Small Town
March 5th, 2008
First off, our stuff is here! Hooray for stuff! Whether it will ever get out of boxes is another story altogether — two busy people and enough boxes for the universe to unpack do not a joyful situation make. Would anyone like to come organize my kitchen while I retreat to the sunroom to get some writing done, perhaps with a snifter of brandy? I’ll make you tea if you holler really loudly that your back is hurting.
The good news is, however, that we have a bed, and God, it will be so good to sleep tonight without the loud “REEARGH” of the air mattress every single time one of us wants to get up to go to the bathroom. This is, of course, followed by an incredible bounce that shoots the remaining sleeper off the edge of the bed into the makeshift cardboard-box night table, taking out the lamp and the alarm clock, along with whatever nighttime beverages the sleeper may have chosen (and Jesus, it’s drier than Death Valley in here, so water is necessary, along with giant pools of Blistex).
I should tell you, too, that one of our movers — a local guy, from Rutland, which is … well, it’s not very close — stood in our kitchen chatting about the primaries and at one point announced TO ME, A WOMAN, “Can you believe we have to choose between a colored guy and a woman? I mean, those are our only choices!”
I think what surprised me most is that he’s obviously a Democrat, given the “we,” and that kind of talk seems … well, it seems against the Democratic stereotype, that’s for sure. And you know, the whole idea that I would be as offended as he is by a woman running for president, never mind the uh, creative use of the word “colored,” is abhorrent and entirely … flooring. Perhaps he was better rooting for ah, someone else, or joining one of Ron Paul’s rabid fanzine writers (Note: I really do mean those nutty writers, and not RP himself.) Jesus. I’m never very good in situations where there is obvious deep-seated prejudice, because — well, at least in this case, the guy was responsible for carting my precious valuables up and down the stairs, so a tongue-lashing would likely have cost me a lamp or two. But generally, I am too stunned to properly respond, although if I’m honest, if someone thinks it’s perfectly acceptable to whip out something as scathing as that in casual conversation, I’m imagining I’m not going to be the one to change his mind, no matter how eloquent my commonition. I realize this is, on some level, wrong, but I generally opt for non-confrontation. (Although the giant “Obama 08″ pin on my bulletin board likely spoke volumes, although to him, it likely meant that coloreds bother me less than women.)
Anyway, I’ll tell you what else is not so fun: living with a pint-size Paul Revere. The dog is on high alert in the new house, and at any given moment can be found running through the hallways barking, “The toilets are flushing! The toilets are flushing!” Like we didn’t know. The same warning is also used when the heat goes on, given that the heat sounds like a legion of tiny gnomes hammering on the baseboards and by God, she is going to sniff those gnomes out and eat them if it kills her. Or at least, she’s going to tell someone about it.
I’d also like to add that this life is both exhilarating and entirely … freaky. Honestly, this town is small. Very small. So small that I had lunch and dinner next to the exact same family, and I quickly realized that it wasn’t a kind of weird coincidence, it’s that this town is that tiny. My next door neighbor has a TOWN HOLIDAY in his honor because he’s “such a nice guy.” I’m sure there’s more to it than that (I hope?), but seriously. Apparently one day a year (not sure when this year’s holiday is/was), the entire town is invited to the local pub to have a beer in Frank’s honor and all proceeds go to the charity of Frank’s choice. It’s … well, Jesus, where the hell AM I, that something like that even EXISTS?
I’m feeling more like JC Wiatt every day, and again, it both excites and freaks me right the hell out. I went to the local natural foods store today and saw pickled baby carrots — from a local pickling lady in a nearby town — on sale for $7.95. SEVEN NINETY FIVE. It’s Country Baby! (Side note: I bought them because I had to try them. Mine are better. Pickled carrot lady might have competition, if I can ever figure out how to can. Watch out, PCL!) And there is a whole lot of “yupping” and “nopeing” and a LOT of overalls. Lots.
Anyway, that’s where I’m at. Still liking it, but utterly spooked by the general tininess and obvious quirks. And town holidays. And Country Baby pickled carrots. Vermont is a little scary, non?
Yup.
*John Mellencamp, of course. I … I own a few of his albums. And I like his wife a whole lot. Stop laughing.
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
27 Comments Add your own
1. Jamie | March 5th, 2008 at 8:42 pm
When I imagine you in your new environment, I have to admit I get a very strong visual a la Stars Hollow. I’m sorry, but I do. Well that and I imagine you would be somewhat like Lorelai Gilmore’s character both as a mother and a hilarious person. But I digress.
2. -R- | March 5th, 2008 at 8:45 pm
It sounds just like Newhart! Let me know when you meet Darryl and his other brother Darryl.
3. Angella | