I wasn t born here or even in New England, and I didn t marry someone from here. I married someone from there; there, in this case, being Germany, which is where I worked until we won the Cold War and by the fall of 1991 NATO reduced the overhead and I was placed in a job at Submarine Base, New London, relocating across the ocean.
I arrived about six weeks before my family did that autumn so I was the scout for where we would call home. The realtor showed me all kinds of places across the area (as I remember it) but when I stepped across the threshold of our last stop on that Saturday afternoon, in a house near Chelsea Parade, I knew I was home.
By Bill Kenny, For The Bulletin
I think last week s snow helped accelerate a lot of youngsters heartbeats and even more young-at-hearts to include the two-sizes-too-small one in my own chest even though snow is one of my least favorite vegetables.
This time of year, in New England especially, there s an expectation of snow for Christmas shared by people who don t ski or sled or snowboard but who see it as a celestial seasoning and crowning holiday ornament. I hope they are pleased with themselves right now and in light of the year most of us have been having, I believe they re entitled to put the holiday snowfall in their win column. Small victories are still victories (unless you have to shovel them).