I moved to Connecticut many years ago, half a lifetime. It seemed a place of lost identity, and for me, that suited my wish for exile and hiding. I found work and eventually romance of a kind. I settled here, anxious to give my sons the kind of stable home I never knew, but always I felt this place was missing what I’d found in other places – an identify of its own.
Connecticut is a crisscross of highways, train tracks, and anemic cities, all aimed at giving people a way to go to other places. It sits almost equidistant between New York and Boston. It offers a straight shot to Vermont and, to a lesser extent, New Hampshire. People here traditionally talk of traveling to find their weekend. It’s been rare to hear people discuss this state as a place they purposely chose for enjoyment. Until now.
View original post 172 more words