As I roll away about a half century of memories, I still visualize the day I came home to 69 Perry Drive, New Milford, and saw Mrs. Hibbard’s blue car parked in our sloped driveway. The car wasn’t anything fancy, in fact, it looked a little old to me. It was probably a Ford Galaxy or something like that, just a plain practical four-door car. Practical like a rural New England woman born in 1924 would have been.
After all, having survived the Great Depression, endured brutal winters, and witnessed a world war, the owner of that blue car was probably the type of woman who worked hard, occasionally did without, and made things last. If her family hadn’t done so themselves, I’m sure she would have known families who had farmed Connecticut’s rocky soil.