At the mouth of the Mystic River, Mason’s Island shelters mainland Connecticut from the storm surges of Long Island Sound. At the foot of Mason’s, eleven-acre Enders Island peers through the fog toward New York. Both islands are covered with boulders—glacial till from the Laurentide Ice Sheet which crowned this land 20,000 years ago.
Dr. Thomas B. Enders, son of an insurance giant, bought the island in 1910. In 1943, he died, and in 1954, his wife followed suit. Alys Van Gilder Enders left the island to the Society of Saint Edmund, which has tended it ever since.
The Edmundites host novitiates, religious retreats, sacred art workshops, cigar and spirits pairings, and AA meetings (presumably not at the same time as the cigar and spirits pairings). I have nothing but respect for 12-steppers, but twelve is a large number, and there’s only one step to taking a drink.
People come to Enders Island to atone, to reconnect with God, to better themselves. I’m here for the cigars and the view. I have nothing left to atone for.
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