James Rodriguez, long-time former resident of Hampton, passed away on October 23 in the 87^th year of his life. Born on January 13, 1935 in New York City, Jim’s family moved here in 1942.  Jim and his siblings, Thomas, Joseph and Mary, attended our one-room schoolhouses, and Jim met his future wife, Joyce Pearl, who predeceased him, at her fifth birthday party, after which she announced to her mother, “I’m going to marry Jimmy someday.” Jim and Joyce raised their family here – Juanita, John, Joyclyn, and Ann.

After graduating from high school, Jim joined the U.S. Air Force, serving during the Korean War. Inducted on July 18, 1953, Jim attended engine school, was promoted to corporal, and attained the rank of assistant crew chief with top secret clearance. Stationed in North Africa, Jim was a flight mechanic assigned to re-fueling the B-47s carrying atom bombs manufactured in the States and shipped to the Sahara Desert to be stored in underground bunkers, a furtive and treacherous responsibility.

After leaving the force, he worked at Pratt and Whitney building jet engines, which included involvement in the first Saturn booster rocket engines, and then ran Jim’s Gulf in Storrs before embarking on the business for which we all knew him so well: operating the Hampton Hill Garage from 1969 to 1997.  This enterprise would eventually become a fourth-generation business, currently owned by Jim’s son, John.  Throughout the 20^th century, the Hampton Hill Garage continued as a gathering place, where people could expect friendly service – the gas was actually pumped, the windshield washed, they could depend on skilled diagnosis and repairs to their vehicles, and they could rely on conversation. Jim loved to talk, and he was really good at it. He knew the town, its people, its politics, and was adept at debating the issues of the day. Above all, however, he always listened, earnestly and compassionately.

A skilled orator, Jim was often asked to speak at town celebrations, including Memorial Day when he delivered the Address in 1978. He also served his community on many boards and committees, including the Board of Education and the Board of Selectmen, as well as the Boards of the Abington Family Clinic, the Willimantic Savings Institute, and the Willimantic Switchboard Association. He was a longtime member of the Hampton Volunteer Fire Department, served as its Fire Chief, and was one of the first volunteers to receive his EMT certification in 1971.

Our condolences to Jim’s siblings, his children, and their families. Donations may be made in his honor to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

If you grew up in a small town or vacationed in one as a child, you know how much fun a trip to the general store was. Penny candy! Cold soda! Small, inexpensive toys, like a glider plane you assembled or a kite. Discovering treasures throughout the shelves and display cases mounted on wide wooden uneven floorboards was thrilling. Having the convenience of necessities just minutes away was so helpful to Mom.

Kara Hicks, the new owner/operator of the Hampton General Store, knows that feeling, and it’s the experience she wants to bring back. Kara has always wanted to do it since she worked at the local Hallmark Store in her teen years. Kara grew up in the small city of Ansonia, Connecticut. Back then, the Main Street of that city and the local surrounding towns and cities had small shops run and operated by locals. Chocolate shops, dry cleaners, bakeries, toy stores, beauty salons, furniture stores, music shops, hardware stores, gas stations, and repair garages were all run by people you knew. They lived in your neighborhood, or maybe grandma’s neighborhood, they went to your church, or you played with their kids on a sports team. It was nice to walk in the front door and be greeted by a smiling and welcoming face, someone you knew by name, and they knew you too.

That’s what Kara is recreating here for all to enjoy. Kara began to acquire her culinary skills at a young age by watching Mom. Mom was a chocolatier and shared her knowledge and talent with her daughter. After graduating from the University of South Carolina with a degree in Biology, Kara ended up being drawn to the food service industry. She settled down in South Carolina and, for years, worked managing restaurants for a large chain. She still had her heart set on having a small store one day. At her family’s urging, Kara moved back to Connecticut and found herself with the opportunity to make her dream come true. She searched for a location that would accommodate food preparation/sales, general merchandise, and gift sales all in one place. A general store fit the bill, and after several years she located one right here with us in Hampton. Closing on the property took over a year, and in January 2022, she became the owner of the multi-purpose structure at 258 Main Street, fondly known as Hampton General Store.

