This afternoon, while I was shagging fly balls bare-handed at the 3rd Annual Colt Invitational in Hartford, a woman who had grown up in our house in the 1950's dropped by. She was one of thirteen foster children in the home. She described to Jennifer where everyone slept -- kids in two double beds in our bedroom, how many in Vivian's room, more on the now semi-derelict third floor, etc. But she was particularly delighted to see the beautiful shelves they had built into the family library were intact and full of books.
We're really just starting to piece together the rich history of this place.