Stonehurst at Hampton Valley, the beautiful event venue and premier setting for nuptials, was the recent recipient of two prestigious awards: the 2021 Best of Hartford Winner for ‘Wedding Venues’, and a 2022 Couples’ Choice Award for ‘Best of Weddings’. Located on 90 acres along our Little River, Stonehurst offers two venues, a mansion and a barn, and in its every aspect respects the pastoral nature of our town.  “What started as a dream,” a written response to the awards stated, “turned into a small goal of maybe one wedding a weekend. In 2021 we hosted over 160 gorgeous weddings after just three years of opening our doors.”

Wow! Congratulations, to Stonehurst, its staff, and, of course, to all of the newlyweds.

The State Elections Enforcement Commission recently voted to investigate possible campaign financing and election violations involving Town officials in relation to the November 2, 2021 Municipal Election. The Registrars of Voters referred citizen complaints they received to the commission after consultation with a staff attorney at the SEEC.

The complaints allege that First Selectman Allan Cahill violated CGS 9-160, a campaign finance law which prohibits the “use of public funds by incumbent or for promotional campaign or advertisement” when he encouraged residents to “vote for me to continue our town’s progress” on the Town website on the day of, and the days preceding, the Election.

Other complaints involve Town Clerk Shannon Pearl Haddad regarding errors on the ballots, which the Town Clerk is responsible for producing. These involved the inclusion of a position on the Planning and Zoning Commission which did not exist, and on the Board of Education, the omission of one candidate’s endorsement and the inclusion of another candidate who had withdrawn his name. Though the errors were eventually corrected, the complaint alleges that Ms. Haddad failed to re-issue absentee ballots to voters who received those that contained mistakes, a statutory requirement.  The complaints also allege that Ms. Haddad failed to endorse an absentee ballot, which consequently was rejected, and issued an absentee ballot to William Pearl, who owns property in Hampton, yet is not an elector in town.  His attempt to vote in two municipalities forms the basis of a third investigation.

There was also an allegation that Ms. Haddad was present in the polling place several times during the Election. Though Registrars of Voters and Town Clerks can perform their official duties when seeking re-election to those posts, they are prohibited from entering the polling place for any reason other than to vote if they are a candidate for any other office. Ms. Haddad was seeking a seat on the Board of Education.

Gazette Staff

“We don’t meet people by accident. They are meant to cross our path for a reason.” ~Unknown

This month Andrea and I are going to share our story of how we met.  The circumstances of our meeting support the thesis of our past two columns on social isolation and volunteerism.  At that time, in 2019, I lived in Chaplin.  I played Mah Jongg twice a week at the Senior Center and took yoga in the adjacent library. One Tuesday morning a refreshing wind blew, ushering in Andrea.  She joined our table. Thereafter, we became fast friends.  We are close in age, share many interests, and have similar backgrounds.  And, who knew, that my husband and I would move to our great home here in Hampton in that same year, the summer of 2019. As a result, Andrea has introduced me to many Senior related events and other Hampton community resources.  We also met two other fine women from Hampton that blew in with the breeze to the Chaplin Senior Center to join our Mah Jongg group.

I hope this personal story will encourage others who may be feeling the need to develop a new chapter in their lives to let the breeze usher you into a new era in your lives. While there’s no magic wand to fix loneliness, there are things you can do to make new friends, and to rekindle or sustain the friendships you already have. For all the strategies, you still have to take initiative—and be vulnerable.

Moving on to fun activities, Pickle Ball is all the rage now. It’s offered twice a week at the Chaplin Senior Center, Monday and Wednesday mornings. Andrea and I learned there, and still play there. It’s offered indoors in the winter months, which is great! You don’t have to be a Senior to play.  Call the Chaplin Senior Center for details.

Chaplin offers delicious hot meals twice a week for only $5 each.   They are so much better than Meals on Wheels. And some of you may know the wonderful “chef”, Bob Grindle. Unfortunately, no eating is allowed indoors yet.  Your meals will be handed to you through your car windows by happy volunteers. Call Lisa Kegler at the Chaplin Senior Center for details at 860-455-1327.

