Author Archives: Hampton Gazette

Town News

The Board of Selectmen held a special meeting on April 23 to decide two important issues: paying taxes and commemorating Memorial Day.

Residents should be relieved that property taxes will not be due and payable until October 1. The Governor’s Executive Orders provided municipalities with two options for tax collection — a deferment program or a low interest rate for late payments. The Selectmen adopted a 90-day deferment program, which applies to all residents, nonprofits, and businesses; and while the Selectmen will not require taxpayers to submit an affidavit proving financial hardship due to Covid-19, taxpayers are encouraged to submit tax payment on July 1 if they are financially able.  Selectmen will also rely on escrowed tax payments, and the General Fund if necessary, to cover expenses in the interim.

A less popular decision, though just as necessary, cancellation of the traditional Memorial Day parade and ceremony in order to adhere to social distancing and to avoid attracting crowds. The committee will be meeting to determine alternate commemorations, which will include the traditional wreath on the Town Hall Memorial that residents can visit to pay their respects. Residents are also encouraged to throw a flower into the water at the Little River Bridge, a tradition of the Naval Ceremony which usually takes place there. Lastly, the Fire Department might be recruited to form a procession around town for neighbors to view from the privacy of their own driveways. In other words, the parade (sans the marching band, the horses, the tractors and the scouts) will come to you, rather than you coming to the parade!

FROM THE OFFICE OF THE FIRST SELECTMAN & COVID-19 EMERGENCY MANAGEMENT

Our little town is still one of the few areas in Connecticut that is officially free of the virus. You can help to continue that trend by physically distancing yourselves from as many people as possible. We have been posting Hampton Covid-19 Emergency Resource messages on Facebook (Hampton Covid-19 Emergency Resource Team) and the Nextdoor app in Hampton. For up-to-date information, look to the CDC and State of Connecticut websites, which are found easily by doing an online search.

The most vulnerable Hampton residents are senior citizens and those with underlying illnesses, like diabetes, heart problems and lung related illnesses. If you have neighbors who are in this category, please reach out to them and offer your help with food shopping and picking up medicine.

Now is the time to review the CDC guidelines and contact your immediate neighbors to identify their needs and to arrange help should they be in need. If you know of a senior in your neighborhood, make sure to touch base with them and to offer your help should the situation arise. Our entire community depends on how well everyone follows these guidelines and remains at home as much as possible.

STAY SAFE—WASH YOUR HANDS—HELP YOUR NEIGHBORS—STAY HOME!

Allan Cahill

First Selectman 

A FEW BASIC FACTS ABOUT TRANSMITTING COVID-19

The Coronavirus is a droplet-borne infection. It enters our bodies through our mouth, nose and eyes. When someone sneezes or coughs, it has been shown that the droplets can travel up to 9-12 feet at an extreme. When the droplets fall onto a surface, we can pick up the virus with our hands or clothing. When we touch our face, the virus can enter our body through any of the three pathways. Officially the safe distance is 6 feet but when someone coughs hard, the droplets can travel far beyond 6 feet. Air currents easily carry the droplets. Maintain the furthest distance possible when you are in a store.

When you shop, wear gloves and wear a mask.  The mask does not prevent you from getting the virus but stops infected people from  transmitting their droplets over a great distance. A homemade cloth mask will do a sufficient job in limiting the spread of droplets.

When you remove your gloves, wash your hands with soapy water for 20 seconds. This will disable any virus on your hands. Use a disinfectant to clean any part of the car you may have touched, your door handles on the house and anything you touched when you entered your home. If you still work outside the home, remove your clothes when you enter the house and separate them into a laundry bag or put them directly into the washing machine. Shower before redressing.

If you are a senior citizen and/or have an underlying illness like diabetes, lung problems or heart related problems, you are at high risk should you contract this virus. Please make every effort to protect yourself during this pandemic.

    Jamie Boss, Sr.

Hampton Deputy Emergency Management

Director and Information Officer

Our Rural Heritage: The Delivery of Milk

The days of milk delivery seem so long ago that the use of the cliché after the birth of a child who resembles neither parent dates us! But that changed in March when Mountain Dairy made the decision to reinstitute the delivery service through the course of the pandemic, and the milkman resumed his route.

Corey Thatcher, who stopped delivering milk to households in 2012, was happy to return to the familiar red and gold milk truck and to customers’ homes, where many of those Mountain Dairy milk boxes remained on many a front door step. On the first day, Thayer made twenty deliveries. In less than a week, he delivered to ninety customers in eighteen towns. Now there are many customers ordering home delivery of all varieties of milk, cream, juice, butter and eggs. Mountain Dairy has also teamed with another legendary provider of beverages, Hosmer Mountain, to offer for delivery Root Beer, Birch Beer, and Seltzer.

