It was the holiday party for the staff of the Town of Woodbridge, along with board and committee members. Seventy or eighty people gathered in a small Italian Restaurant down in the flats. They had their cocktails, ate their appetizers and main courses and chatted. In the background there was music; a lot of it from a generation ago.

I sat with my wife, whose grandparents had lived for many years in Woodbridge. Her grandfather had done a lot of stuff for the town; I think it was in public works and as part of the volunteer fire department. Some of the folks there remembered Joe. They talked fondly of the great work he did and how he treated everyone with respect.

Kim commented about how some of the music include songs her grandfather would sing to her and about how he most be pleased to have old friends telling kind stories about him to his grand daughter and her husband who are now both on town commissions.

Joe had lived near the golf course and had sledded on the hills when he was young. Now, people were talking about the referendum and what would happen next to the golf course.

Kim had to leave early to pick up Fiona and I quickly followed suit. I need to be up early tomorrow. I don't know if anyone got up to say kind words to all the people that help make the town run as smoothy as it does, both the employees as well as people serving on boards and commissions.

Yet they should be praised, for it carries with it an echo of old New England Towns where people worked hard together to make sure everything ran smoothly and everyone was properly cared for. It was an echo of a New England town where my wife's grandfather did his tasks to make a mark, and where everyone can follow in his footsteps.