Essex Ct. : Mother's Day for a Submarine Veteran

It was the day before Mother's Day. We needed to get out of the house. There is just so much you can take of the endlessly repeated contentious arguments on TV about the Presidential Primary. It is possible (strange to say) to know too much. I really don't like hearing and thinking about the all too familiar voice and "baggage" of Hillary Clinton or rumors of the left handed Barack Obama's "sinister associates".

Essex Ct. provided exactly what we craved. As so often happens in our lives, we went somewhere simply to get away, and came to find a destination out of sheer coincidence that thrust upon us an undeserved (because we hadn't planned it) richness of experience. I suppose that some would have it that serendipity is the " face of God " and therefore represents planning of an entirely different sort. 

Stepping out of a contemporary vehicle with all the built in technological advances and engineering brilliance, onto the sidewalk of Main Street in downtown Essex, provides, (if you are receptive to those surroundings) the opportunity to step from "the jangle of the present"  back into "the comfort of the past": Narrow sidewalks, uninterrupted rows of white "historical register" homes, many with black trim, some were set back from the sidewalk by up to forty feet but most rise up starkly, just where the sidewalks end. Innumerable gardens of flowers and brilliant greenery, flowering dogwoods of both the white and pink variety and then there were the ubiquitous lilacs in front, side or back yards and regardless of their source the fragrances mingled unashamedly into many pockets of space through which we passed, those spaces may have been invisible but they were indelible to the senses. 

Main Street leads down to the waters of the Connecticut River where the street ends in a cul-de-sac. There is a small sandy strip there with ducks in circular motion and a couple of docks, benches, nearby marinas and a large white barn like structure housing the Nautical Museum. The sky was clear, the air was warm, the water was calm and dotted with white unoccupied moorings. Most boats were still in storage. The last historical house on the street before the waters edge has a sign over the door. When I first saw it from a distance I read " Foot of Man "  which certainly seemed intellectually challenging but then as we approached, it became clearer " Foot of Main ". I imagined living there and telling invited guests to come to the foot of Main and to be sure to look for the duplicative sign.

It was on our stroll back that we met Paul. He was seated on a bench in a beautiful postage stamp park area that faced Main Street with an extended green lawn that  stretched way back to another body of water. It was an inlet from the Ct. River. Halfway back towards the water sat a large comfortable looking wooden gazebo where folks sat to get out of the sun and chat in the round. Closer to us were half a dozen empty stalls that on other occasions are filled with produce for the weekly Farmers Market.

Paul was sporting a green cap with two lines of lettering " Submarine Service- WWII Veteran ". He has lived in Essex for some thirty five years. Paul told us of the events of the day. There had been a parade down Main Street featuring three different fife and drum corps marchers. The Garden Society had until 2:00 P.M. occupied those stalls with flowers and plants for sale. It was a once a year event. 

(to be continued) See next article "Paul of Essex: Redux"