The Stearns family has owned and operated Mountain Dairy Farm since 1772 with the premise that “all milk is not created equal”. Connoisseurs of fine dairy products note the distinction in a freshness that comes from organic everything. The family grows its own corn and hay and takes exceptional care of the cows and the processing methods. “We do our best to make sure your milk tastes every bit as delicious as the milk produced by the ten generations of Stearns Family that have worked the land before us,”  their website boasts. Milk delivery to households started in 1871 and continued for 140 years, until a decline in orders and customers forced the difficult decision to cease that particular service. With the imposed social distancing, reinstituting delivery was an easier decision.

This is just the most recent chapter in the long history of milk delivery in Hampton. Milk, its production and delivery, has been an integral part of our town’s operations since our incorporation, with dairy farms the number one industry through the first half of the 20th century. From “Hampton Remembers”:

We had five or six cows and we sold milk to the neighbors. All around us was summer folks, you might say. That was my job, I used to run around to the neighbors and deliver the milk on my bicycle, the bottles of milk in the basket on the handlebars. Those days we got ten cents a quart. Dad got eight cents and I got two for deliverin’ it.

Robert Fitts

When I was a small boy my day started about ha’ past five or a little earlier than that because we had to have our milk cooled and down to Elliot Station by seven o’clock.

Harold Stone

I used to go a lot to the railroad cause every morning the milk went to the railroad train and for years my father, and my grandfather earlier, they drove the milk truck and we’d make the rounds, pick up the milk, go either to Hampton or over to Clark’s Corner – let’s see, we picked up from four farms. And then we would go to the milk train at Hampton station but that being a dirt road, it was easier to go to Clark’s Corner – the milk train stopped in both places.

George Fuller

The first train in the morning was the milk train goin’ east to Boston, a little before seven. That was the biggest pick-up anywhere along the line, at Hampton station. They brought milk in there from Hampton, Chaplin, Ashford, Eastford.

John Hammond

My father, George Kimball…shipped his milk to Boston – first, I remember, in eight-quart cans with wooden plugs and then later they got out the twenty-quart cans with the metal cap. At times the milkmen went on regular strike and would hold all the milk at home. And then we had a big cream separator and we separated the cream and took it to Brooklyn to the creamery where they made butter out of it.

Arthur Kimball

All the farmers here sold their milk to the Whiting Milk Company in Boston. They had platforms by the railroad tracks that were even with the doors of the cars and they’d bring the cans there and then the empties would be thrown out onto the platform – and they were never washed. You had to wash the cans yourself. They held eight or eight-and-a-half quarts and had a handle and a wooden stopper. And those stoppers were always sour, most of the year, they had to be boiled. The last that I remember their being used Josie Smith washed the cans for the Lincolns and the Hammonds and I don’t know how many more. That was her job and they paid her. We took them to her house where she washed them. Usually one person collected the milk from all the farms in the neighborhood and took it to the station.

John Lewis

Another of my jobs was to scrub those milk cans and how I hated it. Believe me they had to be scrubbed to pass my mother’s inspection! We’d use a cloth and very strong soap, hot water – and she’d say “take your fingernail and go ‘round the seams” – really to get things clean — and then they had to be scalded with boiling water, of course, and dried.

Evelyn Estabrooks

Mountain Dairy delivers to Hampton on Tuesdays. Orders must be received by 2PM the day prior to the delivery. Payment is cash or check at the time of delivery to the driver. If you no longer have a milk box, you may leave out a cooler. Orders can be placed online at: www.mountaindairy.com, or call 860-423-9289.

 

View from the Window

A few years ago, I decided to maintain a journal of nature observations. After writing every entry, I would read Edwin Way Teale’s daily reflection from his “Walk through the Year”, furthering my profound respect for him and my understanding of New England’s unpredictable climate. It’s a daunting task –some days there’s so much to record – new flowers, new birds, and sometimes there’s only the weather. I started with the morning’s first view from the window, continuing to record what I witnessed there throughout the rest of the year. There’s a social media site “View from My Window” where people from all over the country and the world share a perspective with which they probably never spent so much time. I encourage others to join. It’s just another way to unite us. And to appreciate the view from ours. And I encourage you to write, not only of this experience, as I know many are, but also of the beauty you observe in this time of time and of patience. And of spring. On my birthday, Teale’s entry states: “The great gift of our lives is the gift of awareness”. I might not have many talents, yet I’m glad I’ve never neglected to make the most of that one.

