Editor’s note: This commentary is by Anna Smith, of Lincoln, a UVM graduate who served in the Peace Corps in Ghana and is now working with a midwife in Middlebury. She is active in the Addison County Democratic Committee, and volunteers at the Lincoln Elementary School.
[A]s a multi-generational, lifelong Vermonter who is very much acquainted with the economic challenges and attendant anxiety that Peter Miller illuminates in his piece “I Am Vermont Broke,” (published on VTDigger in August) I not only sympathize with those who have to struggle to make ends meet each month; I am one of them. The way this 26-year-old woman sees Vermont culture however, leads to conclusions more hopeful than Miller’s. Miller asserts that “the hope and pride of [his] people has become fragile.” I see the hope and pride of my people very much intact and steadfast.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Anna Smith. I was born in Vermont. I am staying in Vermont. I share Mr. Miller’s sense of calling to “document the culture of Vermont during my lifetime.” Having lived in a small town in Vermont all my life and worked at the front of our general store for more than 10 years, I have had the honor of meeting lots of different authentic Vermonters. I will fervently dispute any implication that the people and culture I come from are somehow less valuable because of a struggling economy or lack of education. However, it also offends me to hear people suggest that Vermonters that have moved here are elitist, disengaged and not welcome. There is a huge and growing diversity of people in Vermont and this is exciting and one of our strengths.
Since Miller’s letter was published, I have been interviewing young people whose intention is to stay in Vermont, getting their reactions to Miller’s claim. I asked Vermonters what they think about our state and whether they feel our rural culture is disappearing.
Here are some of the varied responses I got to the prompt, “What are your greatest hopes or fears for the future of Vermont?”
“I’m fearful for the middle class. Getting from the bottom to the middle is a hard transition. But that’s not limited to Vermont. Nor is it limited to young people.”
“One of the hardest parts about living in Vermont is finding and affording a place to live! The vanishing middle class is so visible in the context of real estate. Your options are: a dump, or a parcel completely outside your price range. Where are we supposed to live?”
“How do we make local farms sustainable and still uphold strict regulations to improve the quality of our water systems?”
“What strategies are in place to oversee the sale and subdivision of meadow and farm land?”
“Many members of our cohort are falling victim to substance abuse, and communities and families are being destroyed by addiction. What can we do?”
Sitting beside a woodstove in the Northeast Kingdom, Sharon Rotax, a 26-year-old social worker and grant writer shared her fears for the consolidation of schools that has been trending across the state. The quantitative data suggesting that school consolidation would behoove us is totally contradictory to the qualitative narrative that schools are the heart of our communities.
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Leaning over the hood of a 2002 Dodge Wrangler, I asked Dana Kamencik and David Richards, two young men from Vermont, “What are your greatest hopes or fears for the future of our state?”
“I worry about the state getting more developed in ways that are incongruent with Vermonters’ beliefs … having the culture usurped by people who are less connected and less community oriented. Look at the number of second homes. They don’t have any connection, no motivation to get involved.”
As easy as it is to identify quandaries facing our state, we must cultivate those reasons why life here is worth having; and what powers we have at our disposal to sustain or create the Vermont culture we love.
“Why do you choose to stay here?” I followed up.
For these guys, the answer was easy and poignant. “Pride,” said one. “It’s my home. I think it’s a cop-out to leave, just because it may be easier somewhere else.”
Almost all of the people I heard from, regardless of economic status, expressed a shared vision of commitment and devotion; a vision my friend and collaborator Jeff Bercuwitz calls “Vermont Rich.”
The most common theme to come up for Vermonters when asked why they choose to stay in Vermont was community. Over and over, people described the camaraderie, the safety, the insurance that if your car breaks down in a snowbank a neighbor will come to your aid. One nurse described when she first moved to Vermont. That was the year of the flood, she said. We had young kids. We were new in town. The morning after, we went down to the center and the library (which used to be in the basement of the hall) was just destroyed! Gone. Everyone was out, pulling books from the mud, hosing them down, drying them off, bringing food. Everyone was out! It felt like a family.
Following community, the natural beauty of our home is the ready answer. The humbling fickle natural world of Vermont is what makes the people who live here so hardy, good-humored and tenacious. The relationship between our people and our precious environment is what defines the culture of Vermont. For generations Vermonters have been drawn to the Green Mountain State to farm and partake in animal husbandry, to grow industry and develop energy, to harvest and sell lumber, to fish our rivers and streams, to collect sap to turn into syrup, and when all the work is done to sit back and admire our radiant and unique seasons. Our wilderness has inspired poetry, song and art. You cannot disentangle the people from the land. Jack Nault, a logger in a red flannel, and green and black checked Johnson Woolen Mills coat said, giving his ruddy beard a scratch, “It’s awfully pretty around here.”
