I toyed then with writing about leaving — so long, suckers — but I knew good and decent people for whom East Haven is home. They are working to turn the place into something beautiful. And — key point here — if that seaside burg wasn’t for me, I certainly wasn’t working shoulder to shoulder with people who were trying to improve it. Leaving was easier. I now live in a quirky little river valley village — my eighth Connecticut town since I came here — and it feels like home. I’m on the library board. I know my neighbors’ names, and the names of their pets. I put out a little effort.