by C.C. Bass, Keeper of Brighton’s Conscience (Unofficial Historian. Official Collector of Other People’s Business.)
If you happened to wander through Candlewick Park last Friday evening, you may have wondered whether Brighton had suddenly been transported to Broadway.
The fundraiser dance lesson for The Good Shepherd drew a crowd that filled the dance floor, with everyone from teenagers to retirees attempting everything from the foxtrot to the jitterbug.
The surprise of the evening? Herb and Pru Antonucci.
Who knew those two could cut a rug like that? Herb even managed a dip that had half the crowd applauding and the other half wondering whether they should call the volunteer rescue squad.
Pru insists Herb practiced in the kitchen all week. Herb insists gravity was simply feeling generous. Either way, they stole the show.
Thanks to everyone who came out to support The Good Shepherd. Between the laughter, the music, and only a handful of stepped-on toes, it was a wonderful reminder that Brighton knows how to take care of its own.
Now for something considerably less cheerful.
Several residents have reported hearing rumors that a con artist may be making the rounds of neighboring towns—and perhaps even Brighton itself.
The stories all sound remarkably similar. A friendly stranger. An urgent financial problem. Promises of guaranteed investments. Pressure to act immediately.
Folks, no legitimate financial advisor has ever uttered the sentence, “Don’t tell your family.”
If someone asks for personal banking information, gift cards, wire transfers, or your life savings, politely show them the door. Then call the police.
Our older neighbors spent decades earning what they have. Let’s make sure they get to keep it.
If something doesn’t feel right, trust that little voice. It’s usually smarter than we are.
The village continues to wait for official word regarding the recent auction of The Good Shepherd on Rushton Road.
As of this writing, the identity of the successful bidder has not been announced publicly, leading to no shortage of speculation.
The leading theories currently include:
• A retired couple from Vermont.
• A developer from Boston.
• A celebrity seeking privacy.
• Three sisters pooling their inheritance.
• Agatha Brody, who insists this rumor is “ridiculous” despite refusing to explain why she suddenly started reading books about real estate.
Until someone steps forward, Brighton waits. And wonders.
The zucchinis in neighbors’ gardens have officially entered the “feeds an entire village” phase of summer. If you find a bag of the squashes on your front porch, you know why.
The ducks at Brighton Lake continue to ignore every posted sign regarding proper pedestrian etiquette. Please do not feed them. It makes them too aggressive for the younger children.
The carousel at Candlewick Park remains the happiest place in town, unless you’re the parent trying to convince a five-year-old that one more ride really does mean one more ride.
Fireflies have begun appearing around the lake at dusk. Take a moment to enjoy them. Summer never lasts as long as we think it will.
I’ve been thinking lately about how curious we humans are.
When we’re children, we can’t wait to become adults. When we’re adults, we spend a small fortune trying not to look older. And when our parents and grandparents begin collecting birthdays, we quietly tuck them away where we don’t have to think about what they’re becoming—or what we’re becoming right behind them.
It’s a shame.
The older folks in Brighton remember winters that buried cars, dances that lasted until sunrise, and neighbors who never locked their doors. They remember heartbreak. Wars. Babies born. Businesses built. Friends buried. Second chances that seemed impossible until they happened.
That’s not clutter from another era. That’s a library. And libraries are meant to be visited.
Perhaps this month, instead of asking Google for every answer, we might ask someone who’s lived long enough to have one. You may discover that wisdom doesn’t always arrive in on a phone. Sometimes it comes with silver hair, sensible shoes, and a story that begins... “Have I ever told you about the summer of 1968?”
Pull up a chair. You might learn something worth remembering.
Until next month...
Keep your porch lights on, your pie crust flaky, and your heart open!
— C.C. Bass
Sylvie Kurtz’s Brighton Village series captures all of it: the romances that sneak up on you, the mysteries that won’t let you rest, and the community that holds it all together. Love in Brighton Village and A Brighton Village Cozy Mystery — two series, one village, endless reasons to stay.
The Brighton Bulletin
A newsletter from the world of Sylvie Kurtz’s Brighton Village series.
You’re receiving this because you love Brighton as much as C.C. does.
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