(Host)
Commentator Willem Lange is a writer and storyteller who’s reminded
that one of the traditional ways of coping with adversity – like
hubcap-deep mud on our dirt roads – is to laugh at it.
(Lange) It
was March. Two old -timers were sitting on a front porch in Norwich,
Vermont; there’s not much else old guys can do in mud season. It was
before Main Street was paved, and with all the traffic to the store and
post office, the road was in pretty bad shape.
All to once one of ‘em said, "What’s that comin’ up the road? Looks like a raccoon."
Well,
it wan’t a raccoon, or a cat, either. Pretty soon they could see ‘twas
a brown fedora hat. One of the old guys got up and walked on the
planks across the yard down to the gate. When the hat went by, he give
it a poke with his cane. It tumbled sideways; there was a head beneath
it.
"Goll, Silas!" the old man said. "You’re in pretty deep, ain’t ye?"
"No, I’m okay. But I am some worried about my horse."
If
you think that’s an exaggeration, you’ve never experienced mud season
the way it used to be in the good old days – and still is, here and
there. It’s hard to believe how deep the mud can get in poorly drained
roads when automobiles begin churning it with their tires.
We
don’t get sustained subzero temperatures here much anymore, so the
ground doesn’t freeze as deep. Still, where a road is plowed clear, it
can freeze as deep as six feet. When the spring sun warms the road, its
surface melts. But because the earth beneath is still frozen, the
water can’t percolate. It just lies there, turning into Dinty Moore
beef stew – without the carrots.
Those who can afford it, go
south for a few weeks. Those who can’t, either get grumpy and
unapproachable – or, if they’re real Vermonters, make up funny stories
about it.
Two of the funniest Vermont storytellers were Francis
Colburn and Allan Foley. They were regulars at church suppers,
conventions, and annual meetings of volunteer firemen. Nobody has ever
captured the ironic self-deprecation of Vermont humor better than they.
The story about the fedora hat is one of Al’s. Luckily, Francis and Al
were recorded, and those of us who loved to listen to them cherish
their old LP records. You can still find ’em, if you’re lucky, on eBay
or at garage sales; the farther north the garage, the more likely it is.
Or
you can call your local road agent, ask him what’s the worst road in
town, and go experience it for yourself. Watch out for hats in the
road, though.
This is Willem Lange in Montpelier, and I gotta get back to work.