To the Editor:

In spite of my negative opinion of gambling, I have to admit Foxwoods is beautiful. There are sculptures and floral arrangements everywhere and the buildings and grounds are immaculate. Even with all the construction going on, the place is neater than my writing desk.

I did a lot of walking around, admiring the waterfalls, checking out the gift shops. I hope to explore the Pequot Museum in the near future.

I marveled at the acres of lush carpeting and thought about the enormous profits some broadloom manufacturer must be enjoying. “I love the color scheme!” I gushed when I’m in a good mood. “The aquamarines and shades of purple are my favorites.”

“Then you are enjoying yourself,” Joe said hopefully.

“It beats getting up at the crack of dawn to ride a creaky old bus to Atlantic City,” I retorted.

“I take it you like Foxwoods better than Lincoln Downs,” he said with a smirk.

“There’s no contest,” I answered, recalling the afternoon we went there. The place was dark and dismal and everyone was smoking – or so it seemed. After two minutes, I said, “Let’s get out of here. This place is like a gas chamber. People who gamble with their money also gamble with their health.”

“You said the same things about the new gaming room at Jai Alai and about the Indian bingo in Tampa,” Joe reminded me.

“I can’t repeat it often enough,” I said. “From what I read in the papers, we will soon be surrounded by casinos. If they want to attract some of us low rollers, who can and will spend money in their restaurants and shops, they’ll have to spend enough to do it right, or we won’t go.”

“Not even long enough to say ‘Kill-Joy was here,’” Joe agreed.

Rosetta M. Desrosiers

Warwick