Kara and her fiancée Mike Henry began by making extensive renovations to the second-floor living quarters. Working tirelessly for days and weeks, they made their new home comfortable, and just like the old shopkeepers, they would be living above the store. Now they could concentrate on completing the storefront. The kitchen needed to be outfitted with commercial equipment, and the sales floor readied. While all this was happening, Kara acquired all the necessary health department certifications. On Monday, September 26, Kara opened the doors to customers for the first time. This was considered her soft opening, with an official open house occurring on Saturday, October 8.

The store is lovely, with something for everyone. A toy section, a pet section, clothing, and interesting home goods are displayed throughout the merchandise area towards the back. In contrast, sweet treats and delicious foods, including many baked goods, are offered upfront. Kara makes all the fresh baked goods herself. On any given day, you may find pies, cupcakes, donuts, cookies, muffins, cinnamon rolls, and a variety of bread to choose from. Coffee, several flavors of tea, and Hosmer and Coca-Cola products are also available. If you’re looking for something special for someone, look no further. She has many items to choose from that will fit any gift-giving occasion. Last but not least is the general merchandise she carries, just in case you need a bag of chips, a gallon of milk, or a box of pasta; it’s right here in Hampton General Store.

Kara plans to continue expanding her menu and offer ‘take and bake’ items beginning in January. Staples like homemade meatloaf or BBQ chicken are just some of the meals she will have available for you to purchase and bake at home. Since the store opened, Kara has met many people who remember the Hampton General Store of years ago. A former employee and many others with great childhood memories have shared past stories, and Kara loves to hear them. So please stop in, grab a cup of coffee and a snack, say hello, and get to know our new shopkeeper. Maybe you, too, have some memories to share with her.

The Store hours are Monday through Saturday, 7AM to 7PM, and Sunday, 8AM to 6PM. You can also call: 860-786-4200.

Patricia Boss

Long ago, our town was comprised of several self-sufficient villages with their own schools and stores. Eventually, the seven one-room school houses were consolidated into one, and the several stores, which sold everything from grain to “chewin’ tobacca”, eventually closed, leaving only one, the village “general store”.

Former resident and member of the Gazette editorial board, Sue Martin, researched and recorded the history of the general store for a 2013 article, relying on information gleaned from The Willimantic Chronicle, The Willimantic Journal, The Hampton Gazette, “and especially Violet Marquis”, whose memories and photographs of our town have helped to preserve its history. According to the article, the original general store opened in 1816 when Griffin Stedman sold the property to Joseph Prentis and Dan Buckley. In 1844, William Brown purchased the house and the store, an 1869 Atlas listing Brown as a dealer in “dry goods and grocer”. In 1890, Charles and Sidney Guild, whose surname is still associated with the building next to and north of the store that has served as a boarding house, a nursing home, and apartments, bought the store, which burned shortly after the purchase. “It was undoubtedly the work of an incendiary, as everything was all right at half past 10’clock, when Mr. Guild left the store,” according to a newspaper article, later reporting  that the building, the barn, and $1500 worth of stock was insured, and the store re-opened one year later, and noting, “We hope the people will give them a liberal patronage.”

The store would fall victim to fires two more times: once in 1911 when owner T. J. Roberts accidentally dropped a lighted match on the cellar floor which was saturated with oil, and “the flames spread through the structure with such rapidity that beyond a few stamps and money and mail in the post office together with a half dozen barrels of sugar and a little barbed wire, nothing was saved”; and in 1939, when the Fire Department couldn’t save the building “because the well on the property was so close to the fire as to be inaccessible”.

In 1915, Frank Phillips operated the store till Charles Burnham leased it in 1918, and in 1928, Amy Saunders purchased the property, running the store until 1947 when it was sold to John Looney. During this era, the “Universal Food Store”, as it was known then, housed the post office, and the scales to weigh items were located in the front of the store.

From “Hampton Remembers”:

My great uncle Charlie Burnham ran the store and he was very civic-minded…when he ran the store in the center of town he came to your house in the morning and took your order and delivered it in the afternoon once a week.

Ethel Jaworski

Way back I can remember the town scales were in front of the inn, and later were moved to in front of the store. Patrick Pearl used to do the weighing – hay and coal and whatever you were going to sell, to see how much to charge.

John Hammond

In 1947, John Looney purchased the General Store. Although Mr. Looney was described in an interview as “a little loony”, residents remember the store as a gathering place, where people shopped and socialized while they waited to collect their mail at the adjacent post office.

