This commentary is by Jill Cyr Loewer, a senior compliance analyst for Utility Services, an electric reliability services firm based in Waterbury. She currently lives in Reston, Virginia.
When my children were young, we would often spend warm summer days exploring the babbling brooks and small streams of Vermont, a practice I liked to call “brooking.” We would put on our waterproof sandals and wander through the rock-filled, chilly water of these small tributaries found in most Vermont towns until our feet were numb, enjoying the simplicity and peaceful time outdoors.
My husband and I chose to raise our children in Vermont, living in several different towns in central and northern parts of the state during our 23-year stay. The beauty of the landscape and the community is what we were seeking, and is what we found.
When my children were older, I often joined friends to paddle Vermont’s lakes and reservoirs with my Vermont Canoe & Kayak “Tupper” canoe. Paddling along the shores of these bodies of water was a meditative practice with numerous sightings of waterfowl, otters, and sometimes even a bald eagle.
Vermont’s summer this year, however, is different, with Canada’s wildfire smoke clouds making the air hazy and unsafe to breathe for some, and the recent unprecedented rainfall flooding so many communities that my family lived and worked in. It has been difficult to watch and hear about now that we live in the Washington, D.C., area and I work remotely for my Vermont-based company.
My heart is breaking from the pictures, videos and personal stories affecting my friends and neighbors in the state I love.
How is it that these climate-change-related disasters have happened to a state that is so progressive in its use of rooftop solar panels, mandatory household composting, and recycling practices — all very focused methods to do the right thing? It was our way of life for so many years, and now in the community I’ve moved to, solar panels are few and far between, composting is a hobby-type activity for some towns, and yes, we do have curbside recycling pickup — but not for glass.
At the height of the floodwaters in Waterbury, an out-of-town reporter interviewing a community member — devastated by the flooding of her home — asked if she would be moving somewhere else. She quickly replied that of course not, her town was her family and they will see her through her personal disaster.
I work with this woman, and though neither she nor I personally experienced the flooding damage Waterbury saw during Tropical Storm Irene in 2011, I understood what she was trying to convey — that “family support” is what we both saw from that community during Irene.
Through the past few weeks’ news stories, I am again drawn to President Calvin Coolidge’s “Brave Little State” speech, given when he was touring the state after the 1927 flooding, which says, in part:
“I love Vermont because of her hills and valleys, her scenery and invigorating climate, but most of all because of her indomitable people. They are a race of pioneers who have almost beggared themselves to serve others. If the spirit of liberty should vanish in other parts of the Union, and support of our institutions should languish, it could all be replenished from the generous store held by the people of this brave little state of Vermont.”
I don’t know if Vermont has the answer to our climate-change crisis as the world faces unprecedented heat, rain, wildfires and floods, but I like to believe it does. One thing I know for sure: Vermonters will survive this latest statewide flooding, as they have done before, and will come back even stronger, and it will be because of community.
