Letter From Greenwich: Desegregate CT Meets Its Match in America’s Wealthiest Town
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Ever since I moved to Greenwich, Connecticut, folks back home like to ask me how my polo ponies are doing. It’s a joke, of course. In a place replete with private lanes, private clubs, and gracious-sounding enclaves like Belle Haven, my corner of town is lovingly referred to as “over by the Carvel,” because the ice cream shop, with its giant, dilapidated waffle-cone rooftop sign, is the closest landmark.
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