Our bedroom window frames the winter morning; it is always the first view. The mountain laurel branch reaches across the glass, choleric leaves curled against the cold, casting interesting sketches on the white canvas. Beyond, there is snow as far as the eye can see. It starts at the sill, pours forth, a smooth surface of dunes, as a desert, extends all the way to the stonewall, with the bluish shadows of trees lengthening, shortening, lengthening, disappearing, darker shadows of crows crossing, and occasional colorful feathers threading my vision, scratching the silence. The trees are rimed with frost, snow settles in crevices, across horizontal branches, dusts the barren limbs of shrubs. The field beyond the stonewall is a white sea, to the rows of tree trunks of far-away oaks, another field seen between their dark trunks to distant maples, their thickly twigged statures obscuring the view beyond, as impenetrable as later leaves; the difference is color – they are charcoal now. The snow will slowly melt, revealing first the stonewall, the earth surrounding the trunks of trees, southern slopes, the evergreen leaves of azaleas, the separate stones of paths, and lastly, the icy chunks underscoring the stonewall where the sun is last to reach. All will become the subtle gray green of early spring. In another few weeks, the crocuses will sprinkle the soil underlining the window, and the robins will return to the barren branches of the crab apple that serve as a frame for the view of spring: the daffodil “Sweetness” forms a fringe along the window sill, while tete-a-tete narcissus descend the lawn that stretches, increasingly emerald, to the stonewall, a greening pasture beyond. Early leaves like jewels ripen along the gray branches of the trees – burgundy on the crab apple, sage on the ash, the pale green of the oaks, spears first, then crinkled leaves slowly unfurling, and in the distant meadow, the nearer trunks of oaks stripe the billowy rows of the maples’ rust and chartreuse. Next to come alive, the arch of the crabapple branch, its leaves maroon as they emerge, and then its flowers, rose colored buds that open to wine petals, framing another crab apple, dark buds opening apple-blossom pink, and the azaleas – first the sparkle of a woodland white, then the flounce of mauve, the paler version, the grape purple, the magenta, the sumptuous rose, and lastly the pale pink. Purple iris rise from the garden visible from the window and spears of deep blue lupine, and pastel columbines float on invisible stems. Then the window’s favorite season — the mountain laurels between them, so as not to inhibit the view, become the view as they flower, a few of their branches reaching across the panes with pale pink pillows opening to palest pink tea cups; and the peonies, fragrant, floating bowls of sherbet, powder puffs of pink, peach, apricot, cream, rose, their ruffled faces at the window’s rim, perfuming the room. Pale and plum purple clematis climb the arbor in the garden, and the indigo spires of veronica mirror the gazing ball that sits on a stone pedestal at its center, later becoming ringed with the violet blossoms of stokesia. Then the lilies start to burst along the window sill: trumpets of yellow and gold, of butterscotch and pumpkin, of ivory and scarlet. And in the garden, phlox – white and pink, pink with white centers and white with pink centers, candy cane colors, purplish, magenta, rose, shell pink, bubble gum pink, baby pink — intertwine with the lavender spires of obedient plant as the beauty berry becomes jeweled with clusters of violet florets. In late summer, Joe Pye weed rises five feet, intermingled with the limbs of the mountain laurel, and in the fall, the garden fills with asters – the wild blue asters like pale wisps of lavender clouds billow around the gazing ball, and behind them, a taller row of pink and purple New England asters swap seeds for their magnificent display of cascading branches of blooms, and a curve of sedum “Autumn Joy” in its kaleidoscope of pinks skirts the garden’s rim as the trees begin to ignite – first the russet frame of the crabapple, then the orange fire of the ash tree beyond, then the zelkhova, a coppery pyramid, and lastly the golden flame of the maple. With the leaves creating a carpet rather than a canopy, the berries visible from the window are revealed — the cranberry fruit of the crabapples, the scarlet berries of a holly, the amethyst clusters of the callicarpa — and the birds they beckon. November’s gray brings mornings and afternoons of cement, with only the horizons flushed with color in the sun’s risings and settings. Only the stubble of gardens is left, only the skeletons of trees and shrubs, the lanterns, the chairs, the wind chimes, then they, too, hibernate, leaving only the view of the weather. The gray view of the gray weather to the gray stonewall: empty birdhouses, empty benches. All is barren until the first snow falls, initially dusting the trees and the stonewall, then painting them, the gray rocks coated, the evergreens frosted, tier over tier, a smooth sea of white, pure and unmarked at first, then pricked and criss-crossed with the travels of wildlife, later piling against the tree trunks to the split of their limbs, burying benches and shrubs, hurling along the stone wall to consume it entirely so it resembles a white wave cresting, everything white, framed with the window’s frost and icicles. And then the slow melt. The leaching of white, inch after inch, the return of gray, lichened and mossed, waiting for the paint strokes of birds and flowers. No one, in all probability, would ever paint this scene framed by this window, and yet it is the picture that speaks to me first every morning. It is a part of my heart.