Mah Jongg lessons/playing are starting up again in Hampton on Thursday mornings from 10 to noon in the Fletcher Memorial Library community room. American Mah Jongg is a fascinating rummy-like game you play with tiles rather than cards. We guarantee some laughs and making new friends. Peggy McKleroy has been teaching Mah Jongg in Eastern CT for over 10 years. All skill levels are welcome. Call the library at 860-455-1086 for any questions.

Until April, Andrea and Peggy, Cochairs of the Vision Committee for the Hampton Seniors Club

Are you interested in learning more about the habitats, plants, animals and natural history of Connecticut? Are you a landowner, citizen, teacher, park naturalist, land trust employee, conservation planning board member, or natural resource professional looking to increase your knowledge of the natural environment? If so, join us for our 2022 Master Naturalist Trainings at Goodwin Conservation Center. Through this program, participants will learn about the ecosystems of Connecticut, the animals and plants that inhabit our area, and current conservation issues affecting our wildlife and natural resources. The program includes a mix of indoor classroom presentations and outdoor hands-on field sessions where participants learn to identify, interpret, and understand key ecological natural resources through education and service.

Participants completing this Level I course will become “Apprentice Naturalists”. Training takes place on six Saturdays between April and June. A completed application must be received by Saturday, March 18th, 2022. Individuals interested in becoming a “Master Naturalist” may go on to complete the Level II course in Fall 2022.

For more information and access to the application please visit www.friendsofgoodwinforest.org

Willy was in his office working on a new patio design on January 10^th when his pager sounded at 3:25pm.  The message: Covid positive in house / 2 mo infant /Breathing / Unconscious/ Fainting. Willie dropped what he was doing and was at the scene within minutes. A cold finger on her neck moments before had elicited unhappy but vigorous crying from baby “Jane.” Under the circumstances her crying was a welcome sign of adequate breathing. Nevertheless, her head soon drooped, and she was out again. Willy checked and found a good pulse. Did some cooing and rubbing of baby Jane’s torso.  She stirred, cried some more, and was out again. This was Mom’s first child and although calm, clearly concerned as this was new and unusual behavior for baby Jane. She had eaten around noon as usual but had been lethargic, frequently passing out since. Mom reported both Mom and Dad had tested positive for Covid in recent weeks – hospitalization had not been required. Baby Jane had been her normal self until today.

By now the living room was getting crowded. KB ambulance with two EMTs had arrived. Paramedic from Windham was on scene. Grandma and Grandpa were hovering. Dad had arrived from work. Essentially oblivious to the commotion Baby Jane was now preoccupied, draining the contents of her bottle.  Questions, suggestions and opinions buzzed around the room.  What were the benefits vs. risk of transporting baby Jane to the hospital where there may be risk of exposure to other issues?  Ultimately Baby Jane was transported via ambulance to Windham, accompanied by Mom, the EMTs and the Paramedic. Dad, Grandma and Grandpa followed behind. Willie took the Medic vehicle to the Firehouse, where it would later be retrieved by the medic. He and the other three responding members returned to the tasks they had been engaged in prior to their pagers sounding.  An hour and 15 minutes had passed.

At the hospital Baby Jane was diagnosed with Covid, fever and low blood sugar. She was subsequently transported to Children’s Hospital where she remained overnight responding well to treatment, while Mom and Dad stood vigil. As of this writing she is home in Mom’s arms, doing well, draining another bottle of formula, enjoying her family’s love and attention.

Willy Leinbach moved, with his family, to Hampton from Pennsylvania about three years ago, where he had also been a volunteer Firefighter and Emergency Medical Responder.  Not long after arriving in Hampton he joined the Hampton Fire Company (HFC) and has been an active member ever since, often one of the first on scene when the pagers sound.  Hampton is lucky to have such community-minded people as Willie, ready to step forward and serve.  Be like Willy.

During the month of January HFC members responded to twelve emergency dispatches, attended two training session, two business meetings, logging 115-man hours.

Fire House Dog

While all of the subjects featured in “Our Rural Heritage” have generated interest among our readers, the Gazette received more than the usual amount of accolades last month for the article on the Fire Company, with much gratitude expressed for our recognition of its members, and its very existence.  So we decided to extend the topic to take a look at the precariousness of our town’s structures prior to its establishment.

