A neighborhood cul-de-sac turned into a murky lake. Who’d they call? Each other

On a dreamy August morning in our quiet Cromwell neighborhood, my husband Ken and I were sipping our first cappuccinos and settling in to read the newspaper.

Then the phone rang.

I answered, but didn’t recognize the voice because it was low and gravelly. It was our barely awake neighbor, Jonathan, who’d been awakened by another neighbor, Kay. She’d seen from her driveway that our cul-de-sac was covered in water.

Jonathan is a go-to guy, so he made his way there and observed water gushing from a spot just off the paved area. That’s when he called us. We put on our shoes and headed his way. Water was indeed spreading in muddy streaks across the cul-de-sac.

The three of us rushed to the pumphouse and turned off the valve we believed to be the one involved. That action slowed the leak to a trickle. Soon, another sleepy neighbor, Thomas joined us and the troubleshooting began. Who to call? How serious was the leak? Was it just one pipe?

Folks thought using a backhoe would be overkill, so Ken called our well consultant, Evan, to see if he knew anybody who could do some digging without a backhoe. Evan did not have anyone available, so we decided to try doing it ourselves. In the meantime, I checked with the neighbors to let them know about the water stoppage.

Our 30-something son, Zach had already left for work, but we called him and he was able to return home to help. Soon the digging began. Jonathan, Zach and Thomas took turns with the pick and shovel. Ken, whose bad back kept him from participating, sat nearby and offered advice and moral support. It was hard work and I was grateful that these men were handling the problem. On my way to run errands — buying some drinking water being one of them — I stopped by and took pictures of them working away in the morning sun. Sweat dripped from their faces, and mud splattered everywhere.

Although it was a loathsome task, it was pleasing to see them together: digging, pointing, reaching into the hole and scooping out the water, then digging again. I got to hear a bit of their manly banter about who was the strongest, and chuckled to myself. Neighbors Kay, Berit, and Lida came by to see how things were progressing and to offer their support.

When I returned from the store, the guys explained that they had located the broken pipe four feet deep, and were pondering how to repair it. Should they do it this way or that way? Once they reached a consensus, Jonathan and Thomas headed to the hardware store to buy needed parts, while my two men came up to the house for a lunch break.

Soon work resumed, and by late in the afternoon, the pipe was repaired. We opened up the valve. Success! Water was flowing inside the pipes again. We waited a couple of days to make sure we’d solved the problem. Then I happened upon Thomas in the cul-de-sac, who’d taken it upon himself to shovel the dirt back into the hole. Not a trivial task.

It was great to experience such neighborly cooperation, and to realize that if we all work together toward a common solution we can truly solve problems. It was also a reminder of how precious water is, not only for our day-to-day needs, but for our survival. If it was tough for our small neighborhood to lose water for a day, it’s hard to picture those entire towns we hear about that have run completely dry.

Reach columnist Mary Magee at marymagee@harbornet.com.