Dayna McDermott

SURVIVING COV-IDIOCY

Random Notes on a New World

More than a few years back, in a time of challenging transition after my mother had died, my dearest friend remarked to me that “every decision you make affects your survival.” That one took a while to sink in.

Now, in fact, it appears that every decision we do make affects our survival, from disinfecting handles to everything we touch, and let’s face it folks, while most of us Yankees may take pride at being reserved, we sure are (at least subliminally) touchy-feely.

Give yourself a minute (use an egg-timer—and  yes, I’m dating myself) and count the number of things that you touch entering your home: keys, door, handle, jumping huggy dog, perhaps jumping huggy child(ren), coat, coatrack, hat, hair, mask, face, the list goes on….

MASK. Yes, that’s the new normal. The four things on my mental list as I leave the house: keys, phone, wallet, mask. They have replaced fragrant tree car deodorizers and fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. They are required everywhere we go, and now, instead of noticing who has a mask, we tend to focus a bit of misdirected resentment for who doesn’t wear a mask, or who isn’t “social distancing”. And what an abject silly phrase that has come to be. Yep, I’m a little on edge, and I don’t think that I’m the only one.

My neighbor and occasional shopping companion commented recently that nothing is like it used to be when we grew up: “You mean having to plan trips when stores are closed up early? You mean actually washing our hands every single time our mothers told us to? You mean, having to make do with what we have?”

I think we’re back there. Not that I’m going to put dried beef (the kind that comes in the star embossed jar that we later saved for drinking glasses) on my grocery list.

I’m calling my new philosophy “Zen-kee”, a cross of Zen: mindfulness and thoughtful consideration (trying  like hell to let go of judgment—and yes, that smidge of entitlement) with a healthy dose of Yankee common sense.

At least, that’s what I’m going with now. That is, if the dog doesn’t stop wanting to go out altogether, as we’ve already been out seven times, and that’s just this morning. She’s ready for a nap.

 Mary Oliver

Auntie Mac

Dear Auntie Mac,

Having recently retired here, I’m so relieved to find myself in a small community that feels so much safer during the coronavirus crisis than the large city I came from. I’m also so grateful for all the nature preserves which have kept me occupied this spring. Most of my acquaintances here are elderly like myself, and so we’re all social distancing, and I must admit, I’m starved for contact. When this isolation lifts, what are the surest ways for me to plunge into Hampton society?

Ready to Rock

My Dear Neighbor:

Congratulations on your retirement, and on choosing our bucolic little nook as the place to begin what you seem to wish will be a whirlwind of social activity and nonstop entertainment. While Auntie Mac applauds your desire to immediately slide your social shuttle into the warp and woof of Hampton “society,” she would gently advise you to do so with grace, tact, and a measure of respect for those already established here. While Hamptonites are a welcoming group, we are after all consummate New Englanders and expect certain courtesies from newcomers that include deference, admiration (we do so adore admiration), and a need for things to be introduced to us gradually, as flour into a smooth béchamel.  Many a well-meaning neophyte, trying to explain in his or her first meeting how “things are done,” has felt the humbling sting of reproach from a town elder. Better an exploratory toe than a “plunge,” then, into the social pool, dear. You may start with a trip to your neighbors to introduce yourself; you can even do that now, from a safe distance. Lars finds that needing to shout pleasantries from across a hayfield leaves a more lasting and positive impression on the interaction. I quite agree. Next, I’d urge you to visit the Town’s website and community calendar, and get on as many notification lists as possible—from the very active Senior group to the Recreation Committee. Write or call and introduce yourself, explain your interests, and ask to please be included in any future activity or event notifications.  If you have come from a rather exotic location, say, Mauritania, The Cote D’Asur, or Dubuque, consider writing an article for the Gazette, which is always looking for interesting stories and anecdotes. You might even try writing something about what you have observed on all your walks and rambles since you’ve moved here. And when we are all released from this beastly cage of isolation, uncertainty and precaution, by all means attend every commission and committee meeting to both introduce yourself and offer your volunteer services in those areas you find most fascinating. For Hampton, dear, is nothing short of fascinating, and it is up to each one of us, virus or no virus, to discover that for ourselves.

