Keeping it Local (Cosmically Speaking, Of Course)

Photo from The Cosmic Omelet

I have often complained about life in small-town Connecticut. Perhaps it's purely white suburban boredom, bred out of privilege and inertia, but I've often lamented the place as a middle-class breeding ground for snobs and morons, to be blunt. (The strangest social phenomenon I've witnessed in my home state is the Connecticut Cowboy, which definitely requires some examination, probably at a later date.) But beyond these things, my home state practically has no claim to fame of its own, and a rather bland, if not downright forgettable, history. Connecticut is called Newyorkachusetts, for God's sake (fuck you, Dunkin' Donuts commercial). Just as a for instance, rather than "Birthplace of so-and-so" signs, houses in CT tend to have "so-and-so might have maybe stayed here for a night in 1773, but we can't be sure" plaques. Riveting!


Let's break it down a little further. Our state capital is a complete clusterfuck, to put it mildly. There are some really interesting, historic, and culturally significant attractions in Hartford, if you know where they are and how to find them. Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe lived there. The Old State House is very cool (there's a taxidermied two-headed goat - or calf - in there!). And of course there's the newly completed Connecticut Science Center, which I have yet to fully explore, but definitely is a fantastic piece of architecture and innovation. Beyond that, it's very family friendly, as opposed to my usual hang-outs in Hartford (the type that tend to serve adult beverages. ahem). The Wadsworth Atheneum houses some truly amazing pieces of art. Alexander Calder, the very odd and interesting dude who invented the mobile and the stabile, was a Connecticut native, and some of his enormous sculptures are on display there (the Stegosaurus, for example, is in the courtyard there). There are Dalí originals - and Van Goghs! There are even Frank Lloyd Wright pieces, scattered among some of the prettiest pieces of furniture and art you never knew Connecticut housed. Plus, the Wadsworth hosts cocktail nights and parties. You can rent it for events. And you can certainly spend days of your life there, if you're an art lover, that is. 


Now all of this seems very well and good, except Hartford is such a bastardized city, you have trouble getting from point A to point B without killing yourself or someone else. Back in the '50s, some wench with the last name Fox wanted all the highways (I-91 and I-84) redirected to drop all travelers into the city of Hartford pretty much at the doorstep of her department store (G. Fox & Co.). Now, not to bitch too much about G. Fox & Co. -- as they were quite the retail powerhouse in New England for a long time -- but this commercial power meant that legislators were all for completely screwing the traffic and beauty of Hartford in the name of the almighty dollar. Driving through parts of Hartford now, you can see it was once a really beautiful city. Not so much these days; especially since there are some severely economically depressed sections of the city, rife with violence and crime. And this economic depression is not new as per the recession; Hartford has been like this for years. The public schools there have been in crisis for as long as I can remember. And most folks know that there are some parts of the city you just do not go. And even some of the less dangerous areas have their issues. My friend Smith owns a (very nice!) condo about a three minute walk up from the train station. A few years ago, a young man was shot behind his building. Great.


And that's just Hartford! Connecticut has a claim to "fame" (I use that word with as much snarkiness as I can muster) as the wealthiest state in the Union. Fantastic! Pat yourselves on the back, Greenwich-dwelling zillionaires. Connecticut also has the largest discrepancy between wealthy and poor. We are in a budget crisis (like the rest of the nation), and are rapidly losing industry (like the rest of the nation). Connecticut is still home to some industrial (aerospace!) powerhouses, but let's be honest, they aren't what they used to be. Competition from overseas and the stripping of the American economy through outsourcing has left my home state in the same position it really has always been - a large bedroom community for New York and Boston. 


But being funemployed and essentially stuck in Connecticut (yay for living at home!), I've gained a new appreciation for the place. Everyone says that New Haven is where-it's-at - all the cool clubs and restaurants for the hipster/student are supposedly there. (Yalies make me want to regurgitate last night's stir fry, so I just ignore that sentiment entirely. New Haven is like New York's dingleberry, so enough of that. Though I do hold a special place in my heart for Toad's Place.) Regardless of my inexplicable hostility toward New Haven, I do kind of have a newfound love for Connecticut.


