Thanksgiving in Farmington, CT

Woke up yesterday morning to the sight of snow falling steadly outside our windows. Except here, the plow comes regularly .. back in Quincy it requires a Biblical snowstorm to get a plow on a side street the same day. If at all.

The folks came down from the Berkshires and up from New Jersey and we had a nice meal, with everyone's attention on how much my daughter has learned and grown in the past year or so. Because we're here and not near Boston, we're closer to those family members and already we've seen them more than we did in five years there.

It was a lovely meal, but it was also a lovely day, even with the snow and LemonTruck deciding it was time for the gear box to die.

I thought a lot about this holiday on two fronts.

First, its historical meaning and significance.

The source of the T-Day myth comes from two paragraphs -- one in a pamphlet published in 1622 titled "Mourt's Relation," another from "Of Plymouth Plantation," the diary/memoir written by Mass. Bay Colony Gov. William Bradford. That's it: two paragraphs relating to a feast of some sort to which Massasoit and about 90 native americans were invited.

For one group, it was the end of the beginning. They had endured horrible hardship, seen half of their number perish, and yet made it through. They were going to survive.

For one group, it was the beginning of the end. These white settlers who had arrived on their shore a year ago were going to stay, and more like them would arrive. They had guns, they had germs for which there was no resistance, they had plans fueled by religious fervor and the machinery of the mercantile system and their own dreams.

Within a generation or two, the two sides that came together for a feast in 1621 were fighting King Phillip's War, a guerilla conflict in which scorched earth policies and collateral damage were the rule, not the exception. Its scars persist.

On a day when Americans are thankful, the price that was paid by all involved -- espescially those from whom much was taken -- is worth remembering.

Second point: About year ago, a PBS series called "Colonial House" aired. In it, Americans from the 21st Century were sent to live in a 17th Century colonial village. They didn't fare so well, but that was besides the point: In their struggle, I saw my own struggle to find a place where my family could afford to live happily and safely, where I could make a good living, where my daughter could play and grow and thrive. It resonated. And it upset me to some degree because like the would-be settlers, I was having a hard time succeeding at my goal.

So a year later, to be here and realize that which seemed so far away has come true .. well, I have much to be thankful for. And so celebrating over a hearty meal with family and friends... it felt good.

We are indeed blessed.

Crash on the Levee

"Now it's king for king, queen for queen,
It's gonna be the meanest flood anybody's seen."
- "Down in the Flood," Bob

It was 3:45 a.m. and I had just gotten home from work. I opened the door to the basement, turned on the light, and walked down the stairs.

Oh, no.


soggy basement 

About a foot of water. Everywhere. The entire length and breadth of the basement, covered. An indoor lake. A groundwater swimming pool.

Anything that was on the floor was soaked, possibly ruined.

I had worried about flooding since it had rained more than a week steady here in CT. (Later, we would learn it was the second-rainiest month on record, second only to August 1955, when the remnants of two hurricanes flooded this state, killing 87 people.) I don't know if the sump pump failed or if it had been overwhelmed. But there it was.

"911, what's your emergency?"

Funny. Driving home I had been behind a truck from Tunxis Hose Company No. 1, the volunteer department that serves our part of town. "They must have been busy tonight, I thought.

Before I knew it Rescue 15 was outside my door, setting up shop for the umpteenth basement pump-out of the evening.


firefighter in basement 

Let me tell you something: These guys had been going all night ... they could have been surly and tired and I would have understood. But they were professional and treated our call like it was the first of the night, not the last. They rocked.

They were done by about 5, leaving Michelle and I to sort through what got wet and see what we could salvage.

Some stuff got ruined. But other items ... including my journal of Michelle's pregnancy and the first card she ever gave me, were saved. It was hit and miss.

Dad drove down from Massachusetts that morning with a wet-dry vac, some fans and a dehumidifier. We got most of it cleaned out and on the road to dryness, and if there was a bright side, it was this: the basement is a lot cleaner and more organized.

Things to do: Get a new sump pump.