Auntie Mac

Passages

Robert “Bob” S. Zajac, Sr. passed away on November 3, 2019 at the age of 76. A member of the Marine Corps, he was first stationed in Okinawa to work on aircraft and then served as a helicopter gunner during his tour in Vietnam. He loved his family and was close to his children and grandchildren across the miles that separated them. Our condolences to all of them.

Garland Thomen passed away on November 25, 2019 at the age of 83 surrounded by family. A graduate of UCONN, Garland taught at Lyman Memorial and E.O. Smith and was a quarterfinalist in the Challenger Shuttle Teacher in Space Program. Our condolences to his family, especially to our neighbors Marlies and John and his granddaughters Scotia and Niamh.

Gregory Howard Payne passed away on December 7, 2019 in the 65th year of his life. A member of Elisha Dyer Camp 7 of The Sons of Union Veterans of the Civil War, he served three terms as Camp Commander, conducting school programs to demonstrate the daily life of soldiers and participating in Civil War living history events. Condolences to his family and to Shelley Bertell of Hampton.

Lisa Levesque Tamalavic passed away on January 17, 2020 in the 53rd year of her life. Born on June 24, 1966, she was the daughter of the late Sidney and Lydia Levesque. Lisa worked as a home health aide for many years. A much loved member of Community Companion and Homemaking Services, she will be missed by staff and by her clients. Our condolences to all.

Grace Rogers Burdick passed away on February 12, 2020 in the 90th year of her life. A life-long resident, Grace attended our one-room school houses. She was musically gifted, playing piano and singing at Howard Valley Church. Grace was predeceased by her husband Malcolm, daughter Janet, and son Thomas. Condolences to her surviving children David Burdick and Dawn Cwirka.

Lois Siegmund passed away on February 18, 2020, at age 95. Born January 13, 1925, Lois studied chemistry at the University of Rochester, embarking on a teaching career at Genesee Junior College and Woodstock Academy until her retirement in 1995. “Passionate in her politics, courageous in her views, never timid in speaking her mind, yet always full of warmth and humor,” her family delighted in the charm and intelligence of her company. Condolences to all, especially to our neighbor, Lisa.

From The Hampton Gazette

Dear Readers,

The only thing on the news for weeks now, understandably, is the coronavirus and its effects, which fortunately has not plagued us as it has many communities. There are, however, other things happening here in town, and we’re committed to delivering you news of them, as well as sources for other pertinent information.

Since some residents really enjoyed our April Fools issue last year (while others were merely confused) we’ve decided to spread some humor throughout this edition as well, relying on the belief that laughter really is the very best medicine (at least until a vaccine is developed). Through communal efforts, this issue offers information on many timely topics, some “prescriptions” for dealing with the coronavirus from a local physician, suggestions for activities to occupy us from the Recreation Commission, and a recipe that takes into consideration the current shortage of flour. From the sagacious Auntie Mac, we have advice for spring chickens, gardening recommendations in the season of planting, and in preparation for Easter, a charming story about bunnies to share with children (a blessed relief after what probably constituted a lifetime supply of “April Fools” for parents subjected to what teachers normally endure on their most dreaded of school holidays).

“Coming to Hampton” reports on the impressions of a young person who’s temporarily very far from home in these troubling times; and our series continues with a brief history of one of our barns and a tribute to a neighbor who beautifully preserved “Our Rural Heritage”.

Stay well, friends. We hope our town newspaper helps to keep us connected with one another during this distancing. Please submit to us any information that would be useful, humorous, inspirational for next month’s publication. This too shall pass, and will be long remembered as something else that we (as individuals and as a community) have survived.

The Hampton Gazette

Town News

The Town Hall will be closed to the public until further notice, with only officials and staff allowed in the building. Requests for services and information can be made by phone, mail, or email. All meetings are cancelled at this time, though plans are in place for facilitating meetings electronically. Hampton Elementary School and Parish Hill Middle/High School, along with other area schools, remain closed as well. The Department of Public Works and the Transfer Station continue to remain functioning.

An information and resource team, with Jamie Boss appointed as the Emergency Preparedness Officer, has been assembled to be responsible for providing residents with pertinent information during the Covid-19 emergency. The initial venues for distributing information are the “Nextdoor” email exchange, and Facebook’s “Hampton Covid-19 Emergency Resource Team” page in order to facilitate immediate announcements. Eventually information will be on the town website as well.

First Selectman Allan Cahill asks residents to “Please be sensible not exposing frail seniors or people with other health conditions to respiratory illness. Neighbors, friends and family should pitch in with groceries, supplies, and moral support when at risk people need to avoid public spaces,” closing his message with #Hampton no other place to shelter in place.