A landscaper I spoke with shared his optimism on the apparent lack of jobs in Vermont. “With renewable energy on the rise, I think we have a lot of really constructive dialogue going on and great potential for employment. I’m proud of that. I think Vermont very often leads the way on important issues. It feels like every time I turn on VPR we’re talking about wind, solar, hydro, pipelines. It’s a great conversation.”
A nursing student in Addison County responded to an article about a Porter Medical Center physician becoming involved in turning solar fields into meadows for pollinators. “It’s genius! It gives me hope. So much of what we’re doing to our environment is irreversible, but in this case with the bees, there’s evidence to suggest we can stabilize and bounce back. It’s totally heartwarming.”
Many people I interviewed expressed a concern about the fact that our wisdom and heritage does not get passed down as much as it used to, and what the loss of lessons from our past could mean for us in solving problems of the present and future. It is the sense of togetherness that young Vermonters report feels most threatened. “Chicken pie supper, getting together at Town Meeting Day. On the opening day of hunting season, I tell you what, growing up, every town in the state used to have a hunters’ breakfast. They don’t do that kind of stuff anymore.”
One 25-year-old woman is a member of her town’s historical society. When asked why she joined up, she explained, “I went to the history expo in Tunbridge last summer, and I was the only young person there! An old woman even said to me, ‘I’m glad to see a young person like you here because I worry about who is going to carry on when all us old folks aren’t around …’ and when she said that, I thought, I’ll join.”
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In just the same way Peter Miller can harken back to the days of his youth and imagine that they were the way life ought to be, so can his father recall the nights of his youth lit by lanterns, and make the case that real Vermonters didn’t need electricity.
A line from “Vermont Broke” reads, “Let the Vermonters talk about their existence in this state, which is being taken over by a new culture, brought to Vermont by the people moving up on Interstate 89 and 91.” This is the exact defensive sentiment being shouted across America right now, by those citizens who feel ignored, cheated and tired. What we are talking about is fear. We are afraid for our ways of life. As a native Vermonter who sees the phenomenon Peter Miller is describing, I empathize. But if we really want to get a sense of what people are thinking about the state of our culture, we need a more fair and candid point of view. I implore us to engage in a dialogue with all Vermonters, not just the disillusioned and embittered. Let’s interview the young and determined, on whose shoulders this whole kettle of fish rests. And let’s interview the Vermonters who aren’t from here, who did indeed move up interstates 89 and 91, and who could be found the morning after the flood, in mud boots, surrounded by neighbors saving community library books. Perhaps those owners of second homes would feel more inclined to be an invested part of the community, if first, we invited them.
As easy as it is to identify quandaries facing our state, we must cultivate those reasons why life here is worth having; and what powers we have at our disposal to sustain or create the Vermont culture we love. I believe the solution to this sensation of a fraying tribe is not to build a wall, or resent those “others” moving in, but to adapt. Both America and Vermont were sculpted by the hands of those others. One woman I spoke with shared her thoughts about the dark history of eugenics in Vermont and the sterilization of Indians, French Canadians, black Vermonters, the poor, and the disabled, punctuating genetic lines of Vermonters. In this light, the idea that to be a “true” Vermonter one must have six-generation stock becomes thin. Culture is not static. In just the same way Peter Miller can harken back to the days of his youth and imagine that they were the way life ought to be, so can his father recall the nights of his youth lit by lanterns, and make the case that real Vermonters didn’t need electricity.
Adaptation and integration is not always graceful, nor comfortable, but it is essential. We must be conscious of not letting our pride or our fear manifest as exclusivity or prejudice. To reiterate an idea featured in Krakauer’s “Into the Wild,” joys in life are most valid and true when shared. So can be said about our beautiful home here. We have a heritage and tradition in togetherness, and a choice to make.
We cannot afford to have low spirits or apathy at such a critical time for the future of our state and our culture. Disillusionment and isolationism is fatal. Engagement in civic, social or legislative activism is the best tool you have to ensure your culture is the one you want and believe in. Vermont is indeed a bellwether state, and will continue to be one, in our charge. The beauty in a flock of sheep is that, if the bellwether is struggling to break trail, there is an entire flock standing steadfast behind.
As suggested in his article, Peter Miller is indeed a Vermont treasure. Best known for capturing humble glimpses of ordinary hardworking Vermonters, his work glorifies the grace and profundity of our lives. It enables us all to feel proud, worthy of admiration and unafraid of the winter and old age. I have always regarded his work to be some of the most sincere encapsulations of Vermont culture, which is why I was so saddened by his article. So, to lift my spirits I went back outside, drove down to the general store and bumped into a few of the reasons that I continue to feel hopeful about life in this great and humble state.