Fires were a more frequent occurrence in the 18^th and 19^th centuries, and barns were particularly vulnerable. The use of kerosene lamps and a lot of hay provided a recipe for disaster. As with the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, which legend tells us was the fault of Mrs. O’Leary’s infamous cow, fires often began in the barn, and buildings in the vicinity were in peril, especially when the family’s living quarters and the barn were connected.

“Big house, little house, back house, barn” was a rhyme children of the 19^th century chanted which described the farm houses where many of them lived.  “Connected farmsteads”, characterized by buildings attached to one another in a continuous structure, were common in New England. The “big house” was where the family lived, the “little house” served as the kitchen, the “back house” was traditionally a carriage house, or stored farm implements and wagons, and then the barn, of course, was for the livestock. The buildings were not necessarily limited; New Englanders connected barns, carriage houses, chicken coops, woodsheds and sugar houses in an effort to increase the efficiency of their farms. This design facilitated movement through the different areas, particularly during the cold winters.  The New England farmstead was also unique in that the architectural style of the home was repeated in the other structures. Historian and architect Thomas Hubka wrote in his 1984 book, Big House, Little House, Back House, Barn, “Those who built connected farms changed their farms by extending the architectural style and order of the house to their barns. This was a truly radical development by New England farmers, and it is this characteristic, more than that of house and barn connection itself, that is one of the unique aspects of New England connected farm architecture.”

There are several examples of older properties in Hampton where the outbuildings, including the barns, respect the architecture of the home; and although there’s only one house remaining in town with a complete “big house, little house, back house, barn” configuration, many of our older residences have additional buildings attached to the principle dwelling. Considering the amount of farms which were once in town, barns which might have been previously connected could have fallen away with disuse. Susan Jewett Griggs’ “Folklore and Firesides” contains some photographs of Hampton homes which appear to have barns connected to the other structures. “Hampton Remembers” also shows farmhouses which seem to have this architectural style, and recounts one notable example which succumbed to fire:

I remember when Lucy Lewis’ house burnt – she was Lucy Hopkins then. I was getting ready to go out to do the chores one morning and my sisters came running down the stairs with “Hopkins house is afire!” They could see it from their bedroom window. So I ran out to the barn and told the menfolks and then we went down and met Lucy on the way up. She had her father’s overcoat on and his felts. He kept on the rubbers. The house went, and the horse barn that was attached to it. And they never rebuilt.

Harold Stone from “Hampton Remembers”

The evidence of places lost to fires lies mostly in footprints: a copse of tall pines on Kenyon Road circling the site where lightning struck a house, the chimney still remaining on Hemlock Glen, so many cellar holes. There are few records of early fires, perhaps because it was so frequent an event. Some fires, however, were in the news.

November 8, 1860: The old cotton factory at “Howard’s Valley” in Hampton, which has recently been used as a saw and grist mill, was fired by an incendiary on Monday night, and was entirely destroyed. The present occupant had recently expended some $1500 in improvements, upon which he has no insurance. Previous attempts have been made to fire the building, and a watch has been kept on the premises, but while the occupants were at tea the incendiary accomplished his purpose.

January 24, 1890: On Tuesday night about 12 o’clock David Greenslit discovered fire proceeding from the front of the store and post

office kept by Charles E. Guild. He gave the first alarm, and soon the cries of fire and ringing of bells aroused this usually quiet little village and many hastened to the spot. But nothing could be done to save the store or its contents. A barn, standing close by and belonging to the estate of the late Miss Coleman, was also burned, but might have been saved, but for the carelessness of one man in rescuing a horse rake which he had stored therein. The barn was filled with hay. Special mention should be made of the men who worked so faithfully to preserve the property of G. R. Burroughs on the south side of the store and the house occupied by Miss Edgerton on the north side. If the wind had been raging at the time of the fire, as it did an hour later, without doubt the entire east side of the street would have been consumed. It was undoubtedly the work of an incendiary, as everything was all right at half past 10’clock, when Mr. Guild left the store. He has been in business here for more than a year, and is assisted by his brother Sidney. Both are fine enterprising young men and have the sympathy of the community. There is an insurance on both buildings, and also one of $1500 on the stock of goods.

