The Hebronian December 2008 Page 1 Volume 7, Issue 3 ... - Gulemo

“They don’t make town’s like that anymore!” This is typical of the e-
mail comments I enjoy from readers of my website who are hopefully
treated by recollections of what it was like to live over 40 years ago in
the rural section of Hebron called “Gilead.” Throughout those 40 years
of raising a family away from my hometown, it was always a treat for
me to frequently re-visit Hebron and Gilead with my kids and point
out over and over again the places, and tell over and over again, the
stories of that special place where I grew up in a family of five kids—on
a 400 acre dairy farm yet. At the time, I could only entertain visions
of extricating myself from a small town to an urban place of exciting
city life—away from farms and country folk with country ways I could
not fully appreciate. In the summers I rode the tractor around the hay
fields (and let me tell you it was a different experience from driving
tractors today) dreaming of someday having an office in a busy place
and wearing a suit and tie to work every day. I learned the meaning
of “Be careful for what you ask—you may get it!” and I did.
At Left: With Ronald Miner Hughes, Jason Castonguay, concert pianist &
vocalist and family friend.
At Right: sister Betty Miner Cordani (center); Nephew Michael Cordani
(left); and Brother-in-law Bruno Cordani (right) at their Gilead home of
over 50 years.
BILL BENDER
WALLCOVERING CONTRACTOR
Wallcovering installations
Interior painting
Wallpaper removal
Plaster and sheetrock repair
Residential ~ Commercial
Quality and Integrity since 1977
860-228-3974
The Hebronian December 2008 Page 24
HOME AGAIN IN GILEAD—After over 40 years!
by Ronald Miner Hughes
Years later, for many years I
got my fill of office, suit and
tie, and all that goes with it.
However, those colleagues and
patients who visited any of my
offices would always inquire
about my pictures and trinkets
of cows, and farms and, of
course, had no idea what they
were in for when they asked.
The tables had turned—there
I was, at one point with 2 offices
at the same time, dealing
with meetings, telephone calls,
3 rd Pay phone number installed
in Hebron at the “old” RHAM High
in 1957. The first was at Hebron
Elementary School and the 2 nd at
Frank & Marion’s Grocery Store.
deadlines, consultations, presentations, projects—with suit and tie and
secretaries, to boot—but this time, dreaming of living in the country,
near the cows and farms, and woods, and the likes. And now, after
well over 40 years, I’ve come full circle and am delightfully, home
again—not in just a small town, but the hometown where the memories
were and are. But, now, I’m almost the stranger in town—to most,
anyway. As I talk with my classmates (none left in town), who still
hold Hebron close to heart, we say, “Who are these people living in our
town They don’t know about all the things that once were—but yet,
they say, “Welcome to our town.” Then they say after my response,
“Welcome back!” And, of course, I say, “It’s great to be back!” And I
think, “Oh, there are so many wonderful things I remember. I wonder
if they’d like to know about these wonderful stories of half a century
ago. Then, to my delight, I see, “Ah, they do!” I discover all these
“new” people are interested and have gleaned from those still around
from yesteryear, for lack of a better word, a “delicious” collection of
not only 40 or 50 years—but 300 years and are celebrating it. What
a wonderful time to have come back home. Can you imagine—and
I know you can, what it’s like for your grandchild to say, “Grampy—
show me the cows,” and I do.
I wonder still, “Will people want to know
what it was like to have dances at the Grange
Hall, and have Christmas Caroling on hayrides,
and ice skating on Way’s pond Will
people want to know what it was like to listen
carefully when your party line phone rang to
know if it would be a double ring to indicate
it was for you—or would it turn out to be one
long and one short for Bob Warner’s house,
or 3 short for Homer Hills’s house—or one
long for Mr. and Mrs. Way’s house Does
anyone care that their telephone numbers
at that time were 3-0152 for the Warners,
3-3623 for the Hills, or 3-4426 for the Way’s
Will anyone care that in the 1950’s when
we lived in Gilead, we had a Willimantic
telephone number, and an Andover mailing
address Will anyone care that Billy Hills
was our postmaster and he knew everyone by
first name and there were no street numbers
Will anyone care that my Dad, Ralph Miner,
had to call ACademy 8-3146 to ask Doug or
Mary Porter for a permit to burn trash Will
E-mail your news to: hebronian@gulemo.com