It's Time to Move On

It's cliche to say that all good things must come to an end. I have a hard time looking back over the past ten months of my adventures and writing them off as simply "coming to an end." And though this will be my final blog post on this blog, this journal celebrating the trials and tribulations of my gap year, I cannot close with a sorrowful tone. Yes, the school year is over (congratulations to all of my friends who graduated last weekend), and yes, I am home from the third planned phase of my year off, but as I've raced around Williamstown the past week or so attempting to prepare for what lies ahead, I've experienced no feelings of letdown. My gap year may be over based on the calendar, but I don't feel as if anything has ended--I only feel more ready to move on to the next chapter.

Back home on Lake Champlain

Today, in a few hours, I will report to 126 Camp Dudley Road. I will walk through the main gates, give big hugs that say "I've missed you," and meander down to Williams Cabin, my home for Summer 2013. We'll all be busy. This stellar crew of leaders and staff gracing the Dudley campus today has ten days to prepare for the start of camp. I know we'll be ready when the campers arrive next Tuesday.

There will be time for reminiscing--time to collect all of our individual stories from the offseason and pool them together in joy of reconvened friendship. But sooner than I care to realize, my tales of adventure from my gap year will have to settle themselves in a small corner of my cabin. They will always be there for when I need them, but for now, they'll have to take a backseat to the new memories we'll create this summer. I do know, however, that I have a better place than a dark corner to keep my stories--I have this blog. 

And that's the cool part. How cool it's been that I got to live in Germany, tuning my soccer skills as I tuned my ears to the rough vernacular of a beautiful people. How cool it's been that I was able to visit Dudley friends at college campuses all over the east coast, rekindling the Dudley spirit far from the campus here on Lake Champlain. How cool it's been that I got to spend sunny spring days outside on the golf course--and get paid to do so! And how cool it's been that I woke up every morning and asked myself, "What do I want to do today?" 

Every day I think back to some segment of my year and remember something new. I've discovered so much for myself that as I look back, remembering forgotten instances is almost like seeing them for the first time. I'm always filled with excitement when I think about my adventures. I just attempted to sum up my year in four sentences, but I'm not concerned whether or not I hit on all of the right points. The coolest thing for me is knowing that in this blog, I have an encyclopedia of memories. Who knows what will come of these stories or what my gap year experiences will lead to, but I know that this year has changed me for the better. 

It's been exactly ten months since I boarded my plane to Germany. Start to finish, this year has been a little bit surreal for me. I was able to set off on my own and find success wherever I went. But I was never really alone. Before I say goodbye, I have to thank everyone who has helped my this year. Thank you to my wonderful hosts, the Jusdons and the Scobles, who in very different ways helped my to grow up. Thank you to my friends, new and old, who opened up their doors for a night so that I could stop and see somewhere new before continuing on my journey. Thank you to my grandparents, Mommom and Babo and Mimi and Papa, for providing so much love and support, and always caring whether I was thousands of miles away or staying with them for a week. And thank you to my family. Thank you for all of the emails, phone calls, bits of advice, and words of wisdom as I set off into the unknown, promising to return safely. Thank you for trusting me, and thank you for knowing that my favorite place will always be at home with the five of us together. I love you all. 

A Memorial Day To Remember

As a dedicated soccer player, Memorial Day weekend always meant one thing to me: the Needham Soccer Tournament. Every year, I've made the trip east with my club, Berkshire Ajax, for lots of soccer, guaranteed stops at Boloco, and cookouts at the home of Kerry and Lou Collins. We've gotten to know the Collins family well through the Foehls, and as the years have gone by, the size of the cookout has only increased. 

When I was home for Dylan's book party, I found myself lamenting that this year would be the first time in a long while that I would miss out on the Memorial Day festivities. I returned to Hamden praying for the off chance that some part of my long weekend would open up. Sure enough, I found my Sunday evening restaurant shift switched to Saturday, and with the fifty degree weather, we had no need for caddies at the country club. I went to be Saturday night with no commitments for the next day, except a drive to Wellesley to enjoy my day off the way I had hoped. 

Well, not only did I make it to Wellesley, but I also found myself with front row seats for a slightly more meaningful sporting event than a U12 soccer game. Let me explain. 

I arrived in plenty of time to see Toby Foehl's 11:30 match, coached by my dad and Brooks Foehl. With my brother Sam and the rest of the Foehl boys in attendance, we watched the Willamstown squad beat up on its competition. As soon as the final whistle blew, the eight of us piled in the van. Soon, we were on the Mass Pike heading east towards downtown Boston. We listened to the Red Sox pre-game show on the radio, and as we jumped out of the car, the first pitch was about to be thrown. 

I remember Red Sox games when I was younger where my dad and I bought cheap bleacher or standing-room-only seats and then moved closer and closer as the game went along. It was always my favorite way to watch the game, because jumping around from seat to seat was a game in itself. Well, that was our plan, except we had a crew of eight plus Nick Fogel, who saved us a spot in the SRO ticket line. 

Our plan was set; though our execution was spotty, if you consider that we had everyone inside the ballpark with a ticket by the bottom of the second inning, then we did just about as well as we could've hoped. Soon our conglomerate was broken up into twos and threes, but we all managed to find free seats on the first base side of park somewhere near Sections 16 and 17. For $20, it wasn't a bad deal.

First it was this...

Though the Sox were putting on a lackluster performance at best, and though various members of our crew were forced to relocate from time to time, we all seemed to be enjoying the chilly Sunday afternoon game to its fullest. That was, until I discovered that two of my Greylock classmates--Eric Leitch and Alex Majetich--were also in the ballpark, sitting below us in the first row. I told Eric to turn around and look at us, and after successfully making the connection, Eric sent me a message that would drastically change my viewing experience. He told me there were two free seats next to him in the front row that hadn't been occupied yet. It was the fifth inning. I was willing to take the risk. So, between innings, Jake Foehl and I pulled some stealth moves to sneak by the ticket-checkers, and just like that, we were in the first row. As we gawked at how close we were to the field and fiddled with the TV fixed on the facade in front of us, the Indians tacked on another run to make it 4-1. It was cool to be just yards from the Sox players as they took practice swings, but it wasn't so cool when they proceeded to ground out weakly to second. 

And then this. Not bad, considering I had a $20 standing-room-only ticket in my pocket.

Soon it was the ninth. The thrill of being in the front row (and making appearances on TV from time to time) hadn't worn off, but our time was running out. It was 5-2, and the Sox were three outs away from falling to Terry's new team. Then Pedroia walked. Papi blasted one over the center fielder's head. Soon we were only down by one run. Then again, there were two outs. It was the end of the batting order--newer members of the Red Sox like Johnny Gomes, Stephen Drew, and Jose Iglesias--that got the two out rally going. Don't forget, I'm still sitting in the first row. Standing and cheering is the better description, because the bases were now loaded for Jacobe Ellsbury. 

