Where do I begin? I am so behind in documenting my adventures “to remember and to share,” in fact going back to mid-2023. But, a little plaque that has been on my desk for over five decades says, “THE BEST WAY TO GET SOMETHING DONE – IS TO BEGIN.” So, here goes, at least from well over a week ago, and hopefully working back since I have some great adventures photographed and documented to share for your enjoyment and possibly doing yourself.

I live in the present, and not in the past — but sometimes it is nice to revisit the past and the memories. I was last in my hometown three years ago – A TRIP TO WILTON, CONNECTICUT – 15-16 OCTOBER 2021 – for a memorial service, but now a more joyous and reflective time – a high school reunion (the title may give an idea of the time that has passed). As you will see, I re-experienced a great deal and my TIMING WAS PERFECT to complete the cycle. Of a class of about 143 (if I remember correctly) about 22 of us said we would come. Hey, I am alive and (I think) look good – so I had to go, and an excuse to re-explore. I drove south on Friday October 18th for the reception that evening. The next event was dinner on Saturday, so off I was to explore and “relive.”

This writing will be reflective, and give you insight to “what makes Ray tick” and do what he does. You may know that books are a big part of my life (a very big part). I first haunted antique shops while riding my bicycle on my favorite US Route 7 (almost before there were cars on it – at least not the traffic of today). And, yes I bought books. Starting in 7th grade I had the opportunity to start working in the town library shelving books. I also was offered a spot on the 7th grade basketball team. “But, coach,” I exclaimed, “I will be working and miss some practices due to my job.” “You have to make a choice young man,” he replied. Yes, books over basketball, and $1.50 for one and a half-hours work after school two nights a week. Of course I have all my records to substantiate my library choice.

Done work I would wait for my Dad to pick me up in Wilton Center (retail now relocated further south). I sat here on this stone wall waiting for him. On the left used to be the entrance to the Village Market where my teddy’s bear’s head fell off when I was maybe five.

The main retail was in the Barringer Block (built in 1936) to my right from where I sat. I would stop in Stiver’s Drug Store (in the space on the left) to check out the 10 cent comics and treat myself to two nickel rolls of Lifesavers – I would get Butterscotch and Peppermint to savor together.

Above — Two doors to the right was Boyd’s Toys and Stationery (yes, several purchases over the years). Two more doors down a bank (I got Savings Passbook Number 2 – yes of course still have it). Two left windows on second floor was my dentist.

Below looking up from my perch on the stone wall watching for my Dad come down the hill. Building on right was post office — where from age six on I would buy commemorative stamps to collect. Later a shopping area was built behind and below – post office moved there, and I followed.

And, I previously shared Center School where I was interned for Kindergarten through 4th grade. Now offices, the right side (which included the offices where my mother worked as school secretary) was removed ages ago as driveways were changed over the years. Clearer maybe in the rear view.

I have an uncanny knack (often) for timing — and Saturday and Sunday were perfect for me – I also got over the reticence of knocking on doors unannounced. Driving up Nod Hill Road, below is the old farmhouse (with large new addition to the rear) that my grandparents bought in 1926. Barn was across the street, and close to 200 acres – but that is another story. Until my Dad built our house in 1948-49, I lived in the barn in the summer, and this house in the winter. Saving you some reading time, ask me sometime about the porch and what my grandmother did when they staked out where to put in polls for telephone and power.

I have driven by the home my Dad built on 15 Partrick Lane in 1948-49 many times over the years on land my grandparents bought. I stopped this time, and knocked only disturbing the dog. I then drove to the end of the road. What my Dad built is the small part on the left with the gable facing out, and a separate two car garage.

I continued on to Boas Lane that my grandmother developed, and took yet another image of Vanity Plate and Sign.

