Chronicles JULY 2019 COUNCIL
W hen you think about people who relocate for the summers, what comes to mind? If the image in your head resembles a retiree heading back home to spend the summer with their family after escaping the cold in Florida, I don’t blame you. There’s even a term for a person who escapes the cold confines of the Northern states for the warm Southern sun during the winter: a snowbird. I guess you could say my childhood migratory pattern was just the opposite. Rather than flying south for the winter, my brother and I spent our summers flying north. We’d stay with family members in Connecticut and experience a total change of pace between school years. At the time, I thought our months in the Constitution State were a blast. Today, I hold them in even higher esteem. Looking back on it now, those voyages were probably where I contracted the travel bug I still have today. What I remember most was just how different Connecticut was from South Carolina, where I grew up. The Northern and Southern states move at different paces, and the people have different personalities. Spending the summers about 1,000 miles from PERSONALITIES. SPENDING THE SUMMERS ABOUT 1,000 MILES FROM HOME WAS THE BEST KIND OF CULTURE SHOCK.” THE NORTHERN AND SOUTHERN STATES MOVE AT DIFFERENT PACES, AND THE PEOPLE HAVE DIFFERENT
MEMORIES OF OUR TRIPS TO CONNECTICUT
home was the best kind of culture shock. I had the chance to see an entirely different part of the country, meet new friends, and build a strong bond with my extended family. Every year, I’d complain about having to leave my friends for the summer, but I’d forget about my complaints upon arriving to my seasonal surroundings. from Beardsley Park, so my brother and I spent countless afternoons playing and fishing there. It was an ideal place for two kids with no schoolwork to keep busy. We were never bored because there was always something to do. Whether we were out playing or at home reading books, we had each other, family, and what we’d call our “summer friends” for company. One summer tradition was the ice cream cones my brother and I would eat every day. Our Aunt Eva would give us each $1.25, always in quarters, to head over to Carvel for a sweet treat. (Those of you who grew up in New England probably have fond memories of Carvel ice cream cakes.) We did this so often that I can even remember our exact regular order: I would get vanilla with rainbow sprinkles, and my brother would get chocolate with chocolate sprinkles. We were like two adults with a “usual” at the local diner. My family lived in Bridgeport, a small seaside city. My aunts lived directly across the street
creative. We’d talk about options and
ask questions about flavors before settling on our old standbys. Kevin, the kid whose summer job was working
at Carvel, never seemed to get impatient with us, even though I’m sure he thought, “Oh, these two again,” whenever we
walked through the door. I don’t know what happened to Kevin, but I’m willing to bet his exceptional customer service skills served him well long into adulthood. Those annual trips to Connecticut didn’t seem like a huge deal at the time; they were just our yearly routine. However, I can’t help but think of them as a formative experience that helped make me who I am today. To this day, I love meeting people from other places and exploring those places for myself. My first taste of cultural exchange came from those trips up North. I’m forever grateful for them.
–Lashonda Council- Rogers, Esq.
Despite the fact that we always ordered the same items, we had plans to be a little more
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