The early sixties was one of the most memorable of the store’s eras.  This is partly because of the customers, the sixty kids who lived in the center of town which was called “the magic mile”, the stock, particularly the penny candy lining the counter, and the owner, Frannie Wade, a favorite among residents, particularly the younger generation.

“Fran was ‘like another kid’, generously extending ‘credit’ and slipping candy to the children,” Louis Chatey relayed in an interview. “On one memorable occasion, Fran obtained water balloons and smoke bombs from some vendors, leading to water balloon fights on the porch of the store.”

“I remember when we had a hurricane and he let us take the ice cream because it was all melting,” Sandy Reynolds recalled.

“What a treat that was for all who came. Wasn’t a hard task to gather us once the word was out,” Kathy Thompson added.  She also recalled that Mr. Wade allowed kids to charge items on the honor system.

“We would take scraps of paper and write an IOU for how much we owed and then tacked it to a shelf edge near the register,” Susan Latimer Perez affirmed. “When we had the money, we paid, and took down the paper.”

And what items there were for purchase:  Mad Magazine, the National Lampoon, Beatles cards and baseball cards, candy cigarettes, bubble gum cigars, little wax bottles filled with something sweet, wax teeth and lips. “Unlike kids today, our generation knew how to safely run and play with big wads of wax in our mouth,” Louis wrote.

And then there were the contests. “I remember Randy having contests with anyone who wanted to challenge him to eat a half-gallon of ice cream or down a Coke faster,” Kathy recalled.

“I remember Mr. Wade having ice cream eating contests with the kids that hung out there,” Susan remembered. “Whoever ate the ice cream on a stick the quickest didn’t have to pay for it. What a marketing strategy when you have a bunch of paying kids!”

Allan Freeman relayed that he tried to bargain for a bottle of orange-aid, a more costly selection than other drinks. Mr. Wade challenged, “If you can drink the whole thing, you can have it for a dime.” Half way through, Al realized his mistake, so he went to the Post Office and sold cups of it to customers for ten cents. Though it might have earned him a “junior degree in marketing”, the stunt also resulted in a memorable stomach ache, and Allan learned “not to make deals with Mr. Wade.”

After Frannie Wade, the Wentworth’s ran the store, continuing the wonderful inventory (notably of penny candy). The next decade saw the changing of many hands. Earl Smith ran the store in 1970, followed by Carl and Pat Kraschnefski in 1974, Albert and Elizabeth Chabot in 1976, and in 1978, Martha and Edward Hourihan purchased the store and increased the stock to include bird seeds, animal feeds, and local crafts. In the early 80’s, Jeanne and Kevin Kavanagh leased the store and started a popular feature, “Person in the Store”, modeled after the interview style: “Man on the Street”. Residents participated by writing an answer to a local question of interest, and these anonymous views would be frequently published in the Hampton Gazette.

The General Store was generally open to the airing of opinions, and never was this truer than in the next memorable era: Quentin Woodward’s.  The store thrived as a gathering place, around the counter and on the porch, where elders rocked in the chairs and kids’ bicycles formed a line at the store front. Particularly on Sundays, cases of doughnuts and pastries would disappear if you weren’t there in time. But it wasn’t only the baked goods that drew the crowds, it was Quentin. People came to visit with him and solicit his opinions on political matters. Quentin knew the issues, he knew the town, and he knew, as he put it, “the math”.  There wasn’t anything he couldn’t reduce to a logical solution. As one resident said, “Quentin could talk the bark off the tree.” More importantly, “he was fiercely protective of everyone’s right to speak freely.”

Quentin also expanded the inventory exponentially to include – well, anything you could possibly need. His store was stocked with more than 4000 items from 70 vendors, and more than 20 residents were employed there. Along with everything on your weekly grocery list, there were seasonal items – seeds and fertilizer in the spring, charcoal and lighter fluid during summer, kerosene and lamps for hurricane season, canning materials for the harvest, salt and shovels for snow and ice. And holidays – Valentines and Mother’s Day cards, hot dogs and hamburgers on Memorial Day and the 4^th of July, Halloween pumpkins and decorations, Thanksgiving staples – stuffing mix and cranberry sauce, Christmas ornaments and gifts. There was a fax machine, a copy machine, and we could make keys there, and the General Store’s generator saw residents through hurricanes and blizzards. We could purchase grinders, french fries, fried chicken and onion rings, and on a Saturday night, pick up pizzas and rent movies. It was a general store in the old fashioned sense, included in an Associated Press story on their revival and resurgence across America.

