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| It's New London, baby. Mare liberum!! |
New London, Connecticut is a city that knows no rival, It is Connecticut’s Whaling City. It is a good fishing place off the west bank of Connecticut’s Thames River, where the shad and the alewives run thick with the eels, in season. It is a city built on a foundation of spermaceti and spunk. Like a plate of spaghetti, there is no way to separate all the tangled, slippery propositions in New London’s try pot.
New London, Connecticut is hygienic. New London, Connecticut is pure and clean. East New London is to the north of the city’s center. Powder Island is made of granite and generations of guano sedimented in tall tales close to the waterline. A charter sapling grows on Powder Island, strong from resisting the breeze off the south. There are few ledges in New London, Connecticut, and there are plenty of lights.
Just under the Goldstar Bridge Overpass (JUGBO), on Central Avenue, in New London, Connecticut, life unfolds with the same graceful splash that reigns over the whole city. Husbands love their wives on Adelaide Street. Husbands love their husbands on West Street. Wives love their wives on Hempstead Street. Parents love their children on
Jefferson Avenue, and children love their parents back on Ocean Avenue. There is no elegy in New London, Connecticut, aside from its own, unique song. More dollars are spent than are owed.
New London, Connecticut is a small city, and it is a very hip city. It has chosen to stay true to its flukes. New London, Connecticut is a coquette. The city is flirtatious. It entertains offers, while stretching its muscles in an aura. New London, Connecticut is for lovers.
If anything is true in New London, Connecticut, it is that you never know what tomorrow will bring. If you get turned around in New London, Connecticut, you will always find your way. Head toward the ebb and flow of Connecticut’s Thames River. Breath the New London air.
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| They should be riding motor scootes. |
Life in New London, Connecticut is opera without soft soap. Life in New London is good. Life in New London is better. Life in New London, Connecticut is a healthy salt bath in sack cloth and garters. A day in New London, Connecticut is like a day at a health spa. Nothing relaxes like an hour walking Bank Street in New London, Connecticut.
New London is elegant. New London is beautiful. New London is for lovers. New London soars as high as the halo over the Mohican Hotel after midnight. New London is a clam midden layered with spilled oil. New London has a long tail. When you expect the worst...POP!...everything is better than before. That is the way things work in New London, Connecticut.
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| Is that California Fruit, or is it the regular kind? There is an old song that was popular in the Gay Nineties. It was called, “I’ll Never Forget My First Old New London Gal.” It was popular on the vaudeville circuit, but mostly sailors sung it while they were climbing the mizzen heads on the lookout for leviathans. Some nights, at 2:00 AM, after the Dutch Tavern is locked up for the night, the bartender will sing “I’ll Never Forget My First Old New London Gal,” while he mops under the card tables. |
Nobody ever forgets their first day in New London, Connecticut, and no one forgets their last day...unless they die in New London, Connecticut. In that case, they are in heaven. Nobody forgets New London, Connecticut for long. Every poison has its antidote. If a spermatozoa were as large as a whale, it would be as large as New London’s heart. That measures out to be a filament more than five square miles and miles and miles of heart.
Lamplighter of the World, New London, Connecticut is a place better lived than learned. Whatever you read between these lines is but a rainbow on a puddle compared to the slippery slope up Town Hill past the courthouse on a December night when the sleet is blowing fast off Long Island Sound. The foghorn blows at Pequot Light. Fort Trumbull will withstand the test of time. Neither slings nor bullocks will bruise a city in which love is the common coin, like pennies from Heaven.
Kanesha Murphy kisses her daughter goodnight on Vauxhall Street. Otis Shear says his prayers with his son on Ashcraft Road. A modern remix of Sinatra is on the radio. A third-class loblolly boy from 1898 could get off the train at the foot of State Street today and know exactly where he is. New London, Connecticut is eternal. New London, Connecticut is for lovers. New London, Connecticut is where it is at.
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| A Five-Star Whale Production.! |
Lamplighter of the World, New London is for lovers. There are no rivals when all is fair in love and peace. There are no enemies when everyone is a neighbor. Fellow-citizens work together. Fellow-citizens make good neighbors. New London is for lovers. New London is where it is at. Home is where the heart is. New London, Connecticut is a fertile garden where flowers bloom like spume.
