My Love Letter to Bridgeport, Connecticut
We have entered single digits, just nine days left on this journey that has taken us to a plethora of places including three of my former homes: Boston, Orlando and Los Angeles (in three parts: 1, 2 and 3). It’s time to take you back to where it all started, and where it’s currently happening — Bridgeport, Connecticut.
For 28 of my very, very, nearly 40 years of living, I’ve proudly called Bridgeport home. As you’ve certainly figured out by now, these were not 28 consecutive years. There’s 12 years in between, ages 17 to 29, where I took my talents to the three cities above.
Those 12 years away helped shape my perspective on Bridgeport. Joni Mitchell never lies, you don’t know what you got ’til it’s gone. Sure, Bridgeport doesn’t have the weather, the entertainment industry, and the beaches of Los Angeles. Or the esteemed institutions of higher learning, the walkability and public transportation of Boston. Or the theme parks and only the theme parks of Orlando. It didn’t matter. None of those places were home.
I love Boston. I love Los Angeles. I…know Orlando is a place I lived briefly. But with Bridgeport…it’s more than love. It’s more than just a part of me. It’s what makes me, me.
In 2010, when it was time to come home, I suddenly felt like a tourist in my hometown. And I loved it. I wanted to go to all the places and see all the things I missed. While I was out doing all of this, however, I was hoping that I wouldn’t run into anyone I knew. I didn’t want to answer any questions about why I was back home. Although it was perfectly reasonable to say that a financial crisis caused me to lose my job and after giving it a go in a very expensive city with no income besides an unemployment check, I still felt anxious about what people would think when they saw me back in Bridgeport.
I’m not sure how or when this started, but for some reason, as a young man I believed that in order to feel like you made it, you had to get out of Bridgeport. And I wasn’t alone in those thoughts. Just saying I lived in Los Angeles, despite the fact that I was working long hours for not a lot of money when I started out, gave my friends and family back home the impression that I was doing well for myself.
All because I got out of Bridgeport.
Looking back on it now, as someone who has spent the last ten years here on my second stint in Bridgeport, I know that that’s not true. Now, I wouldn’t go back in time and trade my experiences of living in these other places for anything, other than to have a little more time with my father. But I wish I wouldn’t have felt like everything in my life was riding on whether I got out of Bridgeport, or not.
And speaking of my father, that’s where my passion from Bridgeport comes from. Gary Hammill, Sr. grew up in public housing in the P.T. Barnum Apartments, graduated from Bassick High School and got himself into the esteemed Culinary Institute of America. Like me, my father also moved away, landing in Florida to take his first job as a chef. And also like me, he ended up right back in Bridgeport.
His service to his neighbors, his love for the city and his immense popularity among fellow Park City residents earned him the nickname, “the mayor of Bridgeport.” It was only fitting that my first job when I moved back home in 2010, would be working for the actual mayor of Bridgeport, former Mayor Bill Finch.
It was during this time; working countless hours, communicating with residents both online and in-person, seeing new developments from inception to ribbon cutting and every step in between, that my passion for Bridgeport reached new levels.
I think that comes from knowing that my work made my father proud. I know he was proud of my work in Los Angeles, but I’m not entirely sure he understood what I was doing. To be fair, I was 3,000 miles away and public relations isn’t exactly the easiest of professions to fully grasp. Now, I was right in front of his face, and the things I was working on were in that newspaper he read every single morning — Connecticut Post.
On the evening of December 1, 2011, Mayor Finch was sworn in for a second term at a big, formal ceremony. He and I worked together for quite bit on the speech he’d give that night to lay out his vision for a second term. I was probably more nervous than he was going into the night.
About halfway through the ceremony, before it was time for the speech, I got a call.
My father, who had been battling stage four lung cancer since early May, was heading back into the hospital. I left the ceremony early and headed up to the hospital. This would be the final time he was sent to the hospital. Eight days later, on December 9, my father passed away. But not before seemingly everyone in the city he loved made their way up to his room to pay their final respects to the honorary mayor of Bridgeport.
All I had to do to realize that I didn’t need to get out of Bridgeport to feel like a success to just look at him. He did it all right here. And so can I.
Tim Hammill is a communications professional in the nonprofit sector. He’s turning 40 on October 20, 2020. He’s writing about the final stretch to this milestone age in 40 Days to 40, a collection of stories, thoughts, reflections and whatever else comes to mind each day. In addition to writing a blog, Tim has also decided to donate his birthday to This Is My Brave, an organization he very recently learned about that brings stories of mental illness and addiction out of the shadows and into the spotlight. If you’d like to support Tim’s birthday fundraiser, go here.
Additionally, there are three other organizations that are close to Tim’s heart: Save the Children, Stand Up To Cancer and the Bridgeport YMCA. Click on each to learn more and to support their work.
