My Vermont has the
most beautiful vista in the entire interstate system – I see it daily coming
down French Hill on I-89 entering Richmond. What makes that panorama of farm fields, Mount
Mansfield, the old iron bridge, the Winooski Valley and
Camel’s Hump even more beautiful for me is that seeing it means I am just
minutes from home.
My wife and I are not "real
Vermonters" – we were born and raised in New
Jersey at the beginning of the baby
boom. We lived in eight states and one
Canadian province before we had the good fortune to settle in Vermont in
1980, where we knew immediately we would spend the rest of our lives. Having now traveled through all 50 states, 7
Canadian provinces and 29 countries; we know none of them can hold a candle to Vermont. So, although we are not "real Vermonters," we
are Vermonters by choice; which is even better
The shopkeepers in the
biggest city in my Vermont know
me when I walk in the door. When I call
my mechanic for an appointment, he immediately asks whether I will be bringing
in our ‘97 or our ‘04 Subaru and, when I say the ’97, he wonders whether I can
get another winter out of those snow tires.
It’s been said that "Vermont is
what America used
to be," and that "in Vermont we
live life in the slow lane." Both those
statements are true, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.