At his funeral, when most of the town came to honor the legendary store owner, Jo Freeman’s metaphor was most accurate, “Quentin equaled the General Store, and the General Store equaled Hampton.”

The store was closed from 2001 to 2006, when new owners Marc and Chris Ayotte renovated it extensively. After a few years, Robert Rodriguez leased the store, and then William Oefinger, and lastly, Randy Saylor. Throughout these years, the inventory was not as extensive, yet we could depend on the same delicious food.

The store has recently re-opened under the ownership of Kara Hicks, who has brought her considerable culinary and decorating skills to our village. She and her fiancée, Mike Henry, have finished many necessary improvements, renovating the apartment above the store, where the couple lives, equipping the kitchen with commercial appliances, and giving the store front a new face lift. It’s beautiful, with fresh white paint, bright red trim, striped awnings and white lights on the porch for night time. The interior is as charming, cozy and welcoming, and having the feel of a “Country Store”, with an extensive stock, ranging from grocery items, through delicious baked goods, to gifts, with plans to expand in the future.

If you haven’t yet visited, you owe yourself that favor. Welcome the new owners and let them know how much we appreciate that the doors of the Hampton General Store have re-opened!

Selective Service

1963: President Kennedy is assassinated.

1964: The “British Invasion” begins and the tone and texture of music in America is changed forever.

1965: 3500 Marines, the first ground combat troops, are deployed to Vietnam.

1966:  Thousands of young Americans receive their draft notices. Thousands deployed to Vietnam.

1967: More than to 300, 000 now deployed to Vietnam

1968: Dr. King is assassinated, followed two months later by the assassination of Bobby Kennedy. Riots and anti-war demonstrations are setting cities ablaze all across the country. Half a million men and women are now serving in Vietnam. More than 16,000 already killed. Thousands more wounded. Dubya takes advantage of Papa’s political connections and joins the Texas Air Guard. His service is sketchy, hidden behind a veil of secrecy and privilege. Bubba first got a college deferment then, in order to avoid the draft, enrolled in but never participated in the college ROTC program. Eventually 130,000 would claim conscientious objection, some of whom served as medics, most avoided service all together. More than 30,000 would simply cross the border into Canada.

The sixties by any measure was a time of turmoil and upheaval for every American. Finding or keeping your bearings was a constant challenge. This was the world of Al Amere, a young Boston transplant living in Hampton, working at Pratt & Whitney, watching his draft date rapidly approach. Deficient in musical talent, political connections, or the art of deception, squiggling out of service was not an option. His choices were simple but far from easy: enlist or be drafted.  Possessing a clear sense of service, duty and honor, he enlisted with an eye toward flying helicopters. Vision issues interfered with that vision and he was assigned to the somewhat familiar job of servicing and repairing helicopter engines. Within a year upon completing training he was on his way to Vietnam where he would be assigned to the 123^RD Aviation Battalion of the American Division based in Chulai and joining the more than half million American service personnel then serving in country.

Welcome to 1969.  While nearly half a million hippies gathered on a farm in upstate New York and were treated to a live performance of Jimi Hendrix and his white Fender Stratocaster belting out his unique version of “The Star Spangled Banner”, more than half a million service men and women, our young soldier included, heard it for the first time on their radios buzzing with static in the jungles, swamps, firebases, field hospitals, and maintenance shops of the domino that must not fall.

Like most war veterans, Al never talks much about his experiences there. It came down to daily routine of long hot days in the maintenance hangers or on the tarmac, nightly harassing mortar fire, and the staccato of automatic weapons.  With the passage of space and time, some anecdotes can take on the flavor of humor as long as you don’t think too hard about the in-the-moment experience.

He tells of one night when the mortars started coming in. He dashed from his hooch and sprawled into a ditch (more like a depression in the ground) “fully kitted out” in GI issue skivvies and helmet with which to defend life and limb. So far as defensive positions go, it didn’t have much to recommend it. But for a billion hungry fire ants with sharp mandibles and poor social skills, it was home . . .

