Commentary—

A Love Letter To Newtown

By Sharon Cole Hudson

Where do I begin... I guess at the beginning.

I moved to West Street, still a dirt road at the time,  when I was 7 years old. I was an only child of a somewhat neurotic writer from New York. Being an only child, I spent endless days in the cow pastures, which were right across the street from my house. I sang songs to the cows, caught pollywogs in the streams, played in the forbidden barns down the street at Boyson’s dairy farm, laid in the tall grasses in the meadows, watching the clouds float by. Did I know then what an idyllic childhood I was having?

As I got older, I remember walking all over town, with and without friends, going to the movies every Saturday afternoon at the town hall — I think it was 25 cents then — of course that was after going to the general store to buy Sugar Daddy’s and M&Ms to last me through a good western. Going to the opening of the Grand Union, swimming all summer at the pond, ice skating on frozen lakes in winter. Could I have had a more perfect place to grow up, I think not!

Then, sadly, the day came when I was almost 14, that my parents announced we were moving to California. What?! My little world came crashing down.

So, in 1962, we packed up the yellow station wagon, and headed across country. As we drove through Newtown for the last time, I remember looking out the window of the car, watching the scenery go by, thinking this is the last time I will be seeing this beautiful place... How sad was I.

To make a long story short, we moved to Glendale, Calif., where it never felt like home again. It’s true, you can take the girl out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the girl. No more trees to climb, fireflies to catch, meadows to stroll in, no more Main Street, with the quaint colonial houses to look at. Sadly, I had moved to Hell!

Of course, people adapt over time, but Newtown was never far from my mind. Always longing to go back, I finally made it 53 years later. (Better late, then never, I say)

It was in December, after a lovely snow fall, with my grown daughter in tow. It was as if I had never left, I was overwhelmed with joy! Walking down Main Street feeling almost like time stood still, looking just the way my 14-year-old mind remembered. You can come home again!

I visited all my favorite places, which really had not changed much in all that time. My old house looked exactly the same, Castle Hill Road, where I used to ride my bike down in sheer terror, still has the best views around. Sadly, no more cow pastures, but still that peaceful atmosphere that I love so much. How joyous I was!

I could go on, and on, but my message is, don’t ever take your lovely town for granted; in a perfect world I would move back there in a heartbeat, but sadly, my life and my family are here now. But the little town I grew up in is part of me forever, and always in my heart.

(Sharon Cole Hudson lives in Glendale, Calif.)