I'm surprised the camera was able to capture me at a moment when I wasn't cheering.

Moments later, Ellsbury took a fastball out to centerfield that hit the Monster on the bounce. Fenway went berserk. Two runs scored with ease, and the Sox walked off with the win. I don't make it to Fenway often, so watching a walk-off ninth inning from the front row was one of the most exhilarating things I've witnessed at a live sporting event.  We gathered our crew together as the fans finally began to exit the stadium. We were lucky to get into the park, lucky to find decent seats, and lucky to celebrate a come-from-behind Red Sox victory. 

It was a phenomenal afternoon at the ballpark. Back in Wellesley, our cookout at the Collins's was bigger and better than ever, complete with Corn Hole and Kan-Jam in the yard and a big fire that was the perfect thing for the chilly evening. Around that fire, sitting next to old friends and others I'd just met, it was the perfect time to share stories and reminisce. I've gotten good at telling my Germany story, but with all of my other adventures since the new year, I have even more to share. And I can compare my discoveries, too. Like girls in Germany versus girls in the South (I think we all know which ones I prefer). It was great to see the Collins's and participate in another eventful Memorial Day weekend, even though I wasn't out on the soccer pitch. I know this one will be hard to forget.

I can't fail to mention my lunch the next day. We always make a point to hit Bolocco--that's been a tradition for years--but we've discovered another favorite spot: Pinkberry. Frozen yogurt is the new ice cream, and Pinkberry does FroYo right. If only we could get one in Williamstown...

Celebrating An Extra-Special Book Release

Longtime Friend and Newly Published Author Dylan Dethier's 18 in America

I could've asked for a sneak peak. Many times this spring I considered inquiring about getting my hands on an early edition. Just for one day. I even held a copy as I watched college hoops at the Foehl's house while the author himself sat in the room. It would've been fun to be one of the select few to preview the book. 

Something inside, though, held me back. As much as I wanted to devour the stories from my friend Dylan Dethier's epic adventure--like I did while he was blogging about his trip four years ago--I also wanted to respect Dylan's incredible effort to create this product. 18 in America is certainly not about me; it's about the Williamstown native who was crazy enough to hatch this plan and brave enough to follow through with it. So I decided to wait like everyone else. I wanted to congratulate Dylan first before enjoying the book the right way. 

Last Thursday, I was home from Connecticut to do just that. Thanks to the generosity of the Costleys and the effort of the Foehls and many others, we gathered high above Bulkley Street to celebrate the book release. The crowd began to roll in, and it was an hour before I got to see my friend Luke--home from his gap year out west--because he was busy shuttling people up the hill. As I greeted friends, many of whom I hadn't seen since Christmas or even last summer, I saw Dylan pulling stacks of books out of a cardboard box. It was real. Here in Williamstown, we had the chance to get our hands on the first copies of an incredible story that will find its way to coffee tables and bookshelves around the world. 

Soon Dylan was asked to read, and so it began. He shared the brief prologue, which in only a few pages captured everything that waited in the upcoming chapters. How an idea can take someone with a strong sense of adventure and a lot to learn from the peaceful solace of Williamstown to the dangers of Las Vegas. How being alone is all relative, until you're stuck in the middle of nowhere with nothing but your head and your hands to turn to. How the most diverse people from this diverse country all feel the need to help out an eighteen-year-old with a slightly crazy dream. And how golf is much more of a unifier than it's made out to be. 

My story is different than Dylan's. He inspired me, of course, and his book will inspire many more. Without Dylan, I doubt I would've had the courage to plan a four-month stay in Germany or set off for a road trip down to Florida and back. The only part of Dylan's journey that I set out to recreate was his sense of adventure--the willingness to throw oneself into something completely foreign and make it out with stories to tell. These stories are impossible to discover in Berkshire County, or even at a NESCAC college like Williams or Middlebury. 

I finished the book within twelve hours of receiving my signed copy. It wasn't the fact that Dylan was the author that kept me up until four in the morning. That would've kept me up until midnight, or one at the latest. To stay up till four meant that it went above and beyond. Dylan described the book on an NPR interview as "a collection of stories that just happens to have [himself] at the center." I think that fits the book well, because each story from Dylan's stops across America is enticing and memorable. In a way, this description also fits the writing I've been doing on this blog. I've had the opportunity of the last nine-and-a-half months to discover stories for myself and stockpile them here. It's not so much about what I've accomplished or how I've learned and changed, but rather the memories I've created by simply throwing myself out there. 

For now, Dylan has his book and I have my blog. I'm proud to call the author of 18 in America my friend, and even though it's still early, I can't help but see Dylan and his story go a long way. Who knows? It would make a pretty good movie. 

Hosting Family and Friends in Hamden

A slew of visitors making the trek south from Berkshire County (and Grafton, NY) hit Hamden last weekend--all excited to see what I’ve been doing this spring and all eager for some fun on the golf course, at the restaurant, and at the Scoble residence.

The Annual Golf Outing

First my family arrived, as well as my grandparents, Mimi and Papa. Among other things, Saturday was our third annual Scoble/Dils Family Golf Outing at New Haven. Two years ago, my dad, grandfather, and I joined Uncle Harry and Uncle Blair for the inaugural outing, and last year we reassembled the crew on the day before I left for Germany for a fun-filled sendoff. This time around, I was psyched to welcome my brother Sam into the group for his first round at the club. While the girls went out shopping, we grabbed lunch and proceeded to the first tee for our afternoon round.

I’ve had the privilege of caddying for some neat people at New Haven this spring, and I especially enjoy touring the course for first-timers. There’s been nothing more pleasurable, however, than showing Sam around as my playing partner for our match. He controlled his draw well, and made plenty of fives-for-threes. He even dropped a twenty-foot putt for par on the thirteenth—one of the hardest holes on the course. Though I struggled on the back nine, it was still one of the most enjoyable rounds I’ve ever had.

Family Time

What's better than a round of golf with family and friends? A round of golf followed by a cookout, with even more family and friends. We arrived home to find the girls back from their afternoon of shopping and a very exited Oscar (the family beagle)--drooling from the smell of chicken kabobs on the grill. It's not often that we have big gatherings in Hamden, but when we do, we always have a ton of fun. I was glad that we weren't shouting our conversations over the noise of the restaurant. Relaxing at home is hard to beat. 

