I grew up in Burlington, Vermont, and I lived there for a long time: approximately 1998-2009, the summers of 2010 and 2011, then full time 2012-2015, minus the summers of 2012-2015 and all of 2016-2018...or something like that.
Most of the time, anyways.
Most of the time, anyways.
Last summer I moved an hour south of Burlington, south and east to Plainfield, right on the edge of East Montpelier. East of East Montpelier, I say.
I don’t go back to Burlington much, I’ll go on Mondays for work and to get supper with my Mother, or sometimes I’ll go on Wednesdays to ride bikes and see a friend or three.
It feels different, I think. It feels different or I do. Not bad, though many people complain, and I sure did, before I left.
Things change, and humans generally, don’t like that sort of thing very much.
One friend, he’s not from Burlington, lived in Vermont through the pandemic, moved here a while before it began.
He ended up leaving, frustrated by how much things had changed; people were rude now, the economy worse, the spiritual fabric frayed and uninteresting.
He had a hard time and so he left, seeking greener pastures to the south.
We speak on the phone every now and again, and he told me recently that what he found was more of the same.
Vermont hadn’t gone to shit, the world had, and he just happened to be in Vermont to watch it happen.
He ended up leaving, frustrated by how much things had changed; people were rude now, the economy worse, the spiritual fabric frayed and uninteresting.
The vibes were off.
He had a hard time and so he left, seeking greener pastures to the south.We speak on the phone every now and again, and he told me recently that what he found was more of the same.
Vermont hadn’t gone to shit, the world had, and he just happened to be in Vermont to watch it happen.