Working in the heat and conditions of Vietnam, a soldier can sweat gallons.  Severe enough, dehydration can be as much of a threat to life as those pesky folks and their mortars lurking outside the perimeter. This young serviceman was not about to let himself become a casualty of dehydration. After one particularly long hot day attending to the care and feeding of Cobras, he made his way to the hydration facility to complete his rehydration responsibilities. Lost fluids replaced, he headed back to his hooch to try to get some rest and prepare for another day of laboring in the hot tropical sun.  En route to his hooch he was intercepted by an officer who directed him to repair his ailing chopper. Still exhibiting signs of dehydration, with wobbly legs and cloudy head, his efforts to plead off the assignment were ignored. He was to repair the ailing machine. He cannot say which was the greater challenge – maintaining his balance on the engine deck 12 feet off the ground or actually repairing the machine.  All he can say is at some point he made it safely back onto the ground and the bird made it safely back into the air.  Unless you actually served alongside him with the 123^RD Aviation Bn. of the American Division, that’s about all you will ever hear about his time in Vietnam.

At the end of his tour he flew to Fort Lewis, Washington, mustered out of the Army, and made his way back home to Hampton and back to work at Pratt & Whitney. Home in time to miss the invasion of Cambodia but witness to the deaths of five college students at Kent State. A world gone mad.

His time in the Army and his service to the country may have been complete, but his devotion to family and service to community was only just beginning. It continues nearly 60 years to this day.

Al is quick to make the point that he never actually joined the fire department, and the Army was not the first draft he faced. He guesses he was around 16 when his uncle, the Chief at the time, said “Get in the truck–you’re going.”  He got in the truck. He went. And he has been going ever since. First serving as secretary, then the youngest member ever elected as President, and at one time or another, serving in every rank including Chief.

(In the following interviews, except for Al, all names have been either changed or omitted to protect both innocent and guilty.)

“Al, can you recall the first call you ever went on?”

I don’t really remember the first call I went on, but the first call that sticks in my mind was a call to a fire on the second floor of a house on North Brook.  My uncle said “Get in the truck” (his truck) and we raced to the scene. When we got there we found two ladies sitting at the kitchen table on the first floor eating their breakfast. They just pointed to the stairs and said, “It’s up there.” Upstairs was full of god-awful stinking smoke. Turn-your-stomach stink. My uncle found an old Army sleeping bag smoldering in the closet. I don’t know what was in that bag but the stench was awful.  He just grabbed the bag and tossed it out the window.  So while the two ladies were enjoying their breakfast down stairs I was depositing mine out the second floor window and down the side of the house. Going back down stairs we found the two ladies still at the table finishing their breakfast. They looked up, said “Thank You.” That’s all.  We left.

“Any other calls that stick in  your mind?”

Well, there are so many that they just all blend together over the years.

“There must be more that stick out.”

A long time ago, there was a car fire on Kimball Hill. Patrick and I took the tanker truck and headed to the scene. When we got there, we found a fully engulfed Triumph. The tanker we had at the time only held 300 gallons of water. We ran through that fairly quickly and the fire was still burning. There was no other water source available in the area so Patrick climbed on top of the truck and started emptying the Indian tanks into the main tank. (Indian tanks are the backpack water tanks with a hand-pump pressure nozzle used for brush fires. At the time they were made of metal.) There were just enough full Indian tanks to finish extinguishing the fire.

“What about other members that stands out in memory? Any bonehead stories?”

I probably shouldn’t talk about those.

“We won’t identify them by name or use their real names.”

A pause and a grin starts to show.

We had a guy one time who was supposed to be a professional trucker. He drove big trucks for a living so we made him a driver. Every time he got in one of our trucks he would just lose it. It’s like his mind would snap and he’d go nuts. We had a call to a brush fire. I got there before the truck and waited on the side of the road. Here he comes, flying. Lights, sirens, horn blaring. I’m standing on the side of the road pointing toward the fire and he blows right by me. Never looked, slowed down or stopped.  He moved on a long time ago but that’s one reason I always emphasize driver training.

“How about another story?”

A pause for thought.

