A few days ago Rick skyped us from the Bahamas while we were crossing Massachusetts Bay. He suggested we could tuck into this perfect hurricane hole up the Connecticut River near Essex, Hamburg Cove. Wooded high bluffs 360 degrees.

Earl was a perfect gentleman. No untoward advances, no groping in the middle of the night. Not to impugn Earl's manhood, or the boys and girls at the National Hurricane Center but this was a non-event in Connecticut.