One year later, on February 20, 1891: “The Guild brothers are now occupying their new store, and have it well filled with a choice stock of goods. We hope the people will give them a liberal patronage.”

April 16, 1909: Friday morning about 4 o’clock the railroad bridge just below the crossing caught fire and part of it burned. The entire bridge would have burned had it not been for the station agent, who worked faithfully. Agent Jewett sent for section foreman and men, but when they arrived he had the fire under control. Orders were issued for all trains to slow down to 5 miles an hour.

January 20, 1911: The store of T. J. Roberts, which contained the post office, was burned about 3 o’clock Tuesday afternoon. The cause of the fire was Mr. Roberts accidentally dropping a lighted match on the cellar floor. The floor 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. It is estimated that the loss will be between $6000 and $8000. This is partly covered by insurance…The blaze was seen for miles around. A high wind was blowing and for a time it looked as if the entire street must go. The house and barn of A. E. Guild at the north of the store caught several times and the house of J. C. Church on the south was threatened. The row of evergreen trees standing between this house and the store prevented it from catching but the trees are practically ruined. …when the fire was first discovered the church bell was tolled and within fifteen minutes practically every able-bodied man in the village was on hand. Ladders were quickly run up on the Guild House and barn, and the efforts of the men were devoted to saving these structures. One of the ladders on the barn snapped under the weight of the men upon it and Arthur E. Pearl fell to the ground beneath it, breaking his right ankle.

The general store appears to have been particularly vulnerable to fires, and last fell victim to flames in 1939 when the Fire Department was unable to save the building “because the well on the property was so close to the fire as to be inaccessible”. Other publicized fires included the Clark’s Corners mansion of surveyor, builder and abolitionist Jonathan Clarke, and the village law office of Governor Cleveland, and the fate of the school house on Bigelow was chronicled in “School House Crumbles… but Memories Linger.” The Congregational Church was also struck by lightning in 1942. “Damage was confined to the steeple and upper gallery,” the newspaper reported. “The Fire Department, under the direction of Chief Robert J. J. McDermott, checked the steeple fire in the belfry. The electrical unit of the building was destroyed.”

All fires now are front page news, but homes, and livelihoods, utterly destroyed were once such common place occurrences, they weren’t mentioned in newspapers. They left, however, indelible marks on those who remember them. Here’s an account in “Hampton Remembers” from Evelyn Estabrooks, who recalled one she witnessed when she was seven-years-old:

One day there was a terrific thundershower and my father and brothers had just got a load of hay into the barn and there came this awful clap. The Winfield’s hired girl, as they were called, came rushing over for help and told us the house was burning – of course there were no telephones then. And then she went back to get the children. And I remember the little boy, Jimmy, sitting in my mother’s lap and sobbing his heart out that ‘Mummy’ll be burned!’ And then they brought her over and she had a heart attack in our house – so I well remember that day! I was terrified of thundershowers for a long time after that. …they fought the Winfield’s fire with the bucket brigade but they couldn’t save the house.

In a chapter titled “Days We’ll Never Forget”, memorable moments are detailed — joyous celebrations, and as with all of us, some gravely tragic:

Mrs. Mary Brayman who lived on the Main Street was 104 when she died – and she didn’t die of old age. She caught fire. Her niece was living with her then. Mrs. Brayman always made her own fire in the stove and she always put a little drop of kerosene on and it lit off beautifully. But this day her niece came down and made the fire the way Mrs. Brayman did but it didn’t go the way it should. There were still flames in the bottom unseen by Mrs. Brayman and when she put more kerosene on, it went ‘Poof!’ – her clothes caught fire and she burned.

Ethel Edwards, from “Hampton Remembers”

There are few tragedies as traumatic as fires, and though they might not have been recorded in newspapers, we recall them — with all of our senses –vividly, and we remember — with our whole hearts — the way our neighbors, and the Fire Department, were there.

