Memories of 9/11

Memories of 9/11

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

9/8/10

Fairfield, CT - Nine years have passed since 9/11 and, yet, the memories of that day – that week – are as vivid as if the events had happened yesterday. I was at Ground Zero just 26 hours after the first strike and these are my recollections of the day of the events and my subsequent tour of lower New York.

On the morning of September 11^th, I had just dropped off my son, almost six years old, at his elementary school and looped up to a car wash on Tunxis Hill Road. It was a spectacular day – bright blue skies and a perfect temperature – so in contrast with the horrors that were to follow.

While vacuuming my car, an attendant mentioned that a plane had just hit the World Trade Center. My immediate assumption was that it was a single-engine aircraft and it had accidentally hit the building. I flipped on the radio and, of course, that guess was soon dispelled as on-the-scene reports came in and then President Bush made an announcement and labeled it an act of terrorism.

I quickly realized that both towers had been hit by separate jetliners and that they were engulfed in flames and smoke. I finished up and began racing home to join my wife and our younger son, almost two. En route, the first tower fell and I did all I could to keep my car on the road as the magnitude of what had just happened hit me.

As I pulled into the driveway, my wife poked her head out the window and began to tell me what was happening, but of course I already knew. I joined them in the living room and we watched our TV as events continued to unfold. The collapse of the second tower. The strike on the Pentagon. The downed plane in Pennsylvania. Grounding of all air traffic.

The phone rang periodically as friends from across the country and around the world called in to check on our well being. It all seemed so surreal. After all the reports were in, it seemed finally all the worst had happened. As evening approached, there was an eerie quiet everywhere – both in the air and on the streets as we all wrestled with the news.

As the new day dawned, I could not just sit and check news reports again. And I felt I needed to see for myself that this had indeed happened and what that scene was like. So I set out in my truck down I-95, passing rest areas at which plywood signs had been placed and marked “Staging Area”, bound for New York. Other disturbing signs indicated the city was closed – yes, closed – to traffic and I realized I would need to find another mode of transportation to complete the trek.

I b-lined to the Bronx and, with my brother-in-law, Deon, hopped a train, riding it as far south as we could, to Houston Street.

There, we found the street deserted, with the exception of a lone fire engine with an American flag flapping from the rear that whipped around a corner, and police-manned barricades running the length of the city from east to west. Working our way over to the East Side, with smoke drifting in our direction, we slipped through the line and hugged the F.D.R. Drive, moving south on foot. Like Houston Street, there wasn’t a single car on the Drive either, though it was nearly midday on a Wednesday.

Reaching the South Street Seaport, we saw about a dozen cops, who had obviously been working through the night, taking a breather on long benches and sipping from water bottles. A military Humvee passed, with a soldier manning a rooftop gun. Overhead, F-16s did a flyover. And around us, the cobblestones and cars were covered with this white ash that looked like snow and grew deeper as we moved toward the Trade Center site. On a windshield, someone had scrawled in the ash with his or her finger, “Bomb Bin Laden!”

As we got nearer, we passed firefighters, Con Ed workers and cops, as well as bagel carts and women’s high heels that had been abandoned, and then dust covered, as the debris clouds from the collapsing towers came rolling through the streets. There were gaping holes in the street and steam pouring out from pipes that had cracked and would need to be replaced.

We reached another perimeter, on Liberty Street, and could just make out the jagged remains of the distinctive “tridents” that defined the design of the towers. Smoke and dust billowed from the area and where we stood the ash was a good two inches deep. A memento seeker scooped some of this into an empty Snapple bottle. I found a One World Trade Center business card and a Fed Ex form from same, and stuffed these in my pocket. (I would later get in touch with the owner of the business card, a Port Authority employee, who was lucky to have survived.)

We moved further south down to Battery Park, passing downtown residents hurriedly vacating apartments and toting suitcases, others making lunch on small grills right on the sidewalk, police filing onto a bus that had been commandeered as emergency transportation and a small tank sitting right in the park. To a side street, a row of ten or more police cars and taxis, flattened by falling debris, had been towed.