There was a chimney fire. It was a cold, miserable, wet, snowy night.  Smith managed to make his way onto the roof by going upstairs and out onto the roof through a skylight.  Before long he’s screaming, “Call a ladder truck! Call a ladder truck! Call a ladder truck!” We didn’t know what was going on. He just kept yelling for a ladder truck. We don’t have a ladder truck so Mortlake was called in with their ladder truck.  Back in those days the ladder trucks were open. I guess they thought firefighters were supposed to all be tough–immune to wind, snow, sleet and rain. When the ladder truck got there the driver, barely able to move, damned near frozen solid, got out and says, “Well the truck is here but I don’t know how it’s gonna get home. I’m frozen and not going to drive it.”  Turns out in the course of dealing with the chimney fire, the roof had gotten so slick Smith needed the ladder truck just to get off the roof.

Interviewing Other Members

The common response when interviewing other members is: Al is there on almost every call. He’s always watching, thinking. His corrections are always quiet, simple, and direct. And: Al is always calm, never gets worked up or excited.

Every rule has its exceptions:

“You’ve been with the Company a long time. You must have some pointed memories of Al.” The member essentially repeats what others have said and then goes on:

Member 1: We were at a house fire and I’m used to calm and quiet Al. Next thing you know I hear him running around yelling “I need oxygen! Get me some oxygen! I need oxygen! I need oxygen! I need oxygen!” Al was running around with a little dog cradled in his arms. He got the oxygen and saved the dog.

You’ve been an EMT for a long time and Al was a member of the Hampton/Chaplin Ambulance since its inception, you must have some memorable stories to share.”

Member 2:  A laugh and . . . Oh Boy, do I. When Al was younger, he was a lot more feisty than he is now. When we’d go out on ambulance calls at night he’d be driving and I’d be in the back. With Al driving, it was not unlike running a class-5 rapids. I’d yell at him “If you don’t take it easy I’m gonna be sick.” From up front would come that low one or two syllable chuckle of his . . . “HaHa.”

Or: Al, if no one is sick, now I will be by the time we get to the Hospital.  “Ha.”

I just love Al.

“You basically grew up in the Fire House; any stories you’d like to share?”

Member 3: When I was a kid our families would go camping together. One time I went to the store with Al to get some groceries or supplies or something. When we were in the store a little kid started yelling, “Mommy, look! Mommy look– it’s Santa!”

That signaled the end of Hampton’s most flourishing white beard.

Sixty years of quiet service to country, community and family comes with its share of ups and downs, good times and bad, tragedy and triumph, births, deaths, countless calls, untold sacrifice, endless change and perhaps a couple beers and a shot of bourbon. Hampton owes Al Ameer a debt of gratitude that can never be fully known, expressed or repaid.  But then again, as a member of the Hampton Fire Company he does get a free dump sticker every year.

During the month of September, HFC members logged 200 man hours on 20 emergency dispatches, 80 man hours on training and equipment service, and attended two admin meetings.

Stay safe, watch for traffic, and don’t drive distracted.

Firehouse Dog

Because we’re a newspaper, we always poll participants at the Fall Festival, with local, state and national questions. This year, in keeping with one of the themes of this issue, one of the themes of this year, we decided to focus on the effects of Covid.

What was the hardest part of the pandemic for you?

Losing people, friends and relatives, was the most frequent response. “Limitations” was second: limited social occasions, missing friends, isolation and loneliness. Having Covid was next, and “constant anxiety” over the health of our elders “until the vaccine”.  One participant wrote “finding shot appointments”, another that “It lasted too long!” and one astute person called “mistrust” the hardest part of the pandemic.

What did you miss most?

The number one answer: smiles. Second: people. Several residents missed “going out”, specifically to restaurants, movies, and plays, a few people missed “feeling safe”, and one person missed “singing” the most.

What did you learn to appreciate more?

There were specific things listed: mystery novels and DVDs, crossword and jigsaw puzzles, my phone, my garden, nature, the town we live in, home life, and “the quiet moments”.  Activities were also listed – cooking, exploring, walking in the woods, getting things done, and being less busy. One person appreciated more “free time”, while another, the opportunity to “change my routine”.  While several people wrote that they appreciated their friends more, people in general, and their smiles, “freedom” was the response recorded most.

On a scale of 1 – 10, how much did your life change during the pandemic?