Everyone had to return home on Sunday, but we were able to make a short trip into New Haven first for some breakfast, a bit of browsing at the Yale Bookstore, and a quick stop at one of my favorite places downtown: Elm City Market. It’s one of those awesome co-op grocery stores where everything is just a little nicer than a typical Stop&Shop. We all like New Haven, and we definitely make the most of our visits.

*  *  *

Sunday evening was the busiest I’ve ever seen Park Central Tavern. Because of the Yale and Quinnipiac graduations, every seat in the restaurant was booked, and of course, everyone arrived in the span of about half-an-hour. Though our head chefs Tom and Nat yelled nonstop for two hours, we successfully catered to the nearly 150 people without any catastrophes. 

A Visit From Hank

I remember what it was like to be a senior at Mt. Greylock--how it seemed that as the spring raced onwards, there were more and more excuses not to be in class. Well, I provided my best friend Hank Barrett with another excuse this past Monday. After his senior class decided to sleep over at the high school on Sunday night, Hank used the skip day to visit me. We met up at the Yale Golf Course with two of my restaurant coworkers. Over the course of the next four hours, there were plenty of good shots and bad shots, a few swear words, lots of laughs, and one memorable round of golf. I experienced the obligatory three-putt from the bottom of the six-foot swale on the ninth green, but I did manage to roll in an eighty-five foot birdie putt on the thirteenth hole. I'm glad I got to show the Yale course to Hank, because it's as unique as you'll see in New England. 

After the round, I showed Hank many other pieces of my life here in Hamden. We toured the New Haven Country Club but didn't get to play because the course was closed. Fortunately, Hank won't be far away while at Wesleyan, so I'm sure we'll be able to get out on New Haven together soon. We stopped by State St. to see the eagles' nest, and even witnessed the mama eagle feeding her baby. And we sat outside on the patio at Park Central Tavern for a well-deserved dinner. 

My favorite moment of the visit, however, was watching the sunset on top of East Rock Park. There isn't much better than looking out over the city of New Haven and the hills and forests of Connecticut as the sun descends out of sight, and sharing this with an incredible friend is something I'll remember for a long time. Seeing Hank made me happy. For one day, I could forget about everything I have to do before the summer arrives and just appreciate the things that have made Hamden my home this spring. 

Lastly, I need to wish Hank a happy eighteenth birthday. Our friendship goes all the way back to Little Red Preschool when I first moved to Williamstown, and it's been only great memories since then. I remember hours of 1-on-1 hoops in my basement, Rookie League baseball on Water Street Grill, birthday parties ranging from skiing at Brodie Mountain to court-side seats at a Celtics game, and shenanigans in Mr. C's sixth grade classroom. In middle and high school we became golf partners--often competing over eighteen or more holes at Waubeeka, where we both ended up working. And I'm so glad I chose to stick with basketball, if only to spend time with Hank. There were countless postgame hottub sessions at the Barrett household, and more often than not I ended up sleeping over. Their guest room is more fondly known as "Tommy's Room." Now we're both heading off to college, at different schools, but both in the NESCAC. I'm playing at Wesleyan on October 26th, and I know Hank will be there to watch. So after all that, enjoy being eighteen and enjoy these last few weeks of being a Mountie. I'll be home to see you graduate.

Getting Psyched For Dudley: A Day With Stich

Today is a Wednesday; grey skies here in Hamden are far from threatening but are just cool enough for second thoughts about only wearing a t-shirt. After a long Mother's Day weekend and plenty of hours logged at the restaurant, I've found this cozy day off to be a pleasant change of pace. Yesterday was exhausting, but for all the good reasons. It was a day I won't forget--a highlight of my time here in Connecticut. 

I rose early to watch the first rays of sun light fire in the clear morning sky. Donning my newly acquired New Haven CC shirt and Nike golf shoes, I set off from Fernwood Road--first a quick detour to Dunkin Donuts for a bagel and an iced coffee (always iced, no matter what time of year), and then onto the crowded Wilbur Cross parkway heading west. I was glad I got an early start, because despite the crawling traffic in Fairfield County, I found myself in Easton, CT with time to spare. There was no reason to be late for what lay ahead. I was meeting Rollie Stichweh, or "Stich," as we know him in the Storey family. Stich is one of my grandfather's closest pals, and their friendship dates all the way back to the summers they spent together as boys at Camp Dudley. My grandfather went to Williams to play soccer and basketball, and Stich became the quarterback at Army, competing against Navy's Roger Staubach. They have both done a tremendous amount for Dudley. As a Storey grandchild, I know that I'll be keeping an eye out for Stich's grandkids at camp this summer. 

I had no trouble finding the Stichweh's home in Easton, and I had the privilege of touring their beautiful place before we set off for our day of golf. Stich is a member at the Connecticut Golf Club, about which I'd heard plenty of good things. The club is slightly more exclusive than New Haven, for example, so with fewer rounds being played, the course is always in excellent condition. Stich made sure to explain how the the club was founded by the same man who helped to fund the Empire State Building. It began as a place for gentlemen to play golf, and remains true to this goal today. I noticed no frills, as it seemed all efforts went into maintaining a top-of-the-line golf course. 

Looking across the pond to the par-three eighth green carved out of the hillside 

As you can see from the photo, the course was constructed on a far from flat piece of property. I can only recall three holes without severe elevation change, and even those had fairways that tilted steeply from one side to the other. Every par three featured a downhill tee shot, with the fifth and tenth holes spilling over cliffs to reach the greens. There's something to be said for elevated tee boxes, for they certainly create exceptional views of the holes. And like Yale, as well as some of my other favorite golf courses, for most of the round there's not a house, telephone pole, or car in sight--just pure golf. Though it might not be my favorite layout ever, it was one of the best conditioned courses I've played, and for sheer fun value, playing the Connecticut Golf Club with Stich is hard to beat. 

While we were eating turkey club sandwiches and clam chowder in the clubhouse (one of the best chowders I've ever had, by the way), a member walked up to Stich to say hello and noticed the Camp Dudley logo on Stich's jacket. The member said his wife was looking into summer camp options for their eight and ten-year-old boys, and that Dudley had come up. Little did he know that he was talking to a former Camp Director and a current camp counselor who just happens to be the nephew of the Director. He was able to score a five-minute conversation about the joys of a summer at Dudley, and we also convinced him that visiting Westport while camp is in session is the best way to get a feel for the Dudley atmosphere.  

My crew from last summer out hiking in the Adirondacks

As I talked about camp, I realized that this summer can't come soon enough. I'm loving this spring in Hamden, but it's been nine months since I gave final goodbye hugs to my Dudley friends to embark on the greatest adventure of my life. I can't imagine myself now without everything I've learned and experienced in these nine months, but with only one month to go until I report to Westport, I absolutely cannot wait to be back at camp. 