Looking up West Street, we were afforded another view of the site and the void in the skyline where the buildings had been. More barricades had been erected here and soldiers were escorting residents to their places to remove belongings. Flatbed trucks were already hauling out twisted steel beams, taking them to awaiting barges for the quick jaunt over to a Staten Island dump site.

Already photos of missing loved ones and relatives were being posted along makeshift plywood walls near Trinity Church, which had somehow survived the collapses. Out in the Bay, there was no boat traffic, with the exception of a Coast Guard ship guarding the Statue of Liberty and a DEP ship moored off the point.

We had seen what we needed to see, proved to ourselves that the events had indeed been real and that the Towers had truly been taken down in a bold assault on American soil. And as we rode the train back north, we also realized that life as we knew it would never again be the same. That our collective innocence and sense of security was lost.

Me and My Shadow

Me and My Shadow

By Mike Lauterborn

(Ran as front page feature Fairfield Sun newspaper Sept 9)

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

9/1/10

Fairfield, CT – Mother to three children. Girl Scout leader for 10 years. Girls soccer coach for 2 years. Constant chauffeur. Home camp supervisor. Always unselfishly doing for others. Now it’s her turn and her time and the road is her escape.

When Kathleen Silva Tempini, or simply “Kate”, ventures out on her Honda Shadow, she turns heads. Not only is her gleaming cruiser-style motorcycle a beauty, she’s a beauty. At 55, she’s a vision with her slim figure, red-highlighted mane of brown hair tumbling down to her shoulders and sea green eyes sparkling like the sun glinting off the surface of a Caribbean sea. When she’s astride her bike, she makes a “look at me, I’m free” statement, though she would modestly tell you that’s not intentional.

Earliest Inspiration

Kate was born and raised in Monroe, CT, one of four girls in her family -- a middle child with an identical twin. Her dad was a professional truck driver, mom was a homemaker. “I always had the feeling that I could try anything at least once and cross gender boundaries. Dad took us all fishing on Sunday mornings and clamming… he had us paint the house, help move furniture, gut and clean fish, take wiggly eels off a hook, horseback ride. So why not try a cheaper version of the horse?”

She started humbly at first. Dad had a “sit-down” lawnmower and Kate “ran it so much that it ran out of oil and cracked the block.” As punishment, her dad made her mow the yard with a push mower all that summer. She had a go-kart, too, with a little motor. Monroe was very rural back in the 50s and 60s when she was growing up there, so there was a lot of room for riding around.

First Bike

Kate’s first bike was a 1972 Honda CT90, purchased used from a woman in 1978, when Kate was 23. This model was a tough, inexpensive and reliable single-cylinder Trail cycle that, notably, the Hondells immortalized in a 1964 song called “Little Honda”. The song referred to the cycle as “a groovy little motorbike.”

She fondly remembers the summer of 1980 when, as a student on break from Johnson and Wales University, she took the bike out to Block Island. Its 2-speed torque, small size and easy handling allowed her to ride on the sand and go watercress picking, fishing and beaching… or just cruise in the dunes.

Kate held onto the bike, shipping it from place to place, through married life and children, and still has it in her garage. She had a mechanic service it, got it running again and taught both of her daughters – Laura, 18, a freshman at Champlain College, and Holly, 16, a junior at Roger Ludlowe High School – to ride as well as one of her daughter’s boyfriends.

A Re-Awakening

“When my son [Bryan, now 19, but at the time a junior in high school] said, ‘You care too much about the family and not about yourself,’ I reinvented myself.” She redid her resume and landed a job as an ultrasound technician with a local fertility practice. Kate loves the position – “The first heartbeat… unbelievable… I can’t imagine being any happier or more fulfilled… except when I’m riding.”

After raising three kids over the past 20 years (the last 16 of which have been spent in the Fairfield Beach Area), juggling daily schedules, running a day camp out of her home, being a Girl Scout leader, coaching girls soccer and shuttling her son to sports competitions, she realized her own sense of self had gotten lost in the mix.

