More Trenchant Observations About Vermont - Stowe

Stowe, As Revealed In The Library - Esp. the Volunteers

I paid ten dollars this fall as an out-of-towner to get privileges to borrow books from the Stowe Library. The building began life as the district school in 1863 and was used as the high school until 1973. Now it houses the library on the ground floor and the Helen Day Art Center upstairs. I love libraries. I have library cards in Newport, North Troy, Burlington and the University of Vermont (that one cost me $40 for the year). The one I use most now is Stowe. Partly this is because I have time on my hands when I am in Stowe. (I'm waiting for the kids' school day to finish before driving nearly the hour it takes to get back to the Last House). I also especially like this library because the librarians have a very pleasant way about them. Isn't it the case that the librarians set the tone for a library? They are almost always a pleasure to deal with although you run across the occasional lazy one or stickler for the rules - no overdue fine forgiven types.

I have been careful to return things to Stowe on time, but the once or twice when a DVD was a day overdue, no one asked me to pony up the dollar. In Stowe, they also have a lot of materials that I really want to access - books on CD, DVDs and all the best kids books. Everything about it is nice. I also find it interesting, sociologically speaking. Stowe, as anyone who lives in any part of the real (i.e, "poor") parts of Vermont, is a place apart, and this is revealed in its library - especially the volunteers.

There are, apparently, a contingent of older ladies (one or two men, perhaps) in Stowe who are seeking out opportunities to get out of the house in a purposeful manner. There is a dire need for volunteer labor in a lot of unpleasant places, guardians ad litem in child custody and abuse cases, for instance, jails, hospitals; but one needs a kind of vocation for that stuff (I don't know if I would have the stomach for it myself). Who can blame these ladies for choosing the library as the beneficiaries of their extra time? I get the sense, having observed one or two occasions of chit-chat across the circulation desk between a volunteer and a friend, that there is a network of these ladies who have made themselves available to the library. I am sure there are times when they are very useful - perhaps during the annual summer book sale when they can man the cash box on the front porch where all the books are.

What does it all mean? Stowe has a contingent of retirees who once lived somewhere else - "people from away" as the natives say. These are retirees of means. They read. Of course, there are nice older ladies all over Vermont, but the native (working) classes are not so likely to give their golden years to the library. They are mitten-tree knitters, fire house a auxiliary; they staff bingo at the VFW; they cook church suppers. Those with a literary bent might submit rhyming poetry to the local paper. The Stowe volunteers are a different breed.

I get the sense that there is a surplus of library volunteers in Stowe. My theory is that this is due, at least in part, as a fundraising strategy of the Board of Directors at the Stowe Library. In a former life, I worked in fundraising for a university and rounding up voulnteers for alumni events was step one on getting them to write a check. Good manners no doubt also plays a part. When someone offers to come in and help out, it would be rude (and bad for your annual appeal to the taxpayers at budget time) if you say "no". I heard one lady asking for an application for voulunteering. So that's how they handle the crush, I thought. Make them apply and commit to something.

When I go in the library it seems always to have at least two paid staffers and one volunteer at work. The need for all this fire power is not apparent. The library is generally not very busy at mid day during the week. I always hope that when it comes time to check out, I can deal with the paid person. There is usually a volunteer at the circ desk sitting next to the pro. I go for the pro, but the volunteer jumps in: "I can help you." They are regularly flummoxed by my out-of-town card and by requests to renew materials that I already have out. They often have to ask the librarian how to handle these matters. I returned a DVD once, on time, and was told when I next visited the library that it was overdue. I went and found it on the shelf. I smell a volunteer.

Snow, ice, runny eyes

February came in like a lion today in Northern Vermont - snow, hail, freezing rain, you name it we had it today. The forecast was so dire last night that I made the mistake of telling the kids there might not be school today. Kid 2 claimed a stuffy nose when I told him it hadn't been cancelled (I've been battling something nasty for 10 days). I gave him a reprieve. He seems fine tonight.