With a score of 10 as the most drastic change, and 1 the slightest, several participants, especially younger ones, selected 8 – 10 for the change in their lives. Only a couple of people selected 1 and 2, with most residents choosing 3 – 5. Country living, as mentioned many times in the other questions, might account for less impact.

What was the longest time you were stuck in the house?

Answers ranged from a couple of days, through two weeks of quarantine, to “winter”, though most people’s response was “never”, as so many residents took advantage of our environs and walked. As one resident wrote, “I wasn’t stuck in the house; I opened the door and walked outside!”

What new shows did you discover? And how long did you binge?

Shows listed included: The Crown, Virgin River, Stranger Things, The Repair Shop, Reservation Dogs, The Middle, Only Murders in the Building, the Queen’s Gambit, Emily in Paris, and “too many to list”.  One person played “Dungeons and Dragons” with friends on ZOOM, several people spent more time reading instead, and one person wrote: “Not sure, but it was as lousy as ever.” Bingeing?  “No bingeing…one hour…here and there bingeing…still bingeing.”

Are you still married?

Along with the twelve “yesses”:

of course

it’s like gum on your shoe

happily, too

in my heart always

hell no!

never again!

maybe?

I’m grateful for…

Friends and family.

A less divided nation.

The kindness of strangers.

Jesus.

Small towns,

My neighbors,

Hampton Elementary School and Parish Hill.

Nature,

Flowers and wildlife,

The town we live in.

Rain.

I wanted to share this list of helpful resources for seniors. If you have any questions or want more information, please don’t hesitate to call me at 860-208-2430 (leave a message). You can also find me at the Town Hall on the first Thursday of every month from 5-7PM.

Senior Resources                 860-887-3561                      www.seniorresourcesec.org

Knowledgeable staff answers questions about Medicare, State of CT programs for seniors and more.

The Center for Healthy Aging                           860-456-6785

A free service for area seniors located at Windham Hospital.

CT Homecare Program for Elders                    1-800-445-5394

Providing qualifying seniors with home aide services.

Alzheimer’s Association                    alz.org

A helpful resource for those caring for someone with Alzheimer’s disease.

Adult Protective Services                   860-465-3550

If you suspect a senior is being abused physically, sexually, emotionally, or financially, please call this number.

Northeast CT Transit Dial-a-Ride                    860-774-3902

Serving: Brooklyn, Canterbury, Eastford, Hampton, Killingly, Plainfield, Pomfret, Putnam, Sterling, Thompson, Woodstock.

Lifeline                  1-800-566-6218

Emergency call system, especially helpful for those living alone.

Jane Cornell

Thomas A. Gaines passed away at his home here in Hampton on September 13 at the age of 99. Born in New York City, he and Carolyn (Kay) Levin Gaines, who also passed away at the age of 99 last February, were married for 75 years and raised three children, Gary, Elizabeth, and Andrea – our condolences to them and to their families.

Tom was commissioned as a Lt. (Jg) in the U. S. Navy during World War II and was stationed at Pearl Harbor. He earned a BA from the University of Wisconsin, an MBA from Harvard, and studied architecture at Columbia.  In 1951-52, Tom built Central America’s first housing development in Costa Rica, where he and Kay often hosted President Jose “Pepe” Figueres. His experiences in Costa Rica helped to inspire the first of his three books, “Profits with Progress, Latin America’s Bright Investment Future”. His other books are “The Campus as a Work of Art” and “15 Pinnacles, History’s Glorious Golden Ages”. Tom also designed and built houses in the “House of Gaines” development in Stamford, immortalizing his children with “Gary Road”, “Lolly Lane”, and “Andrea Lake”. The first builder in the NYC area to advertise “Equal Housing Opportunity”, he also designed and built houses in Greenwich.

Upon retirement Tom and Kay renovated the old farmhouse where they lived for almost 50 years. Tom served on many town boards, was a Justice of the Peace, and contributed to the Gazette and other newspapers. He founded the Connecticut chapter of the Nature Conservancy and was active throughout his life in the NAACP, the ADA, the ACLU, and other progressive and environmental causes. In response to his many “Brushes with the Famous” his children presented him with a book chronicling those encounters, which included Frank Lloyd Wright, Jackie Robinson, Max Baer, Benny Goodman, L. L. Bean, Maurice Sendak, Fernand Leger, Norman Thomas, Rodger Baldwin, Christopher Robin Milne, and Edwin Way Teale among many others. An accomplished pianist, composer, sailor and pilot, Tom inspired us all. Energetic to the end, we sought his opinion, his global view, his wisdom, his sense of humor, his quick smile. Tom will be missed.