“When Bryan left for college two years ago, I felt somewhat abandoned. I never thought about who I was or what I liked. I unselfishly thought about the kids. I got the old bike running and started riding everywhere, doing errands, etc.” But this was not enough.

“I decided I needed to get a bigger bike… like I wanted to go further, not just around town, and needed something more reliable,” she concluded. “My little bike would crap out when I put the headlight on. I started looking for a small cruiser-style bike.”

Bike II

“I found a 250cc Honda Rebel that belonged to a little old man in Pennsylvania. It was pearl white. I knew local instruction classes were conducted on Honda Rebels, so I figured it would be reliable,” reasoned Kate.

“I rented a truck from Enterprise, motored to this little trailer park in Altoona, PA and paid $3,000 cash to the seller,” she said. “He rode that bike right up the wooden ramp into the truck with a last hurrah!” remembered Kate, an amused grin spreading across her face.

The upgrade meant she would need to get a license, which she described as a “hard” process. “Practicing maneuvers, panic stops and serpentines down at the marina in Fairfield proved to be a great training ground. I obtained my permit and prepared for the test. On test day, I steeled myself and rode rather shakily on 95 down to Norwalk. Believing body language accounts for a lot, I tried to look tough but was terrified. All the riders gathered. Talk about intimidating… I was one woman amongst 21 men. Somewhere in the middle of the group, I was called. My raw fear took over, I stalled the bike, could not repeat any of my previously mastered skills on the course and subsequently failed.”

That could have been the end of it, but Kate returned to the DMV. “One of the nicest employees there returned my paperwork and gave me a huge dose of empathy. She said, ‘Honey, those boys just ate you up alive. You come back in two weeks and try again.’ Through tears and thoughts of resignation, I rescheduled a repeat test… and passed! The rest is history. Now I feel like Pippi Longstocking flying in the breeze and nearly always sing to myself while riding.” Smiling, she adds, “My daughter did not always like me showing up at Field Hockey practice on my bike, so I keep it low key when I need to. But inside I am on Broadway singing my heart out, riding and steering the bike like a good cutting horse.”

Kate held onto the bike for about a year and a half then sold it to a 19-year-old woman, last fall. “I felt I’d outgrown it, and had begun to entertain the thought of joining a motorcycle group. I knew I would need more than 250cc’s to keep up.”

Out of the Shadows

“I found a Honda Shadow at a Honda dealer in Hicksville, Long Island,” Kate related. Specifically, the bike is a 2007 Honda Shadow VTX Deluxe 600cc, “a stepping stone” Kate says from her last bike and a good fit for her 5’7” build.

“I drove in my husband’s truck to the dealer, brought the bike back to J & R’s (an auto repair shop on the Post Road in Fairfield) and backed up to the lift.” When it was lowered down, she left her “husband’s truck right there, got on the bike and rode it home… no plate, no nothing, I was so excited. I was hooting and hollering (inside) like I was in my own parade! It’s got a fat-ass back tire -- that makes me feel good.”

New Beginnings

A friend acknowledged the purchase with a gift of a silver “Guardian Bell”, with the engraving “Lady Rider” on it, which now hangs from the front area of her bike. Legend has it that Evil Road Spirits have been latching themselves on to motorcycles for as long as there have been bikes on the road, and are thought to be responsible for mechanical problems and bad luck on a journey. By attaching a small bell onto your bike, the spirits theoretically become trapped inside the bell. There, the constant ringing drives them insane, making them lose their grip and fall to the ground. Apparently the bell is twice as powerful when given to the rider by a friend or loved one, as in Kate’s case.

Kate also purchased a pink helmet and a windshield and rides with an iPod. As to clothing, she favors equestrian-style riding chaps, a leather jacket and boots with “no square tip”. s

A Woman in the Wind

Kate learned about a women’s motorcycle club -- the Nutmeg Chapter of a national organization called “Women in the Wind” – thought she’d find fellowship with them and joined. “I can call up one of the members when I get out of work at noon and say, ‘let’s go riding’. I like the solitude, the smell of the lilacs, that briny smell by the sea.”

Like a line from the Al Jolson tune “Me and My Shadow”, for Kate, life going forward “is gonna be we-wow-whee for my shadow and me!”

