The river of dreams...

As a child, Middletown, Connecticut was a place that I visited only one time a year. It would happen on the first Saturday of October as cooler air would begin to rush in.  We would race the Head of The Connecticut Regatta, a rowing event that would bring us 3 miles downstream along the Connecticut River.  I still have my medals, one of which was won on a day that virtually every rowing shell was swamped by huge waves under the giant Arigoni Brigde.  I would never have expected to live within a stones throw of this town.  I still go by the Friendly’s on Washington Street and remember my four brothers and I gorging ourselves on ice cream after a long day of racing. So now at almost 40, I find myself in Middletown all the time. It’s got the closest supermarket and the best bike shop around. It’s also has some great photo opportunities. Main street lends itself to a more than a glance. Local historians will tell you about how the great store facades of Middletown were instrumental in trade and mercantilism during the evolution into the 20th century in Connecticut.  So a few nights ago, I took some photos of this diverse town. Few farms remain, but it is clear to me on topography alone, that all roads in Middletown lead to the river.  The river is at the heart of this place and the memories I have of it stay with me. It’s calm as glass in the morning and swirls and rushes in the afternoons. Those unfortunate souls suck in their cars on Route 9 may never clearly see the beauty of Middletown until they see the perspective of it from the river. Once again, in adulthood, I am comparing life from what was experienced in childhood realizing our loves are one jagged line that really brings us full circle. 

 Who better to direct traffic leading onto the bridge than Jesus himself?

And a few oldies...