“Behold, my friends, the spring is come; the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun, and we shall soon see the results of their love.” Sitting Bull

Spring officially commences with the Equinox; culturally, the beginning is Easter, its symbols of rebirth all wrapped up in pastels. But for the gardener, spring starts with the earliest signs of the season. Ever since we were children we’ve searched for glimpses – ruffles of columbine, spears of narcissus, curlicues of tulips — all piercing through the frozen earth to provide us with the promise of spring. I know I’m not alone in continuing this ritual; gardeners share their discoveries, announcing the treasures they’ve braved the cold, and unlikelihood, to find, rendering us in the ensuing weeks “slaves to a springtime passion for the earth”.

The early emergence of new growth in the garden corresponds with transformative measures in our environs. White becomes the recessive color, receding into the woods, a faint haze rising in the Little River valley as stirring roots flush the snarl of brambles with singular threads of red and green and gold. Pails suspend from maple trees, their spigots rhythmically dripping sap. Brooks break free of frozen claws, the water splashing against glistening rocks, and the ice slowly loses its grip on ponds to reveal the black surfaces rippling beneath the season’s stiff breezes. Wherever we walk we hear the thaw, the surest sign of spring — the scent of earth and moisture permeating the air. And though the cold clings to the forest, in “those March days…when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade,” its streams and vernal pools and swamps are rimmed with one of New England’s gems – the mottled cowls which unfurl to the leathery scrolls of skunk cabbage.  The natural world brings us so many arrivals. We rejoice in the return of the robins, the discovery of a nest with a bright blue egg in the crook of a tree. The flash of the red-wing blackbirds in the marshes, alighting on their cat-tail sentries, the courtship of the woodcocks, performing their spiral dances, and the turkeys, strutting their regalia in a minuet waltz. We listen for the melodic trill of the warbler, the hum of the honeybees collecting the pollen sprouting from the plump spines of the pussy willow’s silvery catkins, and evenings for the chorus of peep frogs.

In our gardens, the first brush strokes of spring are bright and bold. Forsythia is everywhere in New England. Since it’s an unimpressive plant 48 weeks of the year, we must attribute its early color to its popularity as it punctuates lawns and forms golden walls in the landscape.  Forsythia is followed with that “host of golden daffodils”. We know where those cheerful stretches are in our neighborhoods, and in our own yards, we hurry to uncover them in the slim moments of time between a swift spike in the temperature and a threatening freeze. What a thrill – to find the yellow straps beneath the leaves we rake away, twice when they quickly green beneath the warming sun, and thrice when their petals open and their trumpets announce that it’s spring.

“The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size,” and as with spring’s first appearance from the frosty soil, my attention returns to the little jewels, the frailer flowers which reflect the frailty of the season: the sunny tete-a-tetes, clusters of tiny lanterns crisscrossing a stepping stone path, the deep purple petals of the miniature irises painting gray rocks, the scattering of the pastel crocus circling my mother’s sycamore tree, and the golden throated variety at the entrance to our own home, the first to welcome pollinating visitors, clumps of snowdrops in the shadows of evergreens, squill creating swaths of sapphire in the grass, the carnival glass saucers of hellabores, the fairy caps of leucojum, the pendulant trout lilies and trilliums and the aptly named ‘checkered lilies’, so demure as to require a sharp-eyed search.

Later in spring our lawns fill with seasonal bliss as the branches of shrubs and trees swell with bloom. No place celebrates these weeks as gloriously as New England, where “the earth laughs in flowers”. It is our most joyous season.  Magenta blossoms smothering the umbrella of the red bud, magnolia’s globes opening, splaying pink petals, the salmon and ivory bracts floating along dogwood’s horizontal layers, the peach tree’s pale petals deepening, their centers echoing the wine color of its leaves, pink parasols of weeping cherries, bright arbors of crab apples, billowy white pears, the gentle blush of the apple orchards, viburnum’s perfumed veils, the succession of sparkling azaleas, cascading bouquets of bridal wreath spirea, dripping racemes of  lilacs. These “last in the dooryard bloom’d” are among the most fragrant of spring’s flowers; on older properties lilacs are often paired where they once flanked the privy. I look forward to the scent of several old-fashioned favorites:  the bracing spurs of witch hazel, viburnum  and daphne, the delicacy of their blossoms belying the intensity of their perfume, the nectarous honeysuckle threading the woodland, citrus scented ‘mock orange’, sweet Williams’ spicy clove, the heavenly vanilla of valerian, the intoxicating sweetness of  hyacinth , and a favorite, lily-of-the-valley, their miniature bells emitting the essence of spring. With scent so closely associated with memory, these flowers evoke a sense of nostalgia, and naturally, romance, which is also attributed to this season, when “always it’s spring, and everyone’s in love, and flowers pick themselves”. From the messages children convey with daisies and pansies to the passionate expression of bleeding hearts, the spring garden is lush with sensuous tulips and irises, delicate coral bells and columbine, ethereal  lady’s mantle and catmint,  and spires of baptisia and lupine and foxgloves — romantics all.

