Stories About Killingworth

You ask about my home town, How can I half describe, The beauties of this piece of ground ,Though here I’ve spent my life.

‘Tis here that nature has full sway, She here displays her charms, Here song-birds trill their happy lay
On rocky, hillside farms.

In summer-time there may be heard, The robin, lark, and jay, The thrush, the cuckoo and blackbird, The bluebird’s cheerful lay.

The hoarse caw of the crow is heard, Bob-white shouts out the quail, The cat-like call of the cat-bird,
The night hawk’s mornful wail.

The humming-bird and the bee flit by In search of honey sweet, Hither and yon the swallows fly, On wings that are most fleet.

The cricket’s chirp, the croak of frogs, Sounds loadly in our ears, The turtle’s whistle mong the bogs, Tree toads say “rain is near.” 

Now near the center of all this, A church stands on a hill, A Congregational Church is this, And here we worship still.

For eighty years this church has stood, Through storm and heat and cold, Its influence has been good for me, Blessing both young and old. This church has missionaries sent To lands far, far away And there their lives have all been spent, In teaching men the way.

Now near this church but in the rear, Stands Agricultural Hall, Our great town fairs are all held here, Town meetings courts and all.

And here the Y.P.S.C.E.’s, Their weekly meeting hold, Here also picnics, socials, teas, And festivals they hold.

Here too the Grangers have their home, And semi-monthly meet, When farmers and there families come, And brother patrons greet.

Not far away is a country store, And Post Office combined, One mail a day does it afford, To satisfy our mind. 

A wagon-shop is near at hand, A blacksmith’s shop beside, Here does the “Village Smithy” stand His anvil by his side.

The street is lined on either side, With houses large and small, Gardens and barn are there besides And room enough for all.

Into districts the town’s divided, In all they number eight, In each a schoolhouse is provided, For education’s sake. The Methodist Church ceased to exist, Their building’s even gone, The ‘Piscopals have an edifice, Where their services they perform.

A paper-mill once was in town, And seemed to prosper well, The mill long since burned to the ground, Its ashes rest here still.

Old people tell us of the day, When tan-works and shoe-shop, In operations were each day, Long since their works did stop.

Now when our people need new boots, They to the village hie, Look O’er the merchant’s line of goods, And ready-made boots do buy.

Three saw-mills the town can boast, Of gristmills likewise three, Our industries are gone almost, I fear soon all will be.

Our hills and valleys are all here, And they are here to stay, We’ve air so pure and springs so clear, And these can’t run away.

But boys and girls no sooner grow To men and women strong, Then to the city they all go to join the busy throng.

They leave the farm to get along, In any it may, Because they rather join the throng, That’s rushing on its way. More charms has city life they think, Than quiet rural life, From pleasures cup they hope to drink, And never meet with strife.

It matters not where life is spent, Nor where our duty calls, Trials to to every one are sent, To each a full share falls.

So when old Killingworth you leave, Do not expect to find, That cares, perplexities and grief, Have all been left behind.

     Back in 1946,and 1947 I attended a one room school house on Chestnut Hill Rd. Our teacher was Mrs. Florence Rich. It seems that I never did get around to thanking her for teaching me so very much. Time flies, and a person pushes little thoughts like this to the back of his mind. Now here it is some 52 years latter. Browsing on my sons computer, and I see you are asking for short stories about Killingworth. I believe there were 7 of us that 8th grade class. Maybe one of my fellow class mates will remember me. I had one brother and a sister who also attended that school. As we walked to school, I can recall snapping the twigs on low hanging sugar maple in early spring when the sap started to flow. Over night the sap would freeze into little sweet Popsicles. We had outdoor plumbing there at the school, and a nice playground. Oh yes times have changed, gone are all those one room school houses, except for a few you may see restored as museums, etc. I'll never forget that school, or my favorite teacher Mrs. Rich.  We learned a lot. I once saw a bumper sticker which read,  "if you can read this, please thank a teacher", so Mrs. Rich "thank you very much". 

    your student, Donald Norman

From "Genealogical History of the Redfield Family in the United States"
by John Howard Redfield, 1860:

     "Theophilus Redfield was a joiner by trade, and probably settled in
Killingworth, Conn., soon after becoming of age.  The first mention of him on
the records of that town is in March 1704/5, when he bought a small piece of
ground for a homestead in what was then Killingworth, but which has since
been set off by the name of Clinton.  On the 24th Dec. 1706, he married
Priscilla Greenel (or Grinnell), then age 17, dau. of Daniel and Lydia
Greenel who three years before had settled in Saybrook.
      "For several years after his marriage, Theophilus Redfield continued to
reside in the souther part of the town, but about 1717 he bought a tract of
land of about 120 acres on Chestnut Hill in North Killingworth, within that
part of the town to which the name of Killingworth is now restricted. 
Chestnut Hill is an elevated ridge of land, about a mile and a half west of
Killingworth church, extending north and south for nearly two miles between
the forks of the Hammonassett river, and commanding a beautiful and extensive
view both east and west.  Tither he removed and resided for the remainder of
his life.  This property seems for the most part to have been retained among
the descendants, and at least four families of the name still reside on
Chestnut Hill.
     "He had 13 children, all of whom lived to be married and have their own
families.  He died on the 14th February, 1759, in the 77th year of his age. 
His wife, Priscilla, survived him eleven years, and died age 81."
    ( Submitter's Note:  Research has shown that descendants of Theophilus
still inhabit the Middlesex County area.  Of particular interest is that the
wife of Theophilus, Priscilla Grinnell, was the great granddaughter of John
Alden and Priscilla Mullins, of the Mayflower.  Thus, all Theophilus Redfield
descendants may lay claim to being Mayflower descendants.)
     -- Ray Downing, Las Vegas, NV, grandson of Pearl Redfield

DEER LAKE

   Many years ago as a young Boy Scout I would come camping at Deer Lake.  This
place has held a special place in my heart and has provided me with memories
that I will always cherish.
   My earliest experience at Deer Lake was in the winter of 1977.  My
Scoutmaster George Stratton form troop four in West Haven decided to take
some of us up to Deer Lake to camp in a Cabin.  There is nothing more
magical than a walk along dirt roads at twig light in the midst of a New
England Winter.
   The stove in that cabin was always kept blasting for us to dry off next to
and my Scout Master Mr. Stratton would instruct us into how to track a deer
in the snow.  Most mornings we would wake up to a family of Deer outside of
the door to the cabin.
   Upon reaching Life Scout Rank during a stay at Deer Lake I was inducted into
the "Order of the Arrow", an elite Scouting organization,  at an
intimidating ceremony that involved Indians with touches abducting us and
then giving us instructions on our weekend initiation that would take place
in a few months at Camp Sequassen in the spring.
   Mr. George Stratton was one of the best people I have ever known.  After his
wife died of cancer he still managed to take care of his three children and
still bring the gift self reliance and self respect to a multitude of
Scouts. 
   Mr. Stratton Died four years ago and I now live in Southern California but
every now and then on a quiet night in that peaceful state of mind one gets
right before falling asleep my mind drifts to Deer Lake and the times that I
had there.  I will hopefully return someday.

Tim Withington
4432 Skyglen Court
Moorpark CA 93021