MILLERTON — Kids Time, Millerton’s longtime indoor play space, has closed for good after more than two decades as a staple of childhood birthdays and family celebrations.
Owner Ken Thompson shut the doors Sunday, Feb. 8, after hosting the final birthday party at the once-bustling Route 44 attraction. The business, which Thompson built and ran largely on his own since opening in 2006, had slowed in recent years and was no longer financially sustainable, he said.
Thompson, who owns the commercial building that also houses Avocado Cafe, Millerton Athletic Club and a beer store, said he explored downsizing and other options before ultimately deciding to close.
“It was never about the money,” Thompson said. “It was about the kids and the joy on their faces — you can’t put a dollar amount on that.”
Families came to Kids Time for birthday parties and open play, drawn to the colorful maze of slides, mats and climbing features Thompson built and maintained himself. Children who visited him knew him simply as “Mr. Ken,” and he was rarely without small rituals — including a basket of lollipops offered to kids on their way out.
A view through a porthole on the custom-made jungle gym that Ken Thompson built for his business, Kids Time. Thompson shuttered the business after 20 years on Sunday, Feb. 8, after hosting one last party.Photo by Aly Morrissey
For some families, the final party marked a generational full-circle moment.
“I brought my kids here when it was in the bigger space, and now they are grown up and have been bringing their own kids,” said Tilly Strauss, who celebrated her grandchild’s first birthday at Kids Time on Sunday. “We’re really going to miss this place.”
For Thompson, those generational moments reflected the persistence and determination that defined both his business and his own life.
The fastest way to get Thompson to do something, he said, is to tell him he can’t — a stubborn streak that once pushed him to buy his own bicycle at age nine and later to hand-build and run Kids Time as a one-man operation for more than 20 years.
A mechanic by trade, Thompson said he never imagined the turn his life would take when he purchased the large commercial building on Route 44. At the time, he learned it was the only property in Millerton zoned for children’s recreation — a detail he overheard at a town meeting.
“I thought, ‘What kind of person would I be if I had a space for kids and didn’t give back to local families with children,’” Thompson recalled.
He waited more than a year for approvals before letting his imagination take over. Thompson spent months transforming the industrial space into an indoor world designed for children to jump, bounce, climb and slide.
Even in the earliest stages, he involved kids in the process. Thompson ran a logo design contest in his daughter’s fourth-grade classroom and said he was thrilled when one student incorporated a clock — an image that became the Kids Time logo for the next 20 years.
“It was brilliant,” Thompson said. “I had never thought of that before.”
Ken Thompson, center, emerges from a red slide at his kid's party and play business in Millerton. Thompson intends to donate the red slide to the Village of Millerton to use in the playground at Eddie Collins Memorial Park on North Elm Street.Photo by Aly Morrissey
After more than a year of sourcing play equipment, painting, repairing ceiling tiles and doing the physically demanding work himself, Thompson finally opened the doors to Kids Time in the spring of 2006.
“It was a complete dud,” he said, laughing.
His business partner at the time decided to leave and move back to Arizona, Thompson said, leaving him to buy out the business and run it alone. Then, almost unexpectedly, families began to show up.
At its peak, Thompson said he was booking as many as six birthday parties a day — all of which he ran himself.
“My pockets were stuffed with cash,” he recalled.
Kids Time operated for years as a weekend destination for local families until the COVID-19 pandemic upended normal operations. Thompson survived the shutdowns and later downsized to a smaller space — a move he handled on his own — but the business never fully returned to what it once was.
Still, Thompson said he will always look back on Kids Time — which he called “the best job in the world” — with pride and fondness.
“It was a life-changing experience,” he said. “I wish I could keep it going.”
Thompson’s daughter, KT, thanked her father publicly for the space he created.
“Thank you for building me the coolest place in the world, for being the best dad anyone could ask for and for leaving a lasting mark on all of us through your kindness, dedication and joy,” she said.