On a homelier level, yet no less exhilarating, the season’s firsts – the first sheets on the clothesline, the first barefoot across the grass, the first picnic, and its subtleties:  the flecks of copper and rust and sage stitching the woods, the confetti of apple blossoms falling like snowflakes in the orchard, the bluets freckling the lawn, the plumpening rhubarb, the stirring of everything – the “spring fever. That is what the name of it is. And when you’ve got it, you want—oh, you don’t quite know what it is you do want, but it just fairly makes your heart ache, you want it so!”

Of course, we face the season’s fickleness with far less enthusiasm. Temperamental, volatile, unpredictable, spring “is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine”. Yet this element, too, is emblematic, for spring, above all else, is the season of appreciation.

Compliments to Robert Frost, Charles Dickens, William Wordsworth, Gertrude Wister, Ralph Waldo Emerson,  Walt Whitman, Mark Twain, e. e. cummings, and Frances Hodgson Burnett,  respectively; we invite our local poets to pen their own words on spring and submit them to us for publication!

Dayna McDermott

Dear Auntie Mac,

I love the “Swap Shack” at the Transfer Station and visit it every Saturday.  Recently what was “swapping” in there though was gossip – a lot of it – highly personal with specific people in Hampton named. I’m a firm believer that “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure”, but there’s no room for this particular garbage in there. Please help me spread this word.

Against Swapping Gossip

My Dear Neighbor:

Your story reminds me of an incident a few years ago. Lars rushed into the house pale as a ghost, his Swarovski FieldPro binoculars (a Christmas present from me, in part as thanks for dealing with an unpleasant rodent experience) clutched in trembling hands. “I was trying to catch a glimpse of a vesper sparrow in the woods when I saw a young couple across a field kissing.” I think I must have raised an encouraging eyebrow, for he continued, “and then, all their clothes came off!”

“But how could you be so sure?” I asked.

“Well,” he said, gesturing at me with the binoculars, “I saw it all myself, didn’t I?”

Auntie Mac is the first to confess that she is hard pressed to vacate the swap shack when some discarded bauble catches her eye and is blocked by five or six equally determined treasure hunters. However, she gently suggests that you may have spent a few moments too many in pursuit of your trinket in order to overhear enough to provide you with both context and outrage. Like Lars, you did not flee at the first salvo–we all, at some point, bend to the salacious, regardless of best intentions and noble thoughts.

There are certainly times when overhearing something necessitates a call to action. If one of the visitors had said, “Let’s plan to burn down Mary’s house tonight at 11:30; I’ll bring the gasoline,” you would have a duty to notify first the transfer station personnel and then the authorities. However, if you heard “Mary is a sniveling weasel and watches too much reality TV,” your best course of action would be to forego that glass vase in the corner and step out of the building until the coast, as they say, was clear.  It is probably too much to hope that a stern, albeit well-meaning lecture from you will keep these people—or anyone—from curbing the temptation to besmirch the reputation of someone not within earshot.

Gossip does not begin, nor does it end, at the door to the swap shack. Auntie Mac believes that when wrongs are witnessed, it is always appropriate to address them, but that involves a degree of courage that few of us possess. As long as this is the scene in which you have set your morality play, however, you might employ an effective dispersal method that goes like this: (loudly) “Excuse me, I really must get through. There is a darling plastic donkey on the bench over there that I absolutely have to have. Do you mind terribly? Thanks ever so much. Lovely weather today. Don’t you just adore shopping here? Oh my, what is that right behind you—could you move over just a scoche? These books are collectors’ items!  Listen to this…” and begin reading from Paradise Lost.

