The COVID pandemic strained communities around the globe, and Concord was no exception. We watched as friends and neighbors struggled with loss, illness, and financial crisis. We lost friends and loved ones of our own. And in our beautiful town, we saw shops and restaurants that had been a part of the town’s fabric for decades shutter their doors forever. The call for help was loud and clear.
A week before Thanksgiving 1917, the Concord Enterprise printed a letter from a young Maynard man named Hugh Connors. The United States had entered the First World War seven months earlier, and Connors had shipped out with New England Sawmill Unit No. 3, a team of American lumbermen stationed in Scotland.1 “I am writing this letter in bed,” he wrote, “as I have been laid up for a week with the grippe. Over here they call it influenza,” he added, as if translating a foreign word. “I am not at the hospital, but have engaged a room about five minutes’ ride by bicycle, from our camp.”2