And, for the first time I drove down the drive at the end to the family barn my grandmother moved a good distance when she opened this land. Knocking on the door, no one answered, but I left a note asking if they would like pictures I took when the barn was moved, maybe 1957 or 58. (after a week or so, the owner, Sam Halsey, called me. He (age 91) and his wife are still in the “barn” having purchased from my grandmother over 60 years ago.

driving back there was a fellow walking. He built one of the homes on my family’s land. We shared stories and history — so many things I may be the only one who knows, so I have to share. BUT – going back down the slight hill on Partrick Lane where I rode my soap-box racers there was a fellow in my old drive — I STOPPED – Ross and I chatted, and chatted. He was a friend of the new owners, and I shared and shared, he promising to share with the owners, who later emailed me. With him I went to one of my FORTS — the land level had been raised (almost three feet), probably in a septic field rebuilding. More of the rocks were exposed 70 years ago keeping me safe during Indian attacks. I usually won – well, I am still here.

below is where the family barn was originally located across Nod Hill Road from the farmhouse. As I recall my Dad told me he either built or restored the well house. Barn was to the left – tall pine I do remember being big 70 years ago – bigger trunk now.

three years ago I also shared my bus stops where I waited. Roads widened now, some rocks where I sat removed – did I say I do not like change? – Remember you can “click” my galleries for larger images.

and the house my Dad built on Nod Hill Road (AD) across from the entrance to Partrick Lane. Hidden mostly by trees now, my grandfather planted many acres of pines in the early 30s – killed by a blight in the 1970s. The garage you see is a recent addition.

It was probably this rock on Nod Hill Road that began my fascination with Glacial Erratics – not on our former land, but across the road from where my Dad built a pond for my Grandmother that two lots sat on. And, on the hill (probably smaller now than when I maybe 10) sat my “mica mine.”

Then, back down towards Wilton Center stopping at Hillside Cemetery on Ridgefield Road (Route 33) for the Boas plot with my grandparents and Dad.

and, back to the Norwalk Inn for the Saturday night dinner and celebration …you may recognize the fellow, third from the left.

this group shot was posted on the class’s Facebook page

A lovely evening, nice conversation, and period appropriate DJ. With no reunion plans for Sunday, I had plans of my own to work my way back north to New Preston – the former home of RAY BOAS, BOOKSELLER, and my late-bride, Cathy. But, first I stopped at the famous ELEPHANT’S TRUNK Flea Market in New Milford. I had a great time both evenings with my best high school friend, Phil and his wife. Learning they had a large booth there – my plan was to stop and see them, I sat with them, and did walk around some searching (yes six books were acquired). May I say, and I can, watching Phil and Pat chat with the crowd, and how they had things displayed and priced — they could give classes on how to be a successful flea marketeer.

Off I headed north on US Route 7 (I will tell you again and again sections are my favorite road in the US). Traveling in BELZEBUTH as a 16 and 17 year old (learn more about BELZEBUTH and her later siblings at — Welcome AUNTIE MYRTLE) I would stop at an old barn full of cars in Garlordsville, and swing over to a little antique shop. Under restoration I took a look at the old hotel in Merwinsville, alongside the railroad tracks of course.

Then back toward Route 7 passing this building with the antique shop, and the “monument” across the street. There used to be a sign on the building, but you may wish to click this link and read about Jan Pol’s SPITE HOUSE.

Did I say antique shop above? Yes, even as a 16 year old I bought what spoke to me — the below toy fire truck spoke to me – $4 in crayon still written on the back – yes, of course I have had it 62 years.

Driving north, Kent was packed with leaf-peepers, but I continued north towards Cornwall looking for a certain unmarked turn. Above you saw the farm house my grandfather, Ernest, bought in 1926. In 1927 his sister, Helene Yampolsky, bought remote property on a remote road. I remember as (guessing) a seven year old an exciting visit there, touring the house and outbuilding where Franz, Ernest and Helene’s father, had a study. The home had many, many items Franz brought back from his anthropological trips to British Columbia. I knew the road was somewhere near a fun Glacial Erratic, and there it was.

and, driving up the hill — there was the house. When Cathy and I were in New Preston and my Dad and Uncle visited we made a nostalgic trip. The home vacant, I took their picture under a tree they remembered as a stick decades ago. Cathy and I often drove up the hill so I could show her the house and reminisce wondering if it was still in the family, finding it always vacant.

and on the opposite side of the road is the garage/shed and studio on the lower level – ALAS there was a car parked there, I turned around pulled up to the house, and got out. A fellow obviously saw me and started walking out. I called out, “are you a Yampolsky?” He replied, “are you a Boas?” Those of you who know how to figure, he and I are what second cousins how many times removed? I remember my Dad talking about his cousins, guessing his grandparents. Oh my, a weekend of perfect timing continuing.