Yes, we should not gossip about each other. No, it isn’t helpful to say unkind things about people, especially in public places where meanings can be misconstrued.  But the transfer station is no more a magnet for boorish behavior than one’s own living room, and sadly, a public edict requesting kindness and consideration—even at locations as venerable as the transfer station—will hold little sway with those whose contentment depends on disparaging others. Your own good example is a welcome first step towards civility.

Your Auntie Mac

A siren sounds in the middle of the night. Emergency vehicles speed through the darkness with flashing lights and blaring alarms. From the warmth of our homes, nestled under blankets, we glimpse the streak and follow the noise to its silence. We imagine a fire on a cold night like this, an accident, a family displaced, or injured. And we imagine those who have risen from the warmth of their homes to rapidly answer the call. On any given night, this sacrifice is unimaginable for many of us. And unimaginable that there are some among us who have responded in this way for their entire lives.

One of those volunteers is Noel Waite. “I have had the pleasure of working with Noel for 35 years. He’s one of the most dedicated men I know,” Chief Rich Schenk affirms.  “Noel spends countless hours doing things most of us at the firehouse really don’t want to do. It is a running joke that he’s in it only for the glory!”

A life-long citizen of Hampton, Noel has been active in the town since he was a teenager, joining the ambulance corps and the fire department as soon as he became eligible, and even before. “Noel was involved with the fire department and the ambulance corps from an early age,” says Nancy Musial. “He used to ride around with Dave and Al before he was old enough to join!”

“I have known Noel all of his life. He joined the Fire Company at age 16 and before that as a ‘fire house brat’ with his mom and dad. We have been friends forever. There is no one else I would like to have at my side through thick and thin. I consider him my brother,” says Al Ameer, who is not alone in sharing these sentiments.

“The first thing that comes to mind about Noel is Dedication and Dependable,” says Dave and Dale Demontigny. “Noel has been involved in both the Hampton-Chaplin Ambulance Corps and the Hampton Fire Company from practically infancy due to attending calls and events with his parents who were staples in the departments. He has carried out this dedication to the townspeople since, becoming a Medical Response Technician and all officer positions up to Chief of the fire department.”

Noel comes from a formidable lineage of emergency volunteers. His grandfather, Jesse Burnham, was a charter member of the Fire Department. Noel’s parents, Helen and Bert, along with Eva Loew, initiated the Ambulance Corps, which began with a meeting in the Waite’s living room in 1955, a gathering of concerned citizens. Helen was the Corps’ first president and the first ambulance, a converted Bond Bread truck, was parked in the Waite’s driveway, the first alarm, a “red” telephone in their house, with Helen and Bert, literally, the first responders. Helen, who was one of the town’s first emergency technicians, also served with the Civil Air Patrol at Windham Airport and worked with the tri-town Public Health Nursing Agency. A veteran of World War II, Bert was a bus driver who demonstrated his courage in 1962 when he drove a group of integrationists from Hartford to Georgia where he met the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr. who hosted a dinner and dined with the group.

Noel continued this tradition of courage, commitment, and dedication throughout his life, serving the fire company in all capacities — as Chief a couple of times, and as Captain. He is currently the department’s Deputy Chief and the town’s Fire Marshal. He also served with the Hampton-Chaplin Ambulance Corp, the Civil Air Patrol, and as a Selectman. This year, he assumed the role of “Santa Claus”.

“Noel furthered his dedication and knowledge in the fire service eventually becoming our town Fire Marshal as well as Coventry’s and other neighboring towns.  He has since retired from the position in Coventry but continues his fire service in fire investigation,” the Demontignys note. “He was one of the major planners helping coordinate the building of the new fire house.  He was a major player in finding and funding the return of our 1953 American LaFrance Engine 112 fire truck that was left in a warehouse.  He has spent hours helping to restore the truck for parade use.”