It's the small businesses and restaurants that really helped me realize how much I like my home state. I'm no gourmet, I couldn't even consider myself a foodie, but I do like to eat and drink. And the little restaurants that Connecticut is home to make the gluttonous life easy to live. Take the Bidwell, for instance. I've already lauded their wings (which are so damn good, I routinely eat too many of and I get sick, and come back for more time and again), but the tavern has some serious history. It was the Coventry town hall for years, built in 1822. The staff is friendly (CT is not exactly known for friendliness, by the way) and quick. The food is good, the music is fun, and there are more types of beer on tap than I can even list (which is impressive, I know my beer!).


Manchester is one of my favorite towns, despite having a somewhat economically checkered population (I love Mancunians, don't get me wrong). The Cosmic Omelet is there, and it's definitely my favorite breakfast spot in all the world. It's owned by a very cool young woman named Tracy who developed a dingy old café into a dining powerhouse, full of quirky charm and amazing three-egg omelets. If you've never been there, it's worth the trip - and the wait (on the weekends and most early mornings). Sure, it seems to be a bit of a greasy spoon, but you will be happily stuffed by the end of your meal. Plus, the staff is great, the coffee is endless, and the music spans everything from A-Ha to the Zombies. (Also, the Cosmic Omelet is what inspired me to write this post, hence the photo up top.) 


Manchester is also home to Corey's Catsup and Mustard, a bar with live music most nights where you can get absolutely killer burgers and meet some very lovely folks. Sukhothai is home to the best Thai food I've had this side of the Atlantic, and it's affordable and plentiful! The truth is, it's places like this which can help keep the state in business, so to speak; we don't have much industry, so we need small businesses in order to keep on keepin' on, as it were. And regardless of my own waning finances, I never, ever, regret giving these unsung holes-in-the-wall my custom. 


And what's more, Connecticut is beautiful. If you get past the weirdly assembled cities and towns, and have the ability to overlook the fact that a double-wide might be plopped right next door to a multi-million dollar estate in the Quiet Corner (gag), you'll discover that CT has managed to retain a lot of open and preserved space. I love hiking on Case Mountain and through Gay City State Park. We have mountains (okay, they're old, so they're really glorified hills, but whatever) and rivers, forests and beaches. Mystic is home to some tasty pizza, an aquarium, and an historic seaport (plus outlet shopping, if you're into that kind of thing).


I started to notice the pastoral (yes, pastoral) beauty of Connecticut recently as I for the first time rode on a motorcycle. Adam has a cruiser, and despite my mother's best warnings, I still love riding behind him on it. (Okay, so maybe one of my favorite things to do on the back of his bike is to be "Disapproving Passenger" and give the evil eyes to people in cars I catch texting while driving, but that's another matter altogether. I get out my "angry eyes" à la Mrs. Potatohead. It's quite effective, as I wear a full-face helmet, and I shame those texters into putting away their phones, at least for a short while.) But riding a motorcycle opens your view and experience of the world around you in a new way. You see, hear, and smell more. Yes, smell. Trust me, we went through Ellington, rife with (or should I say ripe with?) its cattle and dairy farms. Connecticut is pretty gorgeous, regardless of the time of year. (Except the brown-grey of the February thaw. That's just nasty.)


I never wanted to stay in Connecticut, and part of me still wants to get the hell out, but I have definitely found reasons to love the place. And after all, I am pretty goddamned privileged to have grown up here. I will still rail against the nouveau riche and upper-middle-class in the state who tend to think solely of material things and their bottom line, without a care for anyone else. (Yes, I have a tendency to be painfully classist proletariat, get over it.) And I'll complain that "there's nothing to do." I will still roll my eyes at the strip malls and cineplexes. And anyone form CT will tell you that the 91/95 merge is the worst stretch of highway possibly ever. (Honestly, it could be 2 a.m. and that damn thing will still be backed up for miles.)


But the truth is, Connecticut isn't half bad. In fact, it's half badass. But only half.


P.S. Happy Earth Day!