid-section of the barn. The rest of the barn was built by Chic Johnson and George Huling, local carpenters. During the Millers 35 year ownership, the barn housed goats, cows, horses, pigs and poultry. In 1946, the barn housed 2000 chickens for market. This barn will stand for perpetuity the way it was constructed.
Current owners, the Newcombes, attest to the sturdiness of the barn; they too have been instrumental in maintaining its integrity. The first project was to reinforce one of the barn’s original posts after noticing that it was bowed. A metal piece was attached to the post and tightened with a turn buckle, remedying the threat of collapse. The second project was resurfacing the cellar floor, where animals were housed and where moisture caused mold to begin to grow on the barn’s beams. The dirt was dug out by hand and replaced with five tons of crushed stone, a drainage pipe for water to flow to the pond was installed and a cement floor was poured. The most recent project was Mike Chapel’s construction of a retaining wall along the pond and a cobble-stone ramp to the barn. Though no longer sheltering livestock, the Newcombes use the barn for storage and as a garage. The barn also houses a pump for the pond’s aeration system.
As plants and algae have consumed so many of our swimming holes of the past, the Newcombes have been vigilant in maintaining the pond. With the help of Paulie Tumel, they first replaced the collapsed ceramic pipe with a plastic one that adjusts with the level of the water and allows it to flow to the Little River. In 2010, silt and vegetation were cleared from the pond, an aeration system was installed five years ago to help get rid of algae, and last year, the Newcombes obtained a permit to purchase grass-eating carp. Thus, the pond is still used by family members and friends. We’re grateful we’re among them. A few years ago we introduced our grandson, then seven months, to the pond where he spent a fascinated afternoon. We’ve returned every year since with him to swim, fish, catch frogs with his grandpa. His grandma feels compelled to sit and ponder the beauty that abounds at one of our town’s most pastoral spots:
July 25: The pond is brushed with aquatic life, a harmonious relationship evinced in the ease of concentric circles, slowing, widening, gently wrinkling the glassy surface. Insects skim, frogs splash, turtles glide, fish flicker, dart, singularly large, direct, schools of small, synchronized swimmers. Other sounds: thrump, chirp, whir; and those we strive to hear – the rustle of tassels, the ripple of water, or strive to feel: the pull of the fishing pole. The dark mirror holds summer’s lushness, reflections of the water’s rim, enormous leaves, puckered and scalloped, slim cascading blades of grass, distant trees forming dark clouds in the middle of the pond. Lilies light the black surface, sparkling white goblets floating on fleshy pads. The sand is soft, the water, currents of warm and cold. There is utter serenity here, even in the sudden – the abrupt tug on the lure, the plunk of a leaping frog, a locust piercing the stillness, the cold sluicing the water, a crow’s caw scratching the air.
Dayna McDermott