What I've come to understand, however, is that every time I connect with a Dudleyite--from buddies over in Germany to longtime family friends like Stich--I keep camp alive. Right now, no campers are bunking in the cabins on the shore of Lake Champlain, but Dudley is alive all over the world. I was so fortunate to share this for a day with Stich, and hopefully we've found a new family to join the Dudley tradition. Thank you to Stich, I had a blast, and I hope to see you up in Westport this summer!

An Interview In Springfield & Dinner with Mom and Dad

Monday was an eventful day, even though it was a day off from work. I'd just finished caddying forty-five holes in two days as well as a busy Sunday night at Park Central. Though I didn't have any work commitments  I had a much more important appointment to prepare for. 

Last year I applied for the Valley Press Memorial Scholarship, but because I decided to take a gap year, I was told to wait a year and apply again when I was closer to my freshman year at Middlebury. I'm glad they made me wait. Though I resubmitted last year's application, I was able to update it with several more examples of my journalistic work in the form of blog posts. If I were on the scholarship committee, my ears would certainly perk up when I started reading about European travels, and for this reason, I'm glad I got to share my favorite blog posts with the committee. 

Apparently they were interested. I was invited as a "finalist" to interview in Springfield on Monday. Despite some car troubles, I made it to the Mercy Medical Center with time to spare. Before I could even sit down, I heard several comments from the committee of five women along the lines of "We can't wait to hear about your gap year!" I recognized that I've been talking and writing about my gap year for months now, and that the interview would be no different. When I was asked to say a little bit about myself, I was able to start with then end of my senior year of high school and go from there. I feel like the story of my gap year alone gives me a leg up on the typical contestant who goes to such-and-such high school, is the editor of his or her school newspaper, and will be graduating in a few weeks. At the very least, my story is fun. As I talked, I was able to tell stories. And at its core, that's what journalism is all about. I find out in two weeks or so whether I am selected as a scholarship recipient, but leaving the interview, I couldn't have felt better about my chances.

Though I needed no cheering up, stepping out of the meeting room to find my parents waiting put an even bigger smile on my face. We had agreed to meet for dinner, and they arrived just as I was finishing my interview. Even though they didn't have to cross any state borders, it was still a significantly longer drive from Williamstown than it was from Hamden. Soon we found ourselves out in the warm sun of downtown Springfield. It was nice enough to spend the rest of the evening outdoors, but Springfield isn't exactly the place for that. Fortunately, my dad had scoped out a nearby dinner spot--Theodore's BBQ. It was a restaurant with plenty of character, and as I began to read through my dinner options, I was glad to see a completely different lineup than what we offer at Park Central.

I've gone away three times this year; leaving has certainly become easier, but seeing family after a long stretch of separation has remained special each time we join together again. Of course, my parents meeting me for dinner in Springfield isn't quite the same as when they arrived in Germany for a week of adventures, but I appreciate any spending time with them--any time, any place. Dinner was fun. I shared thorough details about jobs at the restaurant and golf course and listened to stories from Williamstown, especially what it's been like welcoming Cindy into the Dils household. My favorite dish of the evening was the jalapeño corn fritter appetizer; my favorite moment was when my mom pulled a hard copy of the photo-book I'd created about my time in Germany with the Judsons. Earlier that day I'd sent a happy birthday email to Sebastian, who is now eight years old. I know that all of the Judson kids have grown so much since I left, but for now, I can only remember them as the nine, seven, four, and three-year-olds on the cover of the book.

The days are noticeably longer now, and as I drove back to Hamden in the setting sun, I realized how close I am to the end of my adventures. I'm so incredibly excited to return to Camp Dudley, but summers on the shore of Lake Champlain are something that I've known my entire life. This year, however, has been new to me, and because I've tried so many different things, it's remained new through to the end. It's only a week-and-a-half until I see my family again, this time with Sam and Miranda along for the ride, as everyone will visit Hamden next weekend. And after that, it's only another two weeks until I'm home for good--well, at least home long enough to pack up for Dudley and Middlebury. I think I'll have time for a few rounds at Taconic, too. 

A Few Quick Updates

Golf at Yale, A Visit From Mommom & Babo, and Caddying 45 Holes

It's been a good week. Despite a lot of work, there have been more than enough fun moments to keep me going. We're closing in on two straight weeks of blue skies and warm afternoons here in Hamden, and I can't remember a more glorious stretch of spring weather. I'm fortunate that many of my working hours are spent outside at the golf club, and as I tell the members when they ask how I'm doing that it's impossible to have a bad day when it's so nice outside. Here are details about a few of the best events from the past three days.

Thursday

On Thursday I enjoyed my first full day off (no work at either the golf course or at the restaurant) in quite some time. It was too nice to sit around or even sleep in, and fortunately, I had a golf outing with family friend Bob Ciulla planned at The Course at Yale. Joining us for our 8:30 AM tee time were two of Mr. Ciulla's regular playing partners: Ken Mackenzie, a former pitcher for the New York Mets, and John Godley, a lifetime veteran of the Yale course and author of a book detailing it's history.

The famous "Biarritz" ninth at Yale--the swale in the middle of the green is six feet deep!

I've had the fortune of growing up playing Taconic, the Williams College golf course. In all of the rankings, Taconic always finishes second to Yale for best college courses. Now Taconic is my favorite place to play golf, and I knew that Yale would have to be special to outmatch Williams's golf track. After eighteen holes at Yale Thursday morning, many memorable shots, conversations with Mr. Godley about the history of the course and the philosophy of the design, and two jaw-dropping moments when seeing nine and eighteen for the first time, I understood why Yale tops the charts. Every hole is memorable, strategic, and exacting, and though the views aren't quite as nice as those at Taconic, the individual holes are some of the most beautiful I've ever seen. It's easily the best classic course I've ever played. Plus, sharing the four hours with a few old-timers who didn't hesitate to yell at me for leaving a birdie putt short made the morning pure fun. 

Since I was already close to downtown New Haven, I used my free afternoon to visit two of our favorite food stops: Claire's Corner Copia and Gourmet Heaven. Claire's is an all-vegetarian cafe with incredible baked goods and drinks, and Gourmet Heaven is a market and deli with an endless buffet line of all types of foods. I picked up some sushi and fruit salad for dinner, and enjoyed a fabulous meal after my evening workout. It was a good day off.

