Hartland III

Rarely in any of my previous posts do I recall relating much regarding our vacations, which were always memorable. It's difficult to pinpoint them in time, so I'll just relate some of them, somewhat in order. I believe I related some of the ones wherein there were just the two of us.



However, once we had a bunch of kids, vacations were different. I remember when we were still living at Lake Garda, I bought a big, fancy tent with steel ribbing and a waterproof floor. Also a chemical toilet. We were going to "rough it", and headed north to Maine. This was before the days of the Interstate system, and even before Boston's outer loop, Route 128. So we had to drive right through downtown Boston to get to Maine. We went to a Maine State Park and camped by a lake. In those days, at that park there were no prepared campsites, you had to do it yourself. So I cleared and leveled a spot on a gentle hillside near the lake and pitched the tent, and nearby established the chemical toilet. We went swimming every day and had a great time. One night there was really a torrential rain, with rivlets of water coming down the hillside, and you could feel the water flowing under the floor of our tent! But we kept dry.



Quite often we would make the 500 mile trip to Pittsburgh to visit Marjorie's folks. Once, just to be different, I took a ruler and drew a straight line from Unionville to Pittsburgh, and we followed it as close as existing roads would permit. It was fun, driving through the Pocano mountains of eastern Pennsylvania. Took an extra half day, but it was worth it. In those days, often we didn't have much money, and we took care of eating by stopping at a grocery store for a few supplies, then cooking over a primus stove we took along.



Once my Dad rented a cottage down at the shore on Long Island Sound. So we were able to stay there for several days. The Sound stayed rather chilly until rather late in the season. But it was fun.



We regularly used to go to Rocky Neck State Park to go swimming in the Sound, but one day when we were there, the place was filled with people from New York, and I remember swimming past a floating hot dog. I decided the place was too crowded, and resolved to find a better place. So our next place to try was Hamonasset State Park, which also had campsites. So we camped there once, but it was also crowded. Shirley was not quite a toddler and had trouble sleeping when we camped there. We called her "All day, all night Shirley Ann".

The next place I think we tried was Misquamicut State Park in Rhode Island. I really don't remember that much about it, but it still was on the Sound, not the Atlantic Ocean.

Ultimately we found a really nice place to swim in the ocean. It was a little further, but the beech actually faced the ocean, rather than just on the sound, so the waves were bigger. This was Scarborough State Beach in Rhode Island. It wasn't as crowded, though a lot of people did come down from Boston to swim there. There are movies of the kids there.



Back to Hartland: Not long after moving to East Hartland, I put up a TV antenna. I was up at the peak of the roof putting up the antenna, complete with antenna rotor, so that we could aim it for Hartford, Springfield, Boston, or New York. While I was busy up there (even though I'm scared of heights), guess who came along: A life insurance salesman, who tried to sell me a policy right while I was up there on the roof!



When I was "prospecting" for a house in Hartland, I happened to stop in at the younger Parmalee's place, and asked about the typical weather. Mrs. Parmalee said "It's cooler here all year round". And so it was. One winter I had a large thermometer under the apple tree in the front yard, and early one morning in the dead of winter, the thermometer stood at -25 deg. F. Bu there was no wind, so it wasn't so bad. Typically each winter we would shovel snow as high as the car.



Slippery conditions made interesting driving in Hartland. In the winter, sometimes coming home from work could be a challenge. There was particularly one spot, rather steep, and curved. If you go too slow, you loose traction and will never make it up the hill. If you go too fast, you'll run off the road on the wrong side of the road.



Connecticut has a lot more fog than is typical for the Midwest. I remember one very foggy night coming home from work. I heard on the radio that a plane had landed at Bradley Field, but then got lost on the ground in the fog. They sent a vehicle out to guide the plane in, but it too got lost, so they had to send a man out on foot to guide the vehicle to guide the plane in. That same night, I drove right out from under the fog, and when I got to the center of East Hartland I could see the stars!



But on several other occasions, it was a different story. One night on the way home from work, the fog actually got thicker with higher altitude, and when I got to the top of the hill, I was simply following the yellow line at the edge of the road, because that was all I could see. However, at the intersection of Hartland Blvd (Rte 20) and Mountain Rd, the yellow line ran out, and I had to continue strictly by "dead reckoning" to get past it. You could see your hand in front of your face, but not much past it.

Winter was a fun time for the kids too. They used to take their sleds up to Pell Hill Road and slide down into Old Town Road. One kid would stay at the bottom of the hill on Old Town Road and be the lookout for any oncoming cars.

Which reminds me. At any time of the year they would have fun riding down the stairs in cardboard boxes.

Trips to Pittsburgh were always an adventure. And it would take forever to have everyone ready to start the trip. Neither were the trips without incidents. One classic case I'll never forget: We had gone 5 miles on the start of this 500 mile trip, just to the bottom of the hill, to Granby, and two juice jugs had crashed together and broke, and one kid was already "car sick"!