too much fun — we toured the house – exactly as I remembered it 70 years ago – I cannot believe it made that much of an impression. In chatting we realized we met 40 years ago on a Boas-Hunt reunion in Alert Bay, BC, Canada. Franz Boas worked with George Hunt over the years. We eventually went down to the studio/study Franz Boas used.

entering the door, exactly as I remembered it (but maybe my Dad and Uncle snuck in when we stopped). Just think, Franz may have sat in this chair.

great fun for both of us. Heading down the hill, I turned north, and yes, just on the bend was the Glacial Erratic I remembered as my marker.

I headed back down Route 7 to Bull’s Bridge, and turned left over the hills to New Preston – probably 23-24 years since on that fun hilly route. Plan was to check into the Hopkins Inn on Lake Waramaug where we had many a lunch on the patio overlooking the lake. The plan to next drive around the 600 acre plus lake that went over my waterfall at Ray Boas, Bookseller. And, then getting better at “dropping in” I hoped to see neighbors I had not seen in 20 years.

driving around the lake counterclockwise I saw the state park I stayed several times (BC – “Before Cathy” but she had stayed there more than 20 years before with her family – she served as outhouse inspector) when I started buying books in the area in 1991-1992 before taking space in a book co-op there. Gary joined me camping here once. And, below the campground and view of the lake from there.

I knocked on Ron and Libby’s door. Thrilled, we had a great visit. My former neighbors, now in their 80s, had not aged a bit. It was then around the corner to the former home and shop of RAY BOAS, BOOKSELLER, with much horticultural improvement by now owners Anne and Rich.

Cathy and I owned the waterfall and most of the “mill pond” the town owning the dam. Twenty-five years ago I recommended that the leaks in the dam be sealed using hydraulic cement as was used in the caissons building the Brooklyn Bridge. But, alas, what does a bookseller know about engineering, and no one listened to me, thus the current status below in the image on the right.

and, some views on the down river side of my former waterfall.

SHUNPIKING and BACK ROADING
EXPLORATION and THREADS THROUGHOUT MY LIFE

Growing up there was a large road map of Wilton on a basement wall above my Dad’s desk. One summer my mother decided we would explore each road. My friend Phil, who you met above, and I rallied sports cars in high school (well full disclosure we participated in VWs or his 1957 Ford – which we slid off the road once onto the left side and me in his lap). We explored back roads on those events, often with unique twists. And then I was out and about in BELZEBUTH exploring and even on camping trips through Maine, Vermont and New Hampshire (close to Walpole, but never “downtown”). One of those rallies we had to find clues in various rocky locations including an abandoned railroad tunnel from the Shepaug, Litchfield and Northern Railroad that ran through the now Steep Rock Park along the Shepaug River just miles from where Cathy and I lived. I CANNOT BELIEVE that during the seven years we lived there I did not re-explore the tunnel. After that one rally Phil and I drove back in BELZEBUTH – he remembered that trip and the large ice blocks in the tunnel. Here BELEZUTH wanted to go through.

FINALLY – over 60 years later I carefully drove along the small dirt road along the Shepaug River (RAB highly recommends a trip) to a parking lot (well dead end with room for a few cars to park) I looked around and found a small sign high on a tree pointing TUNNEL Off I carefully hiked soon getting to the entrance – terrain a tad different 60 plus years later – remember I drove here before.

Walking out the south end of the tunnel with the river right ahead

and then turning around

back to the north entrance

and back out — remember this “train roadbed” I drove on in 1962.

about to get dark and time to slide back to the Hopkins Inn for dinner. Maybe getting cooler, but for nostalgia I ate on the patio – memories kept me warm.

Not bad – only taking me 16 days to complete my “writing to remember” and now “to share.” I will be working back on sharing my adventures with you all the way back to sailing the St. Lawrence River summer 2023. Stay tuned for my notices or posts, or if seeing this for the first time “sign up” to get notices if you wish. Never an obligation to read, buy you may get an idea or two for your own adventure.

Thank you, stay well, luv, RAY