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On the way back from New Haven we were driving along
the Housatonic. It was a beautiful day. We stopped to
have dinner but the restaurants at the river’s edge
turned out not to be restaurants at all but dark,
run-down bars with, curiously, no views of the river.
So we drove on to Newtown, where we saw many cars
parked around a restaurant that appeared to have a
Colonial atmosphere. I said, “All those cars are a
good sign. Let’s eat there.” When we got in,
we were in a large dining room with very few other
people eating. The waitress seemed slightly
giddy. David Tudor ordered some ginger ale, and
after quite a long time was served some Coca-Cola,
which he refused. Later we both ordered
parfaits; mine was to be chocolate, his to be
strawberry. As the waitress entered the kitchen,
she shouted, “Two chocolate parfaits.” When
David Tudor explained to her later that he had ordered
strawberry, she said, “They must have made some
mistake in the kitchen.” I said, “There must be
another dining room in this building with a lot of
people eating in it.” The waitress said, “Yes.
It’s downstairs and there are only two of us for
each floor and we keep running back and forth.”
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