My lost brother departs.
On his last afternoon in the Pioneer Valley, we took my brother to Quabbin for a picnic.
The state police also operate out of there.
The Quabbin Reservoir in general is over-policed, at least from the perspective of me and my fishing buddies in years past. With rangers everywhere scanning the water with binoculars, how could you smoke pot, get drunk or take your clothes off? We were not the sort of fishermen who could withstand supervision, so I've never gone fishing there.
We went to see the little museum in the Visitor's Center.
They had stuffed examples of Quabbin wildlife on display, like the coyote and bald eagle.
Here is my brother John and my brother in law Steve.
The whole environment is absolutely beautiful.
Unfortunately in the picnic area you really can't get near the water.
Too bad the authorities are so uptight, these look like slopes that would be a lot of fun, especially in winter.
When we brought John and his wife Connie to Bradley airport to catch their plane back to Nevada, I was pleased to see this giant banner from the Governor of Connecticut welcoming the returning troops.
However, apparently the Governor is not universally popular, as evidenced by the Connecticut version of the Valley Advocate.
I always assumed that Bradley International was named after General Omar Bradley, but I was corrected by this plaque. Actually it is named after Lieutenant Eugene Bradley, a fighter pilot killed in 1941.
On a much lighter note is this statue of a cow catching a frisbee in the airport lobby.
My brother is enflight even as I write these words. It sure was an interesting and enjoyable visit. Now next year it will be my turn to return the gesture by visiting Nevada!