“My town is many things to many people. While some clink glasses over a well appointed festive dinner table, others are cold dipping in the frigid mountain waters. Some are trying to recover from illness, and battling loneliness, feeling forgotten; others float in a timeless oasis of familial love & affection. There are kitchen stove tops bubbling with calendula blossoms, for skin cream manufacture; there are yards filled with glowing, plastic Santas & reindeer. Many are glued to electronic devices, arguing politics, maybe angrily, while being cooked for and fed sumptuously from larders fit for kings. While others, across town, are opening a can of soup, and wishing the new year would get on with it, and normalcy return, whatever that is. Vacation rentals bring another layer, of eager, enthusiastic, albeit temporary residents. They are shaking the snow off their hats, as they clomp into a general store, marveling at the magic of being in real Vermont, & at finding a place to buy Sushi-to-go, in the seeming wilderness. Some have to go to work: nurses, waitresses, snow plow drivers and many others who do things we hardly notice until we need them. A lone skier crosses the parking lot of the town offices. A flock of turkeys flies up in front of my truck, slowing me to a crawl, while someone in a big hurry, passes me, unconcerned. I have to remind myself, that I have important things to do also. My pace is not about being female, or old, or a bad driver. I just really like living in a place where you can stop in the middle of the road to salt your sandwich. One person who retired here in the 1990s, had a dancing school that was bombed and destroyed in Germany, during WW2. More than a few, worked for the CIA. A few used to have successful dairies, and herds of healthy cows. One was a brilliant, closeted gay man who lived alone in a cabin with no amenities other than those he invented, until he had to move to town, when his health failed. One who in his early years skied over the mountain gap to get to work, still bartends at that same ski area. A lawyer or two married their secretaries, and moved to the Caribbean. A man who shot our dogs out of spite, then burned some buildings down, and killed someone is still in prison, all these many, many years later.This is our town. We have more than our fair share of do-gooders, municipal servants, selfless angels and hidden gems. It’s really exactly like every town. Except that outside this town, there lies a mysterious, wild country, that few have truly explored. I guess you can’t have one, without the other.”