As the final birthday party wound down Sunday afternoon, Thompson invited guests to take pieces of Kids Time home — climbing mats of all shapes, colors and sizes — free of charge.
“I’m just happy they’ll have a new home,” Thompson said, visibly moved by the idea that pieces of Kids Time would continue to bring joy and play to children elsewhere.
Thompson has also offered Kids Time’s iconic red slide to the Village of Millerton and hopes it can be incorporated into the playground at Eddie Collins Memorial Park.
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Each piece makes a gift, a note or even a Christmas tree seem more personal, more considered, and more connected to humanity. Since then, demand for her personalized, hand-lettered tags, ornaments and cards has only grown, appearing in mailboxes across the region and at shops like the Cornwall Whale and Marton & Davis in Chatham, New York. Her precision is remarkable, and to watch her create these one-of-a-kind pieces is an art all unto itself.
In recent months, we’ve seen a deluge of stories on digital replacement. Data managers, bankers and even therapists are being replaced by computer programs in mass waves of layoffs. But what many still find surprising about the proliferation of nonhuman competitors in the job market is how it’s affecting the arts. Illustrators, animators, photographers, musicians and even on-screen actors are being supplanted by bots touted as “artificial intelligence agents.”
But calligraphy — and handwriting in general — has been in the crosshairs of mechanical progress for centuries. There was a time, if you can believe it, when writing anything required ink, paper and sometimes even a living, breathing human scribe. No typewriters, no word processors, no voice-to-text programs.
Then came Gutenberg’s printing press. Sure, it changed the world for the better, ensuring a greater distribution of ideas, and helping spark some of the most important political movements in history. But it also marked one of the first moments when technology replaced the artistic work of the human hand. Over the centuries, printers, designers and technologists have continued to innovate. Today, with Photoshop or Illustrator, an entire universe of alphabets exists, from ornate and embellished to precise and futuristic — all designed to replace the human hand.
Melissa Gamwell, crafting custom Valentine’s Day cards in her office in Cornwall. Kevin Greenberg
Yet, despite this centuries-long assault from technology, Gamwell has found her own way to thrive. Largely self-taught, she combines her drawing and industrial design background with an old-school New England childhood in Maine that involved “very tangible, hands-on, creative problem-solving using many materials.” Raised by “parents who loved antiquarian books, often filled with hand-written dedications,” hers was the kind of upbringing in which “traditional practices were cherished and flaunted” — a time and place with “hand-painted lettering on churches, street signage, the stones in beautiful churchyard cemeteries, and log books.”
Those early impressions have stayed with her, heightening her appreciation of sometimes overlooked details.
“There’s so much ephemera floating around with traces of beautiful handwriting to see everywhere, even now in Connecticut,” she said.
Even in a digital age, she keeps technology at a distance.
“You will not find ChatGPT on my phone, and you will usually not find my phone on me,” she said. Instead, she opts for a notebook, a scrap of paper or the back of a receipt. Sometimes, she goes even further, gathering black walnuts from trees on her property to make the specialized ink for her practice.
Gamwell’s approach to her craft is also philosophical. “There is no better feeling than working through something with your own brain and your own hands, even if you find it less exemplary than you would hope. And it only uses the water you’re already consuming. Do you need to convey an idea? Draw it, however horrific or childish. Write it, even if you never learned proper grammar — because you’ve always had programs do it,” she said.
“Sometimes I think that everything I like is ‘historic’ but it’s really that I just find more value in the traditional methods, which are still alive and well, and desperately in need of stewards for the future.”
After nearly 400 years of pressure, it’s encouraging to see handwriting — an art form that once seemed destined for obsolescence — still thriving, one careful stroke at a time. And thanks to Gamwell, perhaps there’s a new generation of observers, collectors and future calligraphers ready to carry it forward.
D.H. Callahan is a voice actor, creative director and trail steward. He lives with his wife, artist Lane Arthur, in West Cornwall, Connecticut.
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