The Things I Do Remember, Part 2 - New Haven, CT

Another photo is from a year later. It’s a black & white taken from the bottom of a very long, narrow staircase. The view looked steeply upward into a dimly lit void. I think we were in New Haven, Connecticut. Dad was then at Yale University, and still teaching for the military. It was probably our apartment building. There were two doors facing each other at the top, one on each side of the hall. There may have been more doors further along but I have no memory of any. I can remember standing alone at the top, anxious because I did not know the one to our place. Inside the apartment I could look out a window and down into a deep pit. The view was into a small courtyard. I could see a small grassy area hemmed in by four white walls. There was no way in or out. It scared me to think of being down there - trapped. How could I ever escape should the unthinkable happen? I think I went to that window frequently, fascinated by the sight, and then one day I saw a man down there with a garden hose.


There was a guy named Porge. I don’t know if that was his last name or a nick name. He was a student of Dad’s, and must have been rich for he had a large estate outside of New Haven at which he gave big parties. We went to several during our year in New Haven. It was a big place and there was always a lot of people, many in uniform. I don’t remember much more than that, but he had a round swimming pool with a sandy bottom. It might have been fed by a stream, because one day when I was in the pool something big came out of the inlet, and swam across the surface, exiting on the opposite side. I did not have any idea what it was but it had a lot of legs and looked menacing. I got out of the pool shortly thereafter and refused to go back.

There were some other fragmentary memories; a sailor with a rifle standing near a really giant anchor in front of an important looking building; the sight, on our kitchen table, of a sea star lying on its back, with its tube feet exposed. We were a bunch of flat-land foreigners, ignorant about the sea, and fearing a little, harmless, sea star. The four of us stood at a respectful distance, gawking at the alien creature that could not sting, but we did not know it.

Sometime during the year in Connecticut we took a train trip. There is no one any longer to ask about the trip, so I don’t know much other than it was during that year. I have a feeling it may have occurred when we were going to Connecticut. Dad might have already gone, and Mom, Don and I were joining him later. I have little memory of it save two frightful events. There was a metal plate covering the coupling between cars. It was constantly vibrating. Its shifting and bouncing was treacherous and I was hesitant about stepping onto it. An adult could probably span the distance in one long step, but I was little and my legs were short. Would I lose my footing? Would I be vibrated off the train? I don’t remember if I ever crossed it. Later I was sitting looking out the window. We were going through beautifully hilly country, a type I had never seen before. The train suddenly passed over a great void. There was nothing under us, and I looked down into a chasm to the forest floor hundreds of feet below. I know now we were crossing a train trestle, and we crossed others and some of them I must has seen as we approached on curves. I could not conceive how such a heavy thing as a train could be supported. I expected us to plunge to the bottom at each crossing. I was stoic. I never cried or said anything. I waited for the end that was sure to come.

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