I moved to Scottsdale, Arizona when I was thirteen years old. And while I’ve lived here ever since and consider it my home, I was born and raised in Connecticut. Our house was in Scantic—a small community near East Windsor with not much more than a church, a cemetery, historical society, State Park on the Scantic River, along with several home-run businesses like a construction company, art studio, and auto repair. The only new additions since I was a child are a few Airbnbs and some more houses. Otherwise, it’s pretty much the same picture-perfect heart of Colonial New England all these decades later.
Just to give you an idea of what old and quaint Scantic was and continues to be, our house was built fifteen years post the end of the civil war. The original property consisted of many, many acres with the main crop being tobacco—specifically a broad leaf variety used for cigars. Some of you may have heard of the book by Mildred Savage called “Parish” which was made into a 1961 movie of the same name starring Troy Donahue, Connie Stevens, Claudette Colbert, and Karl Malden, among others. Much of the movie was filmed in East Windsor and featured vivid scenes of shaded tobacco fields. Of course, the tobacco industry has died off since then, but there were still some fields when I was a child and one of the original tobacco drying barns on our property remained standing, although it was in great disrepair.
I was able to return for a visit about a year-and-a-half ago. Both my parents are buried there And while it’s far from where I live now, I honored their wishes as they were so happy during the time we lived there. It seemed only fitting they are resting in the cemetery, not far from the graves of Colonial settlers who lived in Scantic during the 1700s.
When I visited, I brought with me and donated a collection of painted primitive art that was done by a friend of my mother’s, Jean Dewey, to the historical society. The scenes on the items are from Scantic and depict the idyllic life from then and now. Small tidbit. Jean Dewey’s adorable son Christopher was in my class at school, and I had a terrible crush on him. In the third grade, he gave me a kiss on my cheek, and after promising not to tell anyone, I proceeded to blab to every girl in my class the following day.
One last note of interest. Scantic was so small, we didn’t have a school and were bussed to Broad Book, the next town over. While considerably larger, Broad Brook is still as charming as ever, and when I visited recently, I was delighted to find that some of the original buildings, like the opera house and general store, were much like they were in my youth.
Thanks for taking this trip down memory lane with me and visiting my hometown. Tell me something memorable about where you grew up and if you ever return for a visit.
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