The February blahs are hard to beat here on the US/Canadian border when we have this kind of whether. When the sun comes out it is so beautiful, and we get great sunsets - but when you're sick and trapped inside and the house is a mess and the kids have been penned up all day, well, you get the picture.

Here's a picture I took on a brighter day last weekend.

Life in the Midst of Winter

The Bible says "in the midst of life you are in death." No doubt, but our OT prophets didn't mention, or maybe they did, obliquely or in some passage I haven't seen, that in the midst of death you are in life - that seems like the lesson for today - the most beautiful winter Saturday we have had these last punishing months.

Strange that bright winter days are for me more, what's the word? "alive" than the most smiling, blooming day in June. I think that's why I love to get out into the woods around here, especially in January and February. Once we have passed the shortest days and the sun shines in the woods, even though everything is still locked in snow there is this sense of life invisible informing every atom of the air. I know what Gerard Manley Hopkins meant when he wrote, "there lives the dearest freshness deep down things."

On a less exalted note, my 43rd year commenced yesterday. I worked for most of the day but left early because I was feeling not well. Some virus has been contending with my white blood cells for days and the conflict has not yet been resolved with a clear winner. Mom sent me a turtleneck, that I am now wearing. She and my sister called. Last weekend, in NY, Dad and Stepmom got me a birthday cake. Woolfoot Husband brought another one from the great bakery in Mansonville, Quebec last night. Kids sang happy birthday to me in the morning, unbidden. Not bad overall.

I am attaching a couple of pictures I took about 10 minutes ago to give you some idea of what I am talking about.

Here's a link (I hope it works) to Manley's famous poem. "God's Grandeur." http://www.bartleby.com/122/7.html

Back Home - Birthdays, etc.

Back home at the Last House after MLK weekend in the place of my birth, Albany County New York. Kids and I visited with my Dad and his wife. Dad and I had a good time playing with Google Earth on his big computer. Google Earth is a great tool for planning my coming trip to England. We zoomed in on the hotel where we will be staying (the sattelite view permits one to see the cars on the street!). I used the "ruler" tool to measure the distance from the hotel (Kensington Hilton Olympia) to Kensington Palace (about a half a mile) and to the London Eye, Westminster, etc. (about 3 miles) and generally get the lay of the land. Planning this trip has become my number-one pass time. I'm a little worried I'll wind up like the astronaut Buzz Aldrin, who famously decompensated when he got back from the moon - i.e., "now what?" I guess it's good the Woolfoot family is planning on getting a dog in the spring. That will be something to look forward to on our return.

I left my camera in the car during this weekend so no new pics. of the family in NY. By way of an update, we did have a big sleepover party for Kid 1 the weekend before last. She's 10! Three girls from Burlington came for the night along with two neighbor kids. I think it went very well for the kids. Kid 1 was certainly happy. My own birthday looms on Friday. 43! How did this happen?

Happy New Year!

More snow on the Vermont/Quebec border this New Year's Day. The Woolfoot family spent New Year's Eve in typical style - at home and in bed by 9:30. I guess it would have been nice to have been invited to a party... Oh well. It was snowing New Year's Eve and I am developing a dread of driving on snowy roads.

We braved them this morning however. I got the kids up and dressed and the three of us went off to Jay Peak for a little family snow shoeing. It was idyllic back there.

After some hot chocolate and four-dollar Ben & Jerry ice cream bars in the Jay Peak cafeteria we went down to my beloved Degre Auction House in Westfield, Vermont. The kids were wonderful, ensconced on an old couch they let me watch the proceedings for about two hours. $250 later, I was the owner of two old prints and a complete set of the works of Charles Dickens. Then it was off to Newport to get some stuffed animals (a reward) and groceries. The Hallmark store was closed, to the deep disappointment of Kid 1. Wendy's burgers were on the menu and a quick trip to RJs Friendly Market, then home. Not a bad New Year's Day. Woolfoot husband saved the salmon that was nearly incinerated under the broiler, and, here I am with my report. I'll try to post a little video. Best wishes to all.

