New London is a special place. In 1943, my great grandparents purchased a house one block from the beach in New London, Connecticut. At the time, it was a summer getaway from West Hartford. Over the years, the beach house has become a hang out for my whole extended family – grandparents, great aunts and uncles, first and second cousins, first and second cousins once removed, and a revolving cast of friends. It’s the same brisket-eating crowd I talked about earlier.
Even though my immediate family only went to New London once or twice a summer, I have collected a trove of memories I will always cherish. Continue reading