Connecticut is a tiny little puzzle piece that is attached to Massachusetts and Rhode Island in a cardboard puzzle of the United States. My knowledge of Connecticut is a slim volume.
Connecticut is a street about 5 blocks south of me. Right past Hartford, which is named for the insurance company. We have many state streets here (so many times I hear, flippantly, from people afraid of the city: "Well, you don't live by state streets, do you?" and then I have to break it to them that I'm a half block from Arkansas. And that they are irritating me). Connecticut is one that isn't actually for the state. It's for the insurance company. It runs the wrong way to be a state street--they are north-south, while Connecticut is east-west.
Yes, Utah is east-west as well, but it's a tribal name. At one time we had two Kansas Streets. One for the state, one for the tribe.
Back to Connecticut. More than most states, I don't have much frame of reference on this. I don't know anyone who lives there or who is from there. I don't know anything there that I'm dying to visit or see. Cynthia Voigt started Homecoming there, which doesn't give me much to go on.
I know no stories about Connecticut from anyone I love or hate.
I don't know Connecticut.
Have I been there? No. Obviously.