Editor’s note: This commentary is by Walt Amses, a writer who lives in North Calais.
These first days of swimming in a pond more suited to migrating gray seals than thin-skinned humans, are learning experiences, mostly about things you’d probably be better off not knowing. Like how a several mile, pre-swim walk heats your body to a point that intensifies the water’s frigidity … It feels like diving into a vat of broken glass. A couple of breast strokes and I’m in water that borders on tolerable, before swimming over one of the many springs that feed the lake, which are less tolerable. But the water is also an antidote. Nothing else matters.
Generally, summer in Vermont is embarrassingly joyous, simply because it’s not winter in Vermont, which lasts from around Halloween to Mother’s Day. We prize summer certainly for its warmth but no less for its brevity: a window open only so far and not for very long, often not kicking into high gear until the Fourth of July and — in some years — winding down well before Labor Day weekend. And if that weren’t enough, the Covid-19 pandemic casts a foreboding shadow over not only Vermont but everywhere else in the Northern Hemisphere as well, raising myriad questions about what summer 2020 will look like.
The tourism industry, which adds nearly $3 billion to the state’s economy annually, is holding its breath as well, not quite sure how summer — the most lucrative season — will impact the state’s bottom line. In addition to the usual warm weather activities such as swimming, kayaking, fishing and numerous other water sports, Vermont usually boasts an assortment of land-based activities that have been decimated by coronavirus; either postponed until autumn or canceled altogether.
A wonderland of craft breweries, outdoor concerts and summer theater, Vermont’s popularity as a destination has grown substantially the last several years. While restaurants and breweries have been slated to open, restrictions may apply and reservations may be required. It would be wise to call ahead. Although many musical venues and indoor theater performances have been postponed indefinitely, golf courses and hiking trails, because they pose less of a risk, are open now or will be soon. State parks are scheduled to begin allowing visitors next weekend. But whatever you plan to do, checking in advance for any restrictions will save a lot of frustration.
As if that weren’t enough, we learned this week — perhaps the least well kept secret in the universe — that Americans are unhappier now than at any time since 1972, when the annual survey by NORC at the University of Chicago began. Only 14% of adults said they were “very happy,” compared to 31% in 2018, when 23% also reported that they felt “isolated,” a figure that understandably has doubled in recent weeks. But statistics seldom tell the entire story. While some of us have a tendency to lament the current situation, there are those who see hardship as opportunity. They’re the ones manning the lemonade stands when life hands them a bitter pill or two.
According to Sonja Lyubomirsky, a psychology professor at the University of California, Riverside, re-imagining happiness is almost hard-wired into Americans’ DNA. She believes human beings are remarkably resilient with ample evidence that we can “adapt to everything and move forward.”
Although positive thinking might not make a rainy day sunny, it can go a long way toward making happiness seem possible, even in a world that right now feels as though it’s throwing ever more insurmountable obstacles in our paths each day. Ginny Sassaman of Maple Corner in Calais, has been literally preaching happiness for several years, at the Unitarian Universalist Church in Montpelier as well as in Washington, Vermont; Massachusetts; Wisconsin; and Beaufort, South Carolina.
“Personal happiness is part of the equation,” she explained, “but it’s more about making the world a better place for us all,” which is also one of the important takeaways from her new book: “Preaching Happiness: Creating a Just and Joyful World.” Sassaman went on: “We find that many Americans equate happiness with financial worth, material goods or the GDP and eventually find that traditional success can leave us feeling empty.”
She suggested that an alternative approach, focused on making the world a happier place, might lead to a greater sense of fulfillment on a personal level.
Sassaman shared her perception that “happiness is quite serious work,” which may sound like an oxymoron but is anything but frivolous: “We need to consider animals, the environment, the elderly at the policy level.” She pointed out that Bhutan supports “Maximum Happiness” and New Zealand actually has a budget line item addressing “Well Being.”
Stressing how flexibility is an important component of the happiness equation, Sassaman provided a personal example: She was extremely lucky to get one of the few waterside campsites on Burton Island on Lake Champlain this weekend. “It’s extremely competitive,” she told me, “But the pandemic had other plans.” Bummed but undeterred, Sassman booked a small cottage instead.
I asked her if it was on the water and she said “yeah … close enough,” stressing another tenet of her outlook that suggests tempering our expectations and letting things go can help avoid a lot of frustration when we don’t get precisely what we want.
But if you’re thinking this summer in Vermont might not go your way and you’re looking for an alternative, take New Zealand off your list. Even considering its well-being budget, assault weapons ban and successful handling of the Covid-19 pandemic, tomorrow is their first day of winter.