P.S. More Woolfoot Reviews and Cosumer Guidance:

I see I promised back on December 16 to tell you what I thought of the soundtrack to The Golden Compass movie. I like it a lot - esp. Kate Bush's single. Of course, she can hardly do any wrong as far as I'm concerned, but I never give anybody a pass. Kids and I saw the movie in Montreal this week. A near-hopeless muddle, as must be expected given the complexity of the story. I enjoyed it anyway because it had been so beautifully realized - and because the girl playing Lyra was really great.

On this point of "realization," the French have a phrase for "producer," (I think): "Réalisateur" - the one who makes a thing out of the idea. I have observed that many mega-budget movies seem to have some brilliant realizers, who design costumes, create effects, choose locations, light scenes, what have you. They are so wonderful in the Harry Potter movies and in TGC - they made the books "real" - but the stories don't live up to their gorgeousness. I guess that's the problem of the writer and director.

Christmas Vacation Lingers On

I went early this morning, as is my wont, for a hike on the snowshoe trails at Jay Peak. For the first time ever, a Jaykie (someone on the payroll) stopped me before I got started and asked me to walk on the sides of the trail. Of course, I wouldn't walk in the set x-country ski tracks... Not sure what this was about except that I felt like this kid wanted me to have a trail pass. In my feeble defense, I had asked about one a few weeks ago, before a previous hike, and the ski desk people said "nevermind". Of course, that was a few weeks ago and maybe now they want their coin. The trail, as you will see, has been groomed and I guess they are really trying to get their nordic business going. It was clear that they are getting more traffic. Not good for me but I guess that's not something that worries the management. I feel now for the first time like I stole my walk this morning.

Oh dear. And it was a Sunday.

The Woolfoot family has been home for most of the last week and it's getting a little tedious. I was going to head down to the fabulous Capital District of New York (of which I am a native) but the weather has been so crumby the last the few weeks that I haven't wanted to risk the drive. Kids and I did go to Montreal last week for an overnight. We were there on Boxing Day and joined every person in the province of Quebec on St. Catherine St. Whoo.

I have left a few loose ends on some old postings that I really must go back and write about. Before I do that, however, here's another "note to self": do an essay called, "I Really Don't Want to See You" about how we have all these old friends and family members that we talk to or touch base with periodically but how we really don't have the desire to actually see. them. I am mentally captioning the big picture above (that I took today), "Old Friends." I took off my gloves and put them on my poles to take the picture of the trees. Then, I thought, I like th gloves on the poles too. So, gentle reader, here is some of my art for you.

Happy 2008.

Dictation from Kid 2

Last night after my daughter read me story that she had worked on all day, my son, who is six, wanted to write one too. I offered to transcribe. Here is his story:

The Boat of Destruction


Chapter 1


There were two parents and two kids too. One of the parents said “come on we’re going to be late for theboat ride!” “But that boat is very dangerous” “oh don’t be silly honey” “but that boat is one thousand years old.” The Dad was talking to the son and he said “Sonny, we’re going to go on the very old boat.” That boat is one thousand years old. Those boats were very very weak. On the day that they were on the boat, when the boat started to go they heard a jingling. And the whistle sounded like that. When they were on the boat started to crack. The next thing they know, both of the boats, the boy was in front and the girls were way behind, what happened was the boat started to sink. Everyone was screaming. Only four people survived. They got to Idaho and there was a very very older boat that never ran because it already sank. The boat broke in two. When the boat sank that night, next thing they know, the next ship they were on, the hoat sounded like this, the horn, that very night there was very stormy weather. There was only one way out. The life boat. There was only one and the captain was gone. And then they rowed away and saw land. And the same boat they were in was picked up and was very good. Finally everyone died even the father. The ghost returned, next thing they know, they came back to life and saw a very old boat that was so old it couldn’t float and the whistle sounded like this, as fresh as air. They had bad steering problems. Every inch they go they sink, but they got it fixed up then the whistle sounded like this.

To be continued

If anyone is interested in optioning the movie rights, let me know.