Friday

I wasn't finished with spending time with Mr. Ciulla, because on Friday, my grandparents visited from Williamstown to see their friends the Ciullas, and of course, me. I showed them my home at 64 Fernwood Rd and the New Haven Country Club before leading them to the Ciulla's home, which turned out to be only a few miles away. Then the five of us went on a sightseeing drive--up to East Rock Park to look out over the city of New Haven, over to Ridgewood Rd to show off my cousin Leeza and her fiance Ben's newly purchased house, and then to Liuzzi's Specialty Italian Market. My grandfather absolutely loves Italy (hence the name "Babo"), so that was a lot of fun. I'll have to visit Italy at some point, although experiencing it with Babo would be the ultimate adventure. 

Later that evening we all rendezvoused at Park Central Tavern for dinner. I really enjoyed showing my grandparents where I've been working, and we were certainly treated well. It's fun to know the menu so well that I can describe any dish and make suggestions, but I have a hard time picking a favorite entree because they're all so good. Spending an evening at PCT with Mommom and Babo and the Ciullas was a treat, and I'm so glad they came down for a visit.

The Weekend

Today I was awake at 5:30, dressing in my new NHCC gear and rushing through a quick bowl of cereal so that I could be at the club by six. I did see a wonderful sunrise, which was perhaps the only benefit of being up so early. By seven-fifteen, we had forty-five carts staged and arranged by tee time for the Spring Member-Member tournament. The first groups went off at 7:40, but my work was far from over. I was asked to caddy for Mr. Reed and Mr. Colbert and gladly accepted, but I knew I had a long twenty-seven holes ahead of me. The tournament is arranged so that each pair plays five nine-hole matches against the other five pairs in the flight. Three matches Saturday, two Sunday, and then the winners of each flight play in the finals. Though carrying two bags for three matches was a workout, I was helped by the fact that my players were winning. I can be competitive if asked to be, so I read each putt like it was to win the Masters. We closed out our first match on the ninth hole with a clutch par putt, then dominated the second matchup. The first few holes of the last match of the day were a struggle, but we fought back to one-down with one hole to play. Unfortunately, neither could muster a birdie on the ninth and we lost for the first time. I was exhausted but glad we played so well. There's still a lot of golf left to be played, and if tomorrow goes well, we might just be competing for the championship tomorrow afternoon.

Rooting for Dyl at the NESCAC Golf Championship

And Some Thoughts on the Gap Year

It seems like I spend the majority of my waking hours involved with the game of golf. Friday, I caddied during the morning and later slipped out of the house for five holes at sunset. Today, I arrived at the club at 7:00 AM for another loop. Though it was a gorgeous morning out at New Haven, I had a different golf course on my mind. I did everything in my power to speed our group's pace of play, because I knew that the sooner we finished, the sooner I could jump in the car to go see my friend Dylan Dethier tee it up in the NESCAC Championship. 

This spring Trinity hosts the tournament since they were the top qualifier in the fall. Hamden isn't far from Hartford, and Trinity plays at a course fifteen minutes south of the city--even better for me. At 12:05 the final putt dropped for my group, and after hastily pocketing a two fifty dollar bills from Mr. Early and Mr. Garcia, I raced out of the parking lot--off to my second golf course of the day. 

I've mentioned Dylan on this blog many times for many reasons. I've known him since we were at Mt. Greylock together, and though he's already a junior at Williams, I often saw him around town or out on Taconic. Last winter, when I officially decided to take a gap year, Dyl was one of the first people I reached out to. I remember sitting in his dorm room in maybe March of last year, talking about all of my plans as we relived many of his successes and failures during his gap year. Though I wouldn't be on the road all year long like he was during his forty-eight state golfing escapade, I knew he was an invaluable source of information. He went through a year of solo travel and blogged the entire way, and these were two things around which I structured my year. I followed his blog religiously during his gap year, and his stories inspired me to seek similar adventures. Without Dylan, I doubt I would've planned any type of road trip. Now I've lived through six weeks on the road. I can definitely relate to what he experienced, and that makes me all the more excited for his book, 18 in America, which comes out on May 21. 

The last time I watched Dyl play golf was exactly a year ago, when Williams hosted the NESCAC tourney at Taconic. I was enjoying senior year, preparing for prom and graduation, and somewhat glad that I didn't have to start worrying about college quite yet. I had other worries, of course, but it's safe to say that those plans turned out better than I ever could've imagined. When you plan a big adventure, you focus on the big things, but when you experience that big adventure, it's the little things that stand out the most. It was impossible for me to foresee things like morning bike rides, hours spent passing the time on train rides, runs on the beach, or a quick five-hole loop at sunset. But I can't imagine my year without these little bits of happiness that I discovered for myself.

Today I found myself walking the front nine of Shuttle Meadow Golf Club in reverse, passing four groups of college golfers before meeting Dyl's foursome on the seventh green. The weather was perfect for golf; only the occasional flower petal fell from the sky in the soft spring breeze. I quickly found Dylan's mom, who was thrilled and a little surprised to see me. It took a few minutes of explaining how and why I came to be living in Hamden, but I was happy to explain my situation and talk about the previous phases of my gap year. Soon I was introduced to other parents--a couple living in Middlebury whose son went to Hamilton, and a Middlebury mom who had one son playing and another set to join me in the Class of 2017. Our small crowd followed the group through the turn and onwards to the back nine. These were the top golfers on their respective teams (Williams, Middlebury, Hamilton, and Trinity) and though they all struggled with consistency at times, they were all capable of pulling off incredible shots. Dyl carded an even-par 37 on the front and scrambled his was to a solid back nine score. On sixteen, he skied a short-iron that just cleared the top of a tree before landing pin-high on the back of the green. On eighteen, after driving right into the the tenth fairway, Dyl hit a high hooking three-wood from 270 to twenty feet, reaching the par five in two. After tapping in a birdie putt, he finished the day at one-over 72. Williams carded a team total of 292, but Trinity used its home-course advantage to shoot a 290. In team play, two shots is certainly not a safe lead, and hopefully by tomorrow afternoon, Williams will walk off the course as NESCAC Champions and earn an NCAA bid. (I'd love it if Middlebury made a run at it, too, but they're much farther off the lead). 

I've known the NESCAC for as long as I can remember. It's far and away the best DIII conference, and competition is always close. I'm only months away now from my first NESCAC game (September 7 at Amherst, if anyone wants to mark the calendar that far in advance), and I can't wait to finally be a part of the action that I've loved as a fan for so long. Still, I'm not quite ready to be done with this gap year. Maybe I never will be. As I do almost every time I'm out on a golf course, today I reflected on my year and my adventures. Every time I meet someone new and tell them my story, I'm happy that I've had the chance to do this. Dylan was in my shoes three years ago, and his college career has turned out just fine. I know that I'm on the same path. Four months from now I'll be moving in at Middlebury, and I couldn't be more excited. For now, I'm going to enjoy each beautiful spring day and make the most out the final stages of this year. It's been a lot of fun, and following Dylan around today on the course was no exception. 

