It was only about 2 weeks ago when Stacy and I had been back to Newtown to visit our old neighborhood. On the ride home, I said that if there was one place I would want to move back to, it would be Newtown.
My first job out of UCONN was in Newtown and I quickly fell in love with it’s quintessential New England charm. It was much different then. Very rural, very quiet. It was perfect. My wife Stacy is a native of Newtown and her family goes back generations.When we first were married we lived in my hometown of Fairfield but when she became pregnant with our fist son, Chris, we decided that Newtown was the place we wanted to raise a family.
We lived in the perfect neighborhood. A set of 4 cul de sac’s that formed an ‘H’. Most of the original owners had either moved on or passed and the majority of the homes were occupied by us “30-somethings”. Again–it was perfect.
Our kids all grew up together, we all did things together. Halloween consisted of the dads taking the kids, with a wagon carrying the cooler full of beer, up and down our little neighborhood then everyone getting together at someone’s house for a night of fun and family. When there was snow, we helped each other plow and shovel driveways. There where neighborhood cookouts where both young and old gathered to enjoy each other. There was no judgement, no expectations. Just being together.
There were other times when someone needed help, whether it was to jump start a car, borrow a cup of sugar, or even build an addition on a house. Whatever it was, you just knew that the neighbors where there to lend a hand. Without hesitation and expecting nothing in return. It was perfect.
The parade, the tree lighting. The friendliness and sense of community. It was all perfect.
I realize that times change and perfection may never be achieved but this has torn deep into my heart and soul.
I want to be back more than ever.