SIDEBAR

J & R to the Rescue!

Fairfield, CT – It took a few helping hands at Fairfield’s J&R Service Station to help Kate Tempini realize her dream.

“Kate was supposed to take the bike home and unload it there,” said station owner John Ellis, 54, about the day the Fairfield mom called on him for help with the Honda Shadow motorcycle she’d just purchased. “But she didn’t have enough bodies to help. So she came here, thinking that the three of us (Ellis, lead tech Ronnie Farrington, 45, and tech Roberto Zurlo, 35) could lift it off (the back of her husband’s truck). She was really excited about riding it!”

As he recalled the process, Ellis said, “We backed the truck up into the back bay and used the drive-on ramp to unload it. Ronnie sat on top of it while we moved it off. As soon as we got it on the ground, she hopped right on and drove off!”

Kate made a follow-up visit to J&R two days later. “She had gotten her registration and had the bike all waxed and polished,” said Ellis. “It looked beautiful!”

Ellis has known Tempini for 14 years, first encountering her while she was a waitress at Avellino’s Restaurant, right next door. “We’ve worked on her family’s cars for years,” said Ellis. “That’s why she figured we could do it. She knows we are creative problem solvers.”

“Kate’s very bubbly. No moss grows under her feet. She’s very active, very giving,” continued Ellis. “I didn’t know she was a ‘biker chick’ and that she’d owned bikes in the past! She’s having fun running around town in her little pink helmet!”

Ellis related Kate’s story to a customer, former Fairfielder and now Lordship resident, Carolyn Angelo. “A lot of bikers go down our street. I always get a kick out of ‘senior’ bikers. They’re so joyful. Good for Kate!”

Red Hot Red Lulu

Red Hot Red Lulu

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

9/3/10

Norwalk, CT – The heat of the day had pushed the mercury up and temps continued to hover in the high 80s as Red Lulu stood ready to receive guests one recent Thursday evening. A select list of VIPs were tagged to preview the new restaurant, which had firmly established itself at 128 Washington Street in the throbbing heart of South Norwalk.

The “cocina & tequila bar”, as it had been billed, is the sister restaurant of Byram hot spot Lolita and the brainchild of cb5 Restaurant Group. More than just a creative spark though, its founding was spurred by the very crowd that patronized Lolita.

“Lolita just worked,” said cb5 Group owner Jody Pennette, “and requests to open another Lolita just followed. And we listened.”

Expectations were high with the promise of “the flavors and flare of Mexico City.” But a casual, vibrant atmosphere suited to SoNo’s artsy/trendy neighborhood was also pushed.

Authentic talent had been secured in the kitchen: Mexico City-bred Executive Chef Juan Reyes, recruited from Lolita and known in prestigious kitchens in Manhattan. On Red Lulu’s menu, he had placed such delectable items as bbq pork ribs with spicy Mexican coffee bean, chocolate, sesame and orange glaze; garlic shrimp flautas; and tacos with blackened grouper.

If the menu wasn’t enough to dazzle, some four-wheeled eye candy was rolled in for the opening occasion: a pumpkin-colored Lamborghini from Manhattan Motorcars, unloaded from a flatbed and parked in the newly dubbed “Zona Rosa” out front. Adjacent to the sassy automobile, three lovely senoritas dressed in black tagged patrons with orange wristbands.

Past the checkpoint, one enters a foyer with red velvet drapes, rustic ironwork, low-sitting couches, exposed brick and strategic red lighting. Most notable, pulsing Latin, classic rock and hip hop beats, which put an immediate spring in the step.

Generous tequila cocktails were distributed at the event start. These were a teaser of Red Lulu’s liquor arsenal, which includes an impressive collection of tequila sets, margaritas, cocktails, fine Mexican beers, show-stopping sangrias and Mexican aqua frescas.

Probing more deeply into the facility’s inner sanctum, one is enveloped in a red hue affected by more red lighting and red velvet walls. An elbow-shaped bar is a bee hive of activity as a team of bartenders pour, mix, shake and dispense refreshing libations. In display cases along one wall, Lucha Libre Mexican wrestling masks.