One tough trip in midsummer, we failed to find a motel with vacancy, and had to sleep in the car and it was terribly hot and muggy. Patricia was quite little yet, and was crying, and scratched her belly with her finger nails. Those marks were still there a month later!

After several years working at Kaman Aircraft Corp., I decided to change the direction of my life. I didn't like being an "employee", especially a "permanent" employee. I felt trapped. In the winter time the only time I saw my place in Hartland by daylight was on week ends.

There was a fellow working at Allen D. Cardwell Electronics in Plainville, Ct while I was working there. He was a consultant. I figured, if he can do it, so can I. So that was my goal. I contacted and had an interview with Wendell Carroll, the owner of Regent Controls in Stamford, CT. The result was a consulting contract whereby I worked for them 4 days per week: Monday and Tuesday in Stamford, Wednesday and Thursday in Hartland. I devoted the fifth day to pursuing that Master's degree in Electronics Engineering. It worked out beautifully, and I had much more time with the family.

Well, of course I have a whole lifetime to write about yet, but it's getting late, so must quit for now.

Hartland II

I mentioned the birches in the swamp north of the house. In the winter sometimes there would be an ice storm and the birches would be coated with ice. I've seen them bent over so far that they would almost touch the ground.

We lived in East Hartland from 1956 to 1970. When we first moved up there, I had a regular engineering job with Kaman Aircraft Corporation in Bloomfield, and I was occasionally working towards a Master's degree at the University of Connecticut. At the time we moved up there, we had 5 children: Gifford Jr and Patricia, born in Hartford, Yvonne born in Maryland, and Tom and Shirley born in Bristol.

Shortly after moving to East Hartland, I joined the Congregational church there. And shortly thereafter, our neighbor across the street, who was the treasurer of the East Hartland Congregational church was found to have been embezzeling funds. For some reason, some of the Norwegeans in town pitched in to help solve our problem, including running the offender out of town within 24 hours. When questioned about it, the Norski's said "Oh, we're pretty good Swedes" Apparently that is a Norwegean saying for "tough guys". Note that Norway was under Sweden for a long time. This may explain a little Norwegean ditty: "Ten thousand Swedes ran through the weeds, chased by one Norwegean".

We moved in the fall of 1956, at the time of the presidential election, and Eisenhower was running for a second term. Prior to moving, I had watched former President Hoover on TV putting in a good word for Eisenhower. I also remenber hearing an interview on the radio with Kerenski, the Russian Premier prior to the Communist revolution. They asked him, "would you consider returning to Russia?" He said "No, not as long as the Communists are runnng the governement".

Once we got to East Hartland, the election took place. On the eve of the election, England and France invaded Egypt without telling up first. I think we put pressure on them to get out of Egypt.

Not long after moving, a couple of my co-workers at Kaman Aircraft asked if they could come up and stay at our place for 24 hours, to take part in a big amateur radio contest. East Hartland being 1,192 feet altitude gave it an advantage for high frequency propagation. So we agreed, and as part of the deal, they agreed to leave their equipment behind for several weeks for my use, as I still had a Novice ticket, WN1WWO.

In preparation for the move, I had put the place at Lake Garda / Unionville up for sale, without results. So I temporarily gave up, and rented it.

That fall in Hartland, I remember for some reason there were a zillion and one crickets along the south side of our house there.

Our property line came fairly close to the house on the south side. Ted Aagre lived in the house to the south, and his original intention was to sell several building lots out of that land. He and his wife were originally from Norway, but he also was a retired boat buildier from Long Island. He had built our house and sold it to Arthur Aasland. Arthur Aasland was more recently from Norway. He didn't really have a last name, but took the name of Aasland, as that's the region he came from in Norway. I don't believe he attended the Norwegean church, nor the Congregational church either, for that matter. He's the one I got the Norwegean sayings from.

I got Ted Aagre to build for me a couple of bookshelves, which Yvonne has now. There is no back, as they lean against the wall. I was very particular as to the distance between the shelves, so that tall books could be accommodated.

Pretty much every year we had a vegetable garden, and Marjorie started to have flower gardens, especially around the west (front), and south side of the house. One of her main specialties was roses.

There were always a lot of rocks turned up once the garden was plowed. So I came up with a "limited time offer" for the kids to pick up rocks and add them to the stone wall. Let's say I offered 2 cents for a small rock and 5 cents for a large rock. This was a very limited time offer, like one hour maybe. Man, you should see those rocks move like lightening from the field to the stone wall! I belive I have a picture of all the kids sitting on the stone wall afterwards.

Thanks kids for giving me the "nudge" to continue with this history. It's better I do this than waste time watching TV.