Bigger doesn’t necessarily mean better. Good things come in small packages. The second-smallest city in acreage in Connecticut is none other than the Whaling City, New London. For those curious, the smallest is Derby. What does New London have in common with Derby? Nothing but size.
New London has nothing in common with anywhere else, not even old London. New London is a cosmos of its own. New London has its own gravitational pull. Some people get sucked into its little vortex, swallowed by forces beyond their control. In New London, men and women are created in God’s image.
New London is more than a mote in God’s eye. It cannot fit through the eye of a needle, but it is the closest thing this world will see to the Gates of Heaven. Atop Heaven’s Gate is a pearly marble seal carved with a three-masted ship tacking toward port. A banner above reads, “Mare Liberum.” A squad of cherubs is dispatched to dust the carving every day.
New London is wee. It is so seemingly unimportant that it doesn’t appear on some maps. Some cartographers sleep through class. To earn a Doctorate of Cartography, The American Academy of Professional Cartographers has decreed that diplomates must complete three semester hours studying the longitude and latitude of New London, Conn. Herbert Fennel was the Academy President in 1938. He learned that his birthplace wasn’t included on every map. He decreed a new rule and it has stuck over the intervening decades.
Strange things happen in New London. There is a ghost at the Polish Club. Find out here.
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