Like the mythical Sirens that lured sailors onto the rocks, go-go dancers in abbreviated red dresses writhed and wiggled atop podiums and along an iron-railed balcony that overlooked a dance space floored with a tattered rug.

In that upper tier, partiers relaxed on black leather seating in booths while a deejay threw out beats and the classic film “Barbarella” showed on a brick wall at one edge of the dance floor.

Heaping bowls of chips and salsa were everywhere you looked and in no short supply of hungry enjoyers. Hors d’oeuvres like tuna ceviche and grilled pork were also distributed in generous quantities to the consuming masses.

In less than an hour of opening, the room was SRO and people were two and three deep at the bar. Tequila drinks became a premium to obtain yet somehow large 20-ounce beers, which required no preparation, were smuggled across the border.

Couples huddled at intimate tables, foursomes fraternized and singles slunk through the crowd. Ceiling fans worked overtime to cool down this increasingly steamy crowd.

Dominique Marder, 32, from Greenwich, was glad to be out for the night. The mom of a young child remarked, “It’s a great scene, fun… a good time!”

Christian Friedrich, 35, of Norwalk, said Red Lulu reminded him of the vampire bar in HBO’s “True Blood” series. “It’s red, dark, sultry, sexy.” And he was loving the drink creations: “Excellent tequilas!”

Catalina Ramirez, 27, from Southport presently but Columbian-born, said, “Red Lulu is going to be the hit of South Norwalk. This place is going to be hot! And I think the crowd is going to be exclusive, which will be a plus.” 

A Blast From the Past: RenFaire Visits Bridgeport's Baldwin Park

“A Blast From the Past:

RenFaire Visits Bridgeport’s Baldwin Park”

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

8/27/10

Bridgeport, CT – They came. They saw. They made large swords out of tinfoil and cardboard and jousted on bicycles.

This was just one element of fun attendees of the 2^nd Annual RenFaire experienced from 6-10pm Thursday evening August 26 in Bridgeport’s Baldwin Park Plaza. The free “underground” medieval times-oriented event, promoted virally through social networking sites, was created and hosted by the Downtown Bridgeport Community Council (DCC), Melissa Bernstein and Jeff Mach.

“I just moved to New Haven and am starting to explore the local area. I heard about this and had to attend. I can’t wait to see the fire show!” said Emily (didn’t give last name), a fair-haired lass taking in all the sights and sounds.

The “fire show” she referred to was provided by an exotically dressed foursome that took turns swallowing fire, spraying fiery plumes from their mouths, interacting with flaming hula hoops and twirling balls of fire attached to chains. They performed at nightfall in the circular paved center of the plaza and had the rapt attention of all in attendance.

The center of the plaza had, at first, been occupied by life-sized Stonehenge blocks hand fashioned from brown paper and tubing. But windy gusts kept knocking them down so they were pulled back to the perimeter of the circle and mounted on existing metal posts. Later, people were given markers and permitted to graffiti the blocks.

Dominating one end of the grounds was a “Smite the Knight” attraction offering Faire-goers the opportunity to learn from and battle a “Knight of Gore” using a Nerf-like sword. Nearby, along a grassy strip, the aforementioned jousting took place, with “warriors” in homespun medieval outfits riding toward one another swinging their corrugated weapons of destruction.

At the other end of the plaza was t-shirt silkscreener Paradox, cranking out RenFaire ware on the spot using a simple wood frame, paints and an acetate template. Proprietor Liz “oohed” and “aahed” with each new creation, happily surprised with the results. As quick as she could produce these, fest attendees were purchasing them, also thrilled with the designs and desiring an event memento.

Liz was not the only designer onsite. Anyone with the gumption to take a piece of chalk in hand could test their talent drawing their own mural on the squares of the plaza. These were part of a competition to win modest cash prizes offered by a local art gallery.

“Mommy’s taking a long time with her chalk drawing!” protested 2-year-old Lily Dixon-Weekes about her mother Callie, who had really thrown herself into crafting one of these sidewalk designs.