Work, and Lots of It

Doubling Up at the Restaurant and Country Club

Everyone has had days where there isn't a minute of free time. It's been five full weeks here in Hamden for me, and up until my return from Martha's Vineyard this past Tuesday, I've felt that I've balanced my work schedule and my free time well. My goal has always been to put in hours and make money, and I've managed to do that while still having fun. 

Carts lined up and ready to go for the Opening Day tournament

Then, before I realized what was happening, my work schedule jumped up a few notches--perhaps one too many. It was the perfect storm of extra shifts at Park Central plus opening day tournaments at New Haven Country Club, and the hours began to pile up like debris in a flood. Now, on my first night off since the Vineyard, I have time to take a breath. Five hectic days have passed, and I'm still here--exhausted, but a fair bit richer. 

Our PCT entrance sign

When you add up my shifts at the restaurant, work at the golf course, and loops as a caddy from Wednesday through Sunday, the hours total approximately 53. Tack on five from Tuesday night and five more from today at the course, and that's a lot of work in six days. I'm certainly not complaining;  I write this only to give a realistic picture of the third phase of my gap year. Maybe it's not as glamorous as jam-packed days of traveling around Europe, but I know that this type of experience is different than anything I've done before. 

There was plenty of excitement wrapped up in the course of my work shifts, and the best thing is the "we're all in this together" attitude I share with my co-workers at both the restaurant and the golf course. When I'm tired of bussing tables, I know I can go to Derrek or Conor for a laugh. And when I've picked the range for the fourth time in six hours, I know I can talk golf with Alex or Jaimie to put my mind at ease. It's nice that so many of my co-workers are young like me. We all have our gripes, but at the end of the day, we're all willing to work hard, refer to people as "ma'am" and "sir," and try to have a little bit of fun in the process. 

The flag flies at full-mast again at New Haven Country Club

I did manage to enjoy a quick eighteen holes and a meal at Park Central this evening. Even though I haven't had single opportunity to play for quite some time, I managed to hit the ball straight today. I know that most weeks won't be quite this crazy. I'll have time for more rounds of golf and a trip here and there. And I know that plenty of friends and family are lined up to visit. I like always having something to look forward to. Whether that's a day off or a summer up at Camp Dudley, I'll never have any complaints when I'm in the twelfth hour of a long day of work. 

Vacationing with the Foehls on Martha's Vineyard

Three days of the best of life on the island

My first month here in Hamden, CT has flown by. Maybe it's because I'm working--and working a lot--or maybe it's because spring is finally upon us. It's been difficult at times, but there's been plenty of fun to go around. Still, when I made plans with our family friends, the Foehls, to visit them on Martha's Vineyard over their April break, the trip immediately became something to look forward to. 

Just like that, my visit with the Foehls has come and gone. Seeing Martha's Vineyard for the first time was special, but sharing it with friends made it one of my favorite adventures of the year. The island was still waking up from a quiet winter and nowhere near as busy as the summertime, but from what I experienced, I can see why MV is an incredible place to be at any time of the year.

A view of the sailboats anchored in the bay from the ferry

I spent months in Germany "catching" trains; this past Sunday, I felt the same urgency as I did in Germany, when I drove towards Woods Hole, MA to catch the outbound 10:45 ferry. I hurried, because like all of my travels in Germany, I was excited about my destination. To me, Martha's Vineyard always seemed like just another place to spend a vacation on the ocean, and the only context I had were stories from the Foehls and images from Jaws. As I rode on the top deck of the ferry, however, each new glimpse of the island made me more and more excited. I sat in the same place two days later, heading back to my parked car, wishing I had a day or two more to spend on the island.

Wiffle Ball, Backgammon, and Nighttime Walks

The Foehls have a pretty incredible set-up in Edgartown--one of three main settlements on the Vineyard. Their house--which they share with extended family--sits just a minute's walk away from the ocean, the tennis courts, and the main streets of Edgartown. I'll compare their house to our Storey Farm up in Westport, NY, just because it seems that in both places, there's always enough beds for another visitor. Outside, the yard sets up well for some epic home run derby wiffel ball games. In my first day, we packed in back-to-back sessions of tennis and wiffle ball. Along with Jake, Brady, and Toby Foehl, we had three more boys to fill the batting order--Nate, Zach, and Chaz Orluk, which made for some competitive innings, especially when the younger ones were pitching. 

At Flying Horses with the MV crew; L-R Toby & Brady Foehl,
Rick & Nate Orluk, Jake Foehl, Chaz and Zach Orluk, and myself

When we weren't playing outside, backgammon was the game of choice. Jake taught me to play the first night, and I think he regrets it, because I won five in a row against him in the following two days. We'll see how well my brother Sam fares in his visit with the rest of my family. (It was a shame we couldn't line up our visits, but work got in the way for me, and I'm just happy I was able to make the trip). 

Another staple of a good Vineyard day is the nighttime walk. I came at the right time, because the clear skies yielded starry views that rivaled the most perfect nights up at Camp Dudley. The streets were quiet and dark on our walks, and when we snuck through backyards along the water, not a single light could be seen. It was a far cry from how the place looks in the summertime, but that was alright, because we could have all of the stars for ourselves. I took nighttime walks while in Florida with Mommom and Babo as well. I guess when you are somewhere beautiful, it's nice to appreciate it all hours of the day.

Mini-golf, Flying Horses, and Long Runs

My one and only full day with the Foehls was packed with fun and excitement. After a morning walk through the main streets of Edgartown with Brooks and Jake Foehl and Rick Orluk, we prepared for a mini-golf competition. Three teams of three in a best ball match. I was paired with Jake and Chaz. Though we got off to a slow start, I thought our score of sixteen on the back nine would be enough to take the grand prize. Even Chaz, just a first-grader, came through in the clutch and aced the eighteenth for our team. I thought my 41 would hold up as the best individual score, too, but it was Brady Foehl who carried his team to a one-stroke victory, shooting an incredible 37 all by himself.

The next phase of our outing was truly a MV specialty--a trip to Flying Horses. It's the oldest carousel in the country, and you ride around grabbing silver rings from a little holder while the music plays. When the music stops, you know the one-and-only brass ring has been dropped in the chute, and it's only a matter of time until the lucky person grabs it. Some people are talented enough to grab two, three, or more rings each time they pass, which increases your chance of getting the brass ring. Though it seems like complete luck, getting the winning ring can be more of a science if you ride it enough. Yeah, I'm talking about you, Black Dog and Little JoJo. Don't ask. But maybe if you ride on the Flying Horses, you'll see them, and you'll know what I'm talking about. It was easily the best two carousel rides that I can remember. And a side note: my favorite band, Dispatch, sings a song about the Flying Horses and stealing the brass ring. It's a great song.