When I think of the word “franchise”, McDonald’s comes to mind. Except on Election Day, when I get a chance to exercise my own franchise in the only poll that counts. Since the mechanics of Election Day are much the same throughout our land, there is a universality about it. At the same time, nobody experiences the process in exactly the same way.

Nobody (except me) lives at the dead-end of Edwards Road in our small backwater village of Hampton; no one else travels the half mile to Estabrook Road and turns right to the bottom of the hill where Station Road joins. No one else joins Hampton’s main artery, Route 97, at 7a.m. this Election Day to travel through our lineal village of 19^th century homes to the small boxlike Town Hall.

And I am reasonably sure that no one else muses exactly as I muse on this day of decisions. In the five-minute journey from my rural place to the bustling Town Hall, I have time to recall the biggest voting mistake of my life. Protesting against the Democratic Party for not producing a candidate who could win, I cast my 1984 ballot for socialist Norma. M. Thomas, thus denying Harry S. Truman my support.

I pledged then never to make that error again. Yet here I was agonizing whether to help prevent a John G. Rowland victory by going for the front runner, Lowell P. Weiker Jr., or vote my beliefs and support Bruce A Morrison.

I enter the Town Hall and look for Becky Dean, the explainer of the voting machine. For years Becky has been trying to get me to listen to her little talk. I always divert her by asking about her family. But Becky is away and so Laurie Berard has taken her place. I tell Laurie I know the drill and proceed to give my street and name to Arlene Brunell and Eunice Gluck, the official checkers.

I greet Jim Fox, the moderator, Claire Winters and Eunice Fuller, the registrars, and Peggy Fox, the town clerk. Though we are only a one-booth town, there is almost never a waiting line and I enter the booth’s sanctity without feeling hurried. Most of us want to keep it this way. In this very booth, I voted for a planning board member who promised to maintain Hampton’s rural character by population control; he would have removed all road signs pointing to Hampton

Among other choices, I take Courant columnist Don Noel’s advice and pull down the slot over the sheriff nominations. I write in “reform” and put away the pencil I had brought for the purpose. (I remember the days before we had voting machines when a pencil was the means of casting ballots and you had to use the one provided). A voting machine is a complicated mechanism; it took Maurice Bisson two hours the night before to prepare it. Maurice keeps the tradition of Bill Hoffman, the voting machine preparer before him, and refuses payment.

Artfulness in politics is not for me. The three-way race for governor tempts one to make compromises. In the end, I stick to my pledge and vote for Morrison.

On the way out, I am struck by the sartorial diversity of the voters. There are the suited types headed for bank jobs, the windbreaker set for construction sites, joggers in shorts, and Lois Kelley in her granny dress. She is going to her job as a storyteller at Sturbridge Village. I remind her that we still have her butter dish from the last meeting of Earthcare, our local conservation organization.

Well, it is over for another year. They say that only 40 percent of registered voters nationally go to the polls. This means that almost no candidate wins with a majority of eligible voters any more, and that bodes ill for our system of government. But Hampton, our little hill town in northeastern Connecticut, is doing its part with a high voter turnout – nearly 70 percent – and that, it seems to me, is not bad for the turnip-truck crowd.

Thomas A. Gaines, 1990

The polls will be open on November 8, from 6AM to 8PM, in the Community Room at Town Hall for the State Election. Absentee ballots are available in the Office of the Town Clerk during regular business hours, Tuesdays from 9AM to 8PM and Thursdays from 10AM to 7PM. Completed applications and ballots may be mailed, or delivered, to the Town Clerk, or placed in the secured deposit box at the top of the ramp at Town Hall.

The Registrars of Voters will hold a limited registration session on November 7 from 9AM to 5PM in their Office at Town Hall for those whose qualifications as to age, citizenship, or residence matured after the November 1 deadline. Election Day Registration will also be available in the Registrars’ Office on November 8 prior to the close of the polls.

Dayna McDermott-Arriola and Sulema Pagan-Perez