Those that were not art-oriented could try out their musical talent on several drums, cymbals, penny flutes, guitars and other instruments offered for use. These were gratefully embraced by about a dozen people that managed to string together a beat and several enjoyable tunes.

This spontaneous music, as well as more structured folksy tunes provided by trio Bludrum, provided a good background for go-go dancing hula hoopers Veronica Vixen and Amy Irish to cruise about and do what they do. Others in attendance were just happy to relax in beach chairs, enjoy some food and drink, and look, chat and listen.

There was nothing evil about this medieval good time. Huzzah! 

Man About Town: Capturing Community Character

Man About Town: Capturing Community Character

(New column intro, ran in Fairfield-Citizen News Sept 3)

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

8/27/10

When Editor Gary Jeanfaivre and I met for coffee at downtown’s Las Vetas Café one recent late summer morning, the aim was to get to know each other a little better and figure out how my particular writing style and unique way of looking at the local scene might best work in a fine hometown paper like the Fairfield Citizen.

I had always thought there was a void when it came to reporting not news events necessarily but just the average goings-on of life in Fairfield. Sometimes, just what happens around us during the normal course of the day is news. Sitting for a spell at the local bookstore. Browsing through a gallery. Wine tasting at the corner liquor store. Dining at sunset at the beach. Strolling around Mohegan Lake as the fall colors begin to show themselves. Taking a car ride up by the reservoir.

By covering these average slices of Fairfield life, I hope to convey the certain vibe and wonderful privilege it is to live in this town. A buoyant energy. An amazing community spirit. A pride in who we are, how we conduct ourselves and how we enjoy our lives here. What’s it like to live in this town?

In this new column that, we hope with your support, will become a regular feature of the paper, I will answer that question. And I will do it through these vignettes and slices of local life. And as I encounter its citizenry, I will incorporate them as well.

I have lived in Fairfield for 14 years now. Raised two fine sons here who attend its high-caliber schools and benefit from its hard-working teachers. Seen the town change from a sleepy place with capes and cottages to a very vibrant and affluent shore-side hot spot. Mourned the loss of colorful retailers like Mercurio’s and the Fairfield Store but been thankful for the economic surge that new retailers have brought and recognize that change is inevitable.

Are there more qualified citizens to speak about Fairfield? Those with deeper memory banks or who are more integrated into the workings of this town? Sure, and I hope to profile them. But I feel I’m about as big a fan as you’ll find and, while I’ve cycled its streets, trod its beaches and walked its wooded areas, I continue to make new discoveries and find amazing points of interest.

As such, could the new column title – “Man About Town” – be more apt? Not only will I be speaking about Fairfield, but I will be out and about Fairfield. Where will I pop up next? What new stories and captures will I have to share with you?

My hope is to create a whole series of little images that when placed all together will form this gallery showcasing the area -- from the farthest northern reaches along the Easton border and eastern portions that abut Bridgeport, to the western border with our neighbor Westport and southern shoreline looking out on Long Island Sound. And through these images I hope to infect you with the same passion and positive spirit that I have come to know and, together, to champion this place to everyone we encounter.

So keep your eyes peeled as I file my reports from venues near and familiar. You never know where I’ll be next but you can bet I’ll be taking it all in and loving every minute of it. Cheers, Fairfield. Be catching you again soon. 

Whooo's Better Than Wildlife In Crisis?

Whooo’s Better Than Wildlife In Crisis?

(Ran Sept. 3 in Westport News paper & appeared online)

By Mike Lauterborn

© 2010. All Rights Reserved.

8/31/10

Greenwich, CT – They’re among the hardest working people in the wild animal rescue business, they do it all on a volunteer basis and their greatest reward is to see their clients return to their natural habitats.

On Sunday, August 29, the non-profit Wildlife in Crisis (WIC) organization held its annual fundraising event at the Greenwich Audubon Center. The highlight was the release back into the wild of two Great Horned Owls that had been rescued and rehabilitated at the Weston-based clinic.