Stopping for an ideal photo-op on our run

I found myself running a lot while on MV. A bunch of us went out for a sightseeing/trespassing run later that afternoon, which included stops on the Edgartown golf course and in someone's lawn to snap a photo overlooking the ocean. Still, it's my run with Brooks on the following morning that I'll remember every time I think of MV. We left the house and the town early on Tuesday morning. By the second mile we were following a bike path heading towards the southeast tip of the island. At the four mile mark we stopped to climb the dunes and look over South Beach--twenty miles of picturesque sand and dunes. During the sixth mile we made the turn homewards. Each mile we increased our speed, until the ninth and fastest mile dropped us off back at the house. It was probably the longest run of my life, and definitely longer than anything I've done since last summer. I could feel the muscle soreness setting in right away, but it was worth it. And so was my breakfast, the "B-52 Bomber" plate at the Airport Diner. I certainly earned my final meal, though I may have indulged in a cup of chowder on the ferry heading back to the mainland.

I wish I was still vacationing on the Vineyard. I can't thank the Foehls enough for hosting me and showing me around. Everything I saw--from the house to Edgartown to the beaches--was even better than I expected. I can only hope that my family enjoys the same amount of fun during their visit. Though it's back to work for me, I'm so glad I had the chance to spend a few days with the Foehls in their favorite place. MV is definitely one of my new favorites, too.

In the Middle of America's Hockey Capital of 2013

Fewer than ten miles separate Ingalls Rink from the TD Bank Sports Center. Two hockey areas in the neighboring towns of New Haven and Hamden host two teams who will compete on Saturday for a NCAA National Championship--the Yale University Bulldogs and the Quinnipiac University Bobcats. And here I am, typing after this evening's entertaining television (Yale beat UMASS-Lowell 3-2 in OT, Quinnipiac won 4-1 against St. Cloud St), located at just about the halfway point between the two universities.

Hockey is king in the Hamden-New Haven area, and I've known that for a long time. I've enjoyed listening in on hockey conversations every time I visit, though most of the time, it's only my dad and my uncle Harry reciting the rosters from their state championship teams at Hamden High and trying to solve the never-ending argument of which squad was better (general consensus is that the 1986 team would top the 1976 team, but not by much). Now though, when I'm working in Park Central Tavern or at the country club, it seems that everyone is fascinated by the Frozen Four and the teams of Yale and Quinnipiac. 

You can imagine that everyone here is thrilled that both teams navigated their way though the semifinals on Thursday night. Now, the Bulldogs and the Bobcats will face off Saturday evening for the national title. It doesn't matter that Quinnipiac is 3-0 against Yale this season with a 13-3 goal differential; no, this is a title game. Sixty minutes (and overtime if necessary) of hockey for all the marbles. 

(Obligatory picture of Augusta National)

The Masters tournament has become my unofficial/official start of spring. When the best in the world roll into Augusta, I deem any chance of more wintery weather from here on absolutely preposterous. Still, while I drool over the manicured fairways of the world's most perfect golf course this Saturday, I'll be happy to give a one-day pass to an icier sport so that I can witness the Yale-Quinnipiac battle and join in the appreciation for this hockey-crazed area. It ought to be a good one. 

My First and Probably Most Exceptional Caddying Loop of the Spring

It might be hard to believe, but the first email I sent after deciding to take a gap year way back in December of 2011 was to my uncle Harry, saying, among other things, that it would be so cool if I could caddy at the New Haven Country Club in the spring of my year between high school and college. Many emails were composed since then, and so many ideas turned into reality even before I had the chance to come to Hamden. Still, I always had the prospect of caddying in the back of my mind.

When I learned earlier this week that I could begin looping at the New Haven Country Club, I was excited to say the least. I spent Wednesday out on the course, pacing off yardages, sizing up greens, and jotting down numbers in a pocket notebook. I already knew the course well, but I wanted to be prepared for my first loop. 

NHCC's classic clubhouse at sunset

Fast-forward a day. I'm digging through the trunk of my car for extra layers to battle the bitter April wind. I've been told my group will tee off between noon and one, so naturally, it's one-thirty and I've already been in my caddy bib for two hours. The peanut butter crackers I brought as a snack for the turn are already gone. It's been fun talking with Alex, a new assistant pro at the club, but we're both bored. 

Finally, our group arrives. First it's Doc and Chris--two young members sporting wind jackets tough enough to handle Scotland's heaviest gales. Then Don shows up, who is Doc's father and today's host. Last it's our guests. Rounding out the five-some are Israel and Oliver Horovitz. The name Oliver Horovitz probably doesn't click with too many people, but after a brief second, I realize I've seen that name somewhere recently. Then it registers. Oliver is the author of a recently published book about his personal experiences caddying in St. Andrews, Scotland--home of the Old Course. It's titled An American Caddy in St. Andrews, and I considered buying it a few weeks ago before I had any idea I would be caddying for the author. 

I can't believe it. First, I realize that this best-selling memoir probably makes Oliver one of the most famous caddies in the world at the moment. He's been featured on Golf.com and he's been a guest on CBS's morning news show. Seeing as I can't name any caddy besides Joey LaCava, who carries Tiger's bag, I figure he's probably had more publicity than almost any looper on the PGA Tour. Second, I can't wait to pick his brain for inside information about golf in Scotland, and especially at St. Andrews. I was incredibly fortunate to spend almost a week in Scotland during the fall, and as I detailed in this blogpost, I had the chance to spend a day in St. Andrews--exploring the town and walking the Old Course. I felt like I already had a small connection to Oliver. And St. Andrews aside, he and I share the fact that we both took gap years. I believe that only those who take a gap year themselves truly understand how transformative the experience can be. Third, I think of my friend Dylan Dethier and his coming-of-age golf journey, which also inspired him to write a book, titled 18 in America. I wonder in Oliver has even heard of Dylan's book. Lastly, it clicks that I have a stern task ahead of me. Even though he's never played at New Haven before, his caddying skills are lightyears ahead of mine. I know I'll be able to fake my way around the course, but not on the greens. If he can read the greens on the Old Course, these will be no problem.

