Michael Malone - Weebly

tarred rotary that circled the little town green. In its
center, a granite Elijah Dingley sat stiffly in his marble
chair, and in the stone arms of the statue snuggled Joy
Strummer, languidly reading a movie magazine in the
shade of a giant copper beech.
Elijah Dingley had founded the town on which he
imposed his name three hundred years ago, when he
banished himself from Providence, Rhode Island, in
disgust at the emotional displays of Roger Williams and
on his way to New York, got lost. Dingley Falls was in
Connecticut, east of the Hudson and west of Hartford,
in low mountains and beautifully situated on the
Rampage River, a branch of the Housatonic. Joy
Strummer was Polly's best friend.
"Joy!" she yelled as she flew past. Joy's little spaniel
jumped up and barked at her.
The pretty town of Dingley Falls was well-off and
white-framed with shutters. Dingleyans had watched the
riotous sixties on television and were happy to have
missed them. They were proud that in 1976, as all
around Great Societies puffed themselves up and blew
themselves away, here in Dingley Falls the true America