The event was supported by Westport’s Black Bear Wines and Spirits, which was conducting a tasting and planned to contribute a portion of any wine sales. “Animals’ fearlessness and resilience to injury is an inspiration,” said Black Bear spokesperson Denise Iulo. “It is so important to protect wildlife in our community and the environments in which they live.”

Besides the wine, supporters, numbering over 100, enjoyed bottled and draught beer, hors d’oeuvres and other food provided by WIC volunteers. Forty-two items ranging in value from $25 to $10,000 were also donated for a silent auction while another 40 items were contributed to a raffle.

Jeff Schultz, CT Wine Director for importer Vinifera, coordinated Black Bear’s tasting table, just outside Kiernan Hall in the Audubon facility’s Kimberline Nature Center. “It’s white wine weather,” he’d decided, referring to the day’s clear blue skies and temperatures in the 80s. To that regard, Schultz poured a Sant’ Elena Sauvignon Blanc, of which only 900 cases are made annually, along with two fine Italian red wines.

From the wine station, paw print stencils on the floor led into the hall where the event, co-chaired by WIC volunteers Amy Jenner and Janice Vitale, was mainly concentrated. Amongst the merchandise tables, WIC foundation co-leader Peter Reid manned the beer bar. He explained, “WIC has been serving Fairfield County since 1988. My wife Dara founded the organization. Now we treat over 5,000 wild animals each year – everything from hummingbirds to white-tailed deer. The area is an attractive habitat for wildlife – coyotes, turkeys, even moose. As such, there’s a lot of potential for human/wildlife contact. Birds hit windows, fawns are orphaned, animals are hit by cars. Our mission is to ameliorate human/wildlife contact.”

When there is a harmful interaction, WIC nurtures and rehabilitates animals back into the wild. Private citizens and local philanthropic groups provide all funding, which goes directly to caring for wild animals in need and maintaining the organization’s 10-acre plot adjacent to Weston’s Devil’s Den preserve. The group operates an animal hospital/clinic with flight cages for owls and hawks, others for songbirds. Volunteers are high school interns, college recruits and local people passionate about animals.

“When someone finds an injured animal,” explained Reid, “they bring it to us. We’re set up for minor surgical procedures but work closely with South Wilton Veterinary Group for advanced surgeries and splinting. Then the animals are brought back to the center for recovery. Many have to be rehabilitated for months.”

Dr. Nick Sitinas heads up the South Wilton facility and was in attendance with three of seven of his staff doctors -- Diana Chung, Clare Fahy and Louisa Martin. As to why WIC has partnered with their group, Sitinas explained, “We’re one of the only board certified avian specialists in the area trained to deal with a wide variety of species. Shortly after we were established in 1994, Dara began bringing cases to us.”

Andrew Pollino, 13, was sad that his summer term as WIC’s youngest volunteer had ended. “I thought they could use extra help and Amy said she’d be delighted to have me. My first task was to re-mulch a path. By the end of the summer, I was handling squirrels, feeding birds and cleaning cages. It’s been so much fun to work with animals and has given me the idea to become a veterinarian.”

WIC volunteers Kate Backel, 22, Julie Schmidt, 60, and Anna Clark, 24, displayed WIC-branded fleece jackets, tees, hats and totes. Clark mentioned an injured baby crow she nurtured back to health during her internship at the Center. “He was in really rough shape when he arrived at WIC, and after several months of rehabilitation we were able to release him.”

Founder Dara Reid was very pleased with the turnout. “I’m grateful to everyone that came out to support us,” she said, presenting certificates of recognition to a few select volunteers and the South Wilton Veterinary Group for their assistance. She then encouraged the gathering to join her at the back of the building for the owl release.

From a second floor balcony, Reid took the first owl, orphaned as a baby, and set it free. It spread its massive wings and soared away over a tree line. Then she released the second owl, which Jenner had nicknamed Oscar. It took off over a field of wild daisies in the direction of the setting sun.

Looking on, WIC intern Laura Cummins, 21, commented, “The work we do is so meaningful and important. But when you finally get to see a release like this, that’s the true benefit of all our time and energy. This program has been the most amazing of my life!”