Cold War and a black spot on my Kleenex

I haven't written in quite some time. That's because every time I think about it, I come to the conclusion that I have nothing much to say.

But today was different. One exciting thing and one rather bizarre thing happened.

John went to Meriden yesterday to pick up the new pellet stove we bought on Friday. We couldn't bring it home on Friday because he's recuperating from a pretty successful atrial flutter ablation; one of the men at the shop was using crutches, because he'd had a spinal cord injury; and the other man had had three strokes. And I wasn't about to try lifting a 300-pound stove. Anyway, one of the shop guys told John that the rumor that there was an old Nike missile site in Mashomaset State Forest was true. So we took a ride through the forest to the Glastonbury edge of the woods.

This fellow had given John some rather vague directions, and we weren't able to find any of the landmarks he mentioned on the dirt road we usually take through the forest. So we looked at our Connecticut atlas and decided to try another road in.

The man had mentioned that there would be a bunch of chunks of concrete near a gate to a path off the dirt road. We finally found such a place and decided to go in.

One of the first things we found was two concrete slabs, parallel to each other and about eight feet apart, with curves in the center that would be perfect for holding the rather slender Nike missile as it is unloaded from a truck. John took a picture of me sitting in the center of the front slab:


If I look grim, well, you might understand why, at least if you remember the Cold War.

We then followed a path, some of which was paved, back a little ways into the woods. It was bordered by rusty barbed wire. On the way, we passed a couple of spots with what looked like eight-inch square linoleum tile on it. Finally we came to a large area with a slab of concrete, which had been covered by a hill of wood chips that seemed to have something else, possibly dirt, under it. There were heavy duty metal pipes that seemed to lead underground. At various spots around, there were more areas of tile, but no buildings were visible.

John took several pictures, but it was close to dark and cold, so we headed back. When I got home I read that there are several abandoned missile sites in Connecticut, including one on the Metacomet Trail in Farmington. The one in Glastonbury is noted as having all associated buildings razed. Suddenly I can't wait for spring!

Oh, but wait--I'm not done. Shortly after we got in the car to head home, the car heat thawed out my nose and I noticed it was tickling. I put my thumb in a tissue and reached in to scratch it and pulled out--a tick. A whole medical mystery plot came to mind.

All the way home, I was surreptitiously sticking Kleenex up my nose, endeavoring to make sure that Mrs. Tick had not brought her extended family with her. I think I'm going to be all right. I must be; I listed a new photo on eBay tonight. Here it is:



If you're interested in seeing the auction, you can click here. I'm cheap.

May