Editor’s note: This op-ed is by Bob Stannard of Manchester Center. It first appeared in the Bennington Banner.
You never know how bad things can get until they get worse.
The people who left a more comfortable lifestyle in places like Haddam, Conn., to come to Vermont in days gone by had their reasons for doing so — reasons we may never know. Some came to escape from a life they did not want to live. Others perhaps came here for an adventure. Still others moved here just to be left alone.
Two Stannard brothers, Lemuel (whose name is described as “The name Lemuel creates the urge to be both logical and technical, we emphasize that it causes a restless intensity that defies relaxation”) and Lobias (whose name means “You are inclined to be quiet, reserved, patient and conservative, preferring to test and prove everything to your own satisfaction before committing yourself”), moved here somewhere around 1760. They were coopers — barrel makers — and lived on what once was Stannard Hill, now Nims Road in Dorset. I would have liked to have been able to sit down with these two guys over a beer to learn just why it was they chose to come here. What was the attraction? Black flies? Rocks?
They had to have been tough just to make the arduous trip up here, to say nothing about what they had to do once they got here. Land had to be cleared. A home had to be built and a life had to be carved out of some of the most unforgiving soil in the country.
The beautiful stonewalls that we enjoy today were built for two reasons: one to define property boundaries and the other so that they stood a prayer of working the land to grow crops. Life was hard for these folks.
It is from people like Lemuel and Lobias that the Vermonters of today hail. Many people around this great nation are looking at Vermont in awe of how we are handling and coping with the worst disaster of our lifetime. When Vermont loses one bridge, it’s big news. On that fateful Sunday when Irene hit, Vermont lost dozens of bridges, including many of our historic covered bridges.
Our roads, railroads, land, homes and communities have been crushed by a freak storm. You’ll hear Vermonters say, “We don’t get storms like that, ‘cause we’re protected by the mountains.” The mountains failed us this time.
There are thousands of stories making their way around Vermont, as well as some wonderful quotes. Here are two that say it all. Jesse Billings, a farmer outside of Rutland, described the water as “being up to the bellies of the bovines,” and when asked what he was going to do about his lost crops said: “What we usually do. We’ll figure it out.”
At the Garlic Festival in Bennington on Sunday, I ran into my old friend PJ DeVito, who told me about meeting the man from FEMA. He told her that he’d been doing this job for 30 years and never met a more understanding and tolerant group of people than those he’s met in Vermont. He said it seems as though you don’t even need me here. PJ said, “We don’t need you, but we need your money”.
And that’s what it now comes down to. We need help here. Yes, we can pitch in and have neighbor helping neighbor, and that’s been happening and will continue to happen. It’s rewarding and comforting to see the people of this state come together in ways seldom seen elsewhere.
It will take years to rebuild Vermont. And now that the chips are down for Vermont, much like they were for New Orleans albeit on a smaller scale, perhaps, what is the response for the majority leader of the U.S. House, Eric Cantor? Before he will support aid to Vermont there must be off-setting budget cuts.
Here we go again. This time Vermont will be held hostage, much like the nation a few months ago. The contrast is breathtaking. Vermont has shown its ability to pull together for the greater good, while Mr. Cantor attempts to leverage those ravaged by nature to get his way. His actions are despicable.
Vermont has seen more than its share of shameful characters over the past 250 years, but it’s hard to say if any of them can hold a candle to the man who holds power in our U.S. Congress. It is ironic that support for Cantor’s tactics comes from none other than Michael Brown. You might remember him. He was the head of FEMA during Katrina; the man who President Bush commended by emphatically stating, “Heck of a job, Brownie.”
Vermonters can breathe a sigh of relief that Mr. Brown no longer holds this position. We can only hope that Rep. Cantor is relieved of his as well. The rest of this country can learn a lot about how to conduct business by watching what we do here in Vermont. As is oftentimes the case, misfortune has provided us with an opportunity to shine and show the nation how it’s done. It’s in our DNA. We can do a lot on our own, but a little help from others would be welcome right about now.