We tee off, and soon I'm having just as much fun as I did when I walked the Old Course back in October. As I steer Oliver around the course (he also had three members offering tips and hints), I start to ask questions and share my own story. The minute I explain that I'm still fully engulfed in my gap year, I sense a closer interest in Oliver. Soon, I barely notice I'm caddying. I'm having a blast showing Oliver around my newest home course. From experience, I know to avoid the impossible questions (What's being a caddy at St. Andrews like?). I always struggled to answer the "How was Germany?" question. I was often tempted to say, "Just go read my blog!" I knew I would have to go read Oliver's book to find all of my answers. I soon discover that Oliver went to Williams Golf Camp at Taconic, that his dad has had work featured in the Williamstown Theater Festival, and that professional golfers who try to hit lob wedges from seventy yards on the Old Course suddenly start to score like a ten-handicap. Oh, I also find out that he's already heard a lot about my friend Dylan and his book, and he thinks it's an awesome story.

I'm a little thankful that Oliver's golf game is a bit rusty. It's early in the season, so many of his draws come out more like hooks and the majority of putts end up short. Still, I can tell he has a serious game--one especially fit for links golf in Scotland. I give him my best yardage estimates and green reads, and we manage to make it around the course without losing a golf ball. I feel I've done enough to call this loop a success.

I've known for a long time that golf is an incredible way to connect with people, and that extends to caddying. Still, I had no idea that making such a noteworthy connection as a caddy would happen so quickly! After our round ends, Oliver disappears for a minute and returns with a signed copy of his book. I thank him and promise that I will get him a copy of 18 in America. Golf is more than just a game, and I think that both Dylan's and Oliver's stories prove that experiences out on the course are ones you keep for a lifetime.

I found myself awake at 2:00 AM that night, still reading. And now, I've finished. I can honestly say that I didn't want Oliver's stories to end. Not because they were funny or riveting or powerful; not because they painted a picture of St. Andrews so vivid that I found myself longing to return; not because they taught me so many things about the game of golf and the role of a caddy. They were all of these and more. But the biggest reason I loved the book and didn't want it to end was because I could relate to Oliver's experiences in their most fundamental state. At its core, Oliver's story is about a high school graduate uprooting for a year to have an adventure and discover something more. As spring dawns upon us, I'm getting closer to the the end of my gap year. Still, I'm very much engulfed in all of these new experiences that have made my year so transformative. It's so cool when I hear the stories of a "gap year alum," especially when they take some part of their year off and translate it into something bigger down the road. I found so many places in Oliver's book where I wholeheartedly agreed with his thoughts and feelings. I can relate to falling in love with a place thousands of miles from home. Oliver made it a point to return to St. Andrews year after year, and I know that it won't be long until I return to Germany. And you never know. Maybe I'll spend a semester abroad in Scotland, perhaps at the University of St. Andrews. I may not devote myself to caddying like Oliver, but being in Scotland sounds like a pretty cool way to spend a few months abroad.

An American Caddy in St. Andrews is an awesome book written by a really cool guy. Oliver captures a lot more than just golf in his pages. I'd certainly suggest reading it.

A Quick Trip Home For Easter

I'll go ahead and state the obvious: Hamden, CT is a lot closer to home than Florida or Germany. This makes the potential of returning home only a snap decision away. So although I am not homesick (in fact I'm enjoying phase three of the gap year just as much as my grander adventures), I know it's only slightly longer than two hours in the car if I need or want to visit home.

Easter family gathering - Sam, Miranda, Mommom, and Cindy!

This past Easter weekend was my first of what will probably be a handful of quick decisions to swing by Williamstown. I found out that Park Central Tavern didn't need my assistance all weekend until the dinner shift on Sunday night, so plans were quickly set for an overnight trip. I left bright and early on a gorgeous Saturday morning (I would've squeezed in a quick nine holes before leaving, but I had a 10:00 AM kick-a-round on the turf to attend). Within fifteen minutes of passing into Williamstown, I was lacing up my boots for a small-sided soccer match, featuring many of Greylock's past, present, and future stars. And to my delight, the hour-and-a-half of soccer was only a prequel to the nearly three hours of tennis I played in the afternoon. Tennis is awesome, and I wish I knew a little bit more about what I was doing. I have a decent serve and can play a slice anywhere on the court (credit to my squash skills), but my ground strokes are about as inconsistant as the Red Sox's batting order. (Hey, we did win on opening day for the first time in a few years, so maybe it's a little early to criticize the Sox). Anyway, it won't be more than a few weeks until Sam is beating me 6-0 all the time, but I enjoyed hitting it around with the crew on Saturday. 

That evening brought a gathering at the Foehl household for a full slate of college sports on television. The NCAA basketball games were slightly uninspiring; even though it's always cool to see a high seed make it to the final four, I had little motivation to root for Wichita State as opposed to previous Cinderellas like Butler, VCU, and George Mason. Maybe Wichita would have more going for them if FSGC hadn't reached the Sweet Sixteen as a fifteen seed and captured the national spotlight. Fortunately, there was plenty of college hockey on as well. The greater New Haven area suddenly became the hockey capital of America as Yale and Quinnipiac both pulled off come-from-behind victories. We'll see both of them two weekends from now in the Frozen Four. Though both of our families are crazy about sports, the frequent Dils-Foehl gatherings are a highlight of mine no matter what is on television. And if all goes as plan, I'll be seeing them in Martha's Vineyard in a couple weeks. (Yeah Toby, get ready for plenty of wiffle ball). 

I've gone too long without mentioning an important new piece to the Dils family. My absence has opened up a spot in the house for Cindy, a Rotary Club exchange student from France. She's been at Mt. Greylock all year long, and we're the fourth family to host her. I got to meet Cindy this past weekend, and by the looks of it, Miranda is really enjoying having another girl in the house. She made it through our evening of sports viewing with the Foehls, as well as the next morning's Easter Sunrise Service. 

The sunrise service is an Easter tradition that I haven't missed in many years. Every Easter morning, whether it's sunny or snowing, a crowd from the Second Congregational Church of Williamstown gathers at Mt. Hope for a short service. We stand in a circle, listen to the congregation's youth, and sing without any piano or organ. And once in a while, as was the case this Easter, we see a sunrise. 

My visit home for Easter wouldn't have been complete without a brunch with my grandparents, Mommom and Babo. They arrived home from their six week stay in Florida this past Friday, and I know we were all thankful, because Easter wouldn't be the same without them. It feels like a whole lot longer than six weeks ago that I said goodbye to Mommom and Babo in Florida. Sharing an Easter meal with them was a treat. I've missed our Sunday gatherings as much as anything this year, so each one I get to attend is even more special.

As I drove back to Hamden, I realized there was a lot to look forward to. My first two weeks of settling in and learning the ropes at my jobs are now over. I feel comfortable everywhere I go, and I am excited that caddying at the New Haven Country Club begins soon. It's been fun living here in Hamden, and I can't wait for spring to stay for good. I'm taking it one day at a time, because if I've learned anything this year, it is that time goes by way too fast.