Recently I put a blog together titled ‘Critters,’ where I mentioned the wild life in and around our neighborhood. Well, on to wild life of the insect variety. My neighbor who is an older lady of South American origin, was recently chasing a fly around her kitchen with a fly swat and in the course of this endeavor, which everyone can relate to, she slipped and broke her hip. It’s mind boggling how a little thing like a fly can cause such a major health issue. Her husband was philosophical saying “we’re just lucky that she did not fall and hit her head”. Well, er, yes.

On the subject of neighbors; one of the pleasurable things about coming home is the general pattern of my existence here in Connecticut. During the day, I’ll usually take a break from the business of running the band, jump in the Jeep and tool around my usual haunts. I’ll stop in at the Georgetown Post Office and check my PO Box. There, I’ll see my friendly, wacky, post office lady who, I’ll either be in the mood for or, I’ll think ‘Oh no”. See, she marks every public holiday with some kind of festive clothing reference. For example if it’s Easter, she’ll have on the Easter Bunny ears. If it’s Christmas, like last year, she’ll be wearing a set of reindeer horns complete with blinking fairy lights. St. Paddy’s Day will see her resplendent in green, wearing a head band, complete with bouncy shamrocks dangling therefrom. The tough decision, when confronted by all of this is that you are thrown into a quandary as to whether you should comment on all of it or simply carry on your business, ignoring this clown - like display, while purchasing a book of stamps.

If I go to the bank, there is a wonderful cuddly, black lady by the name of Althea, with a deep belly laugh, who over the years, has despaired of my banking practices. I’m regarded as a sort of absent - minded ‘artsy type’ and this suits me fine, since I find it impossible to manage a checking account. She’ll call me up and start the conversation with that big belly laugh of hers and it’ll be “Mr. Powell...about your account..”. But let me ask YOU, when have you recently had a bank manager or any bank employee call you and actually look out for your account? It just doesn’t happen. Mostly, if you screw up, the computer that masquerades as an actual human, gouges you for fees and will possibly suspend your banking activities for months. Not so in Georgetown. Another one of the bank’s ‘artsy’ clients was the redoubtable Mary Travers, of Peter, Paul and Mary. Sadly, she passed away last year but she kept her vigor, right up until her passing. She was legendary in the town, where she championed all kinds of causes.

In fact our town, Redding, it seems, is run by women. (Georgetown is the ‘town’ next to ours and has at least some basic facilities). Our First Selectman has the very rock & roll name of Mary Anne Guitar. That alone is a reason for living here. Mary and her crew oversee the land trust which has protected the land in Redding, including the former estate of Mark Twain, Stormfields, for many a year. The land here looks pretty much the same as it has done for the last 400 years or so - carefully keeping out all the signs of modern America, strip malls, burger joints and so on.

Then there are the varying other film and stage personalities that live in and around here. The actor Christopher Plumber, (Captain Von Trapp) from the Sound of Music, can often be seen sporting a fetching line in nylon sweat suits as he selects his wine, of a night, from the local liquor mart. The Man from Uncle, (here’s the best TV name) Napoleon Solo (real name Robert Vaughn) - does his shopping at the local Stop and Shop. He also likes those polyester sweat suits. I always get a kick out of seeing him load groceries into the boot of his old Rolls Royce. Judy Collins is often seen around town and once in a while Dustin Hoffman puts in an appearance. Then there’s Keith Richards, who very appropriately owns a house in a nature reserve called Devil’s Den. He can often be seen hanging out in the local French restaurant which he co owns. Talking of food, Meatloaf used to live in town but he and his family high tailed it to LA where he got into TV and movies. I always wondered what happened to Millicent Martin - British TV watchers will remember her from the 60’s . Well, you guessed it. She’s here.

So, I guess I fit right in, although of course there is never any direct contact with any of these folks because the very reason they wish to be in the sticks, is for privacy. Can you imagine Millicent inviting Keith over for a joint and a cuppa? It could happen. Maybe Meatloaf hung out with Mary Travers back in the day, teaching her Bat Out Of Hell. I can see it all now.

Ta ta ~ A.P.

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