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A new book highlighting the seafaring tradition of Dan’s adoptive state proves to be the antithesis of a long conference call.

My boss wouldn’t love to hear this, but I first cracked open the book Connecticut Waters by Caryn B. Davis while on an unnecessarily long conference call. It’s been a long, long winter in my adoptive state of Connecticut; Davis’ photos immediately transported me to the Long Island Sound in summer, where I lingered for a while.

Connecticut is a funny state. Before moving here, I lived in New York and then Rhode Island. For most of my life the postage-stamp-size parcel of land was something I tried to get through as quickly as possible while cruising I-95. Only when I moved here for my first job with Power & Motoryacht did I learn about the rich seafaring heritage of the Nutmeg State. Davis’ photos and short stories bring that heritage to the forefront.


As I delved deeper and deeper into the coffee-table book, I traveled to the many spots on the Connecticut River that have come to hold a special berth in my heart. Last year was my first boatless summer since moving to Connecticut. Connecticut Waters made me miss the boat and the River. I could see it in my mind: My old boat swinging on its mooring, with a blue paddleboard on the starboard side. The river flat as glass, the grill hanging off the starboard rail. The memory was so real, I swear it looked as clear as if it was printed right there on the paper.

I was about the flip the page as my call droned on, until I realized, wait a minute, it’s not just my wild imagination—that is my former boat on page 164. My stories and photos run in print all the time, but I still felt like a celebrity. I rushed upstairs to show my wife the photo. A photo is normally worth a 1,000 words, but to me, that one was worth a million.

I’m really glad to have gotten a copy of Connecticut Waters when I did. It brought back some powerful memories and got me excited about the parts of my state still left to discover. I was pasting some Post-it Notes on the pages of future destinations when I was slapped back to reality. “Dan, are you there?” came the voice on the conference call. “Ahhhhh, yeah, sorry. I was on mute.”