When the original Engine 112 American La France was discovered and in need of restoration, Noel stepped up to help. The fire truck was a stalwart companion of the firemen and a familiar fixture in the Memorial Day Parade. Says Nancy, “When Noel was contacted about the original Engine 112 he didn’t need to think about it long. He brought the truck home and had it painted and up and running. I am very proud of him for doing this for Hampton. He cares.”

It was Joey Ameer’s idea to return the beloved engine to its home after the discovery that it wasn’t stored properly, coordinating the rescue effort with a couple of townsfolk.   “My dad and Noel were best friends,” Joey relayed. “My whole life Noel has been around. I’ve always looked up to him. He was inspirational to many of us in the fire department. He knows just about everything there is in fire service and fire investigation He’s also very talented at construction and making things — when he wants to make something happen — it’s going to happen no matter what.”  Joey recalled one of the construction projects. “I was pretty little when they built the addition on the back of the firehouse which is now considered the old part and I remember every single weekend going with Dad, probably being in the way most of the time, while they all tore that old section off and built up what is there now. I don’t know how long it took but I’m guessing it had to be the better part of at least a year for them to do it. You don’t see too many guys like that around anymore who have jobs and can stay as dedicated to the volunteer service as Noel has.”

Noel’s public persona is only one facet of his personality. Rich depicts a private side. “Noel can be intimidating in size and demeanor, but you may be surprised to know that a guy who can bull his way into a burning building, spit tobacco like a pro, drive a diesel pickup and can drink most of us under the table has the largest flock of hummingbirds in town.  They fly over his water garden to get to his many waiting feeders.  His garden is made up of beautiful flowers, yes – flowers, not squash or weeds. Last year he brought over some bulbs I thought were some kind of onion. Upon my quizzical look he informed me they were Gladiolas and said you bring them in the house in the winter. Oops — I think they are still waiting for me to do that,” Rich recalls.  “Most recently Noel brought an old friend back into our house — our 1953 American LaFrance engine. With a strong but gentle hand, he has been getting it restored. In life there are people who don’t turn their back on an old friend. Noel is one of those people. I have the upmost respect for the man and am pleased to call him my friend.”

The Gazette’s selection was simple this year, as we unanimously supported the nominations for Noel Waite. As Al said, “The town should be very proud to have Noel. I am happy to see him get this honor.”

Dave and Dale agree. “Noel is very deserving of this Citizen of the Year reward.  We thank him for his years of service and dedication. When he is home and we have a fire or accident he is one of the first responders, always keeping a calm approach, demonstrating efficient leadership.  Always steady under stress.”

Simply put, says Joey, “Noel will always have your back when you need it.”

On the first day of January 2022, the pagers sounded at 7:15pm. The message read:  car vs house, no injuries. Location was near the junction of South Brook and Route 6.  The fog on this night was as thick as pea soup, but that did not prevent a timely response from the Hampton Fire Company (HFC). Six minutes from the initial call the company chief was on scene. Ten minutes from the initial call, two response vehicles and nine other members were on scene, including two EMTs. Considering the nature of the accident, there was relief as well and a bit of head scratching as to how there managed to be no injuries. Sometimes people are just lucky. By 8:15pm, all vehicles and personnel were back at the station.  And thus began the new year for the volunteers of HFC.

The year 2021 saw HFC responding to a total of 174 emergency dispatches. These included 89 medical calls, four structure fires, five fires of other nature, and 19 vehicle accidents. Other dispatches included such things as trees and wires down, basement pumping, response to smoke/CO alarms and mutual aid to other towns, etc.

Due to changing demographics, work situations, and a mobile population, volunteerism is down in Hampton, in Connecticut, and across the country. Nevertheless, HFC has, so far, been able to maintain its all-volunteer status. At this time there are 22 active members on the roles, most of whom work day-jobs out of the area. Member meetings are held the first Wednesday of the month at 7:30pm. Training meetings are on the 2^nd and 4^th Wednesday at 7pm.  We are always looking for, and welcome, new members. It’s not all about rushing into burning buildings – seldom actually. Interested? Stop by. Many hands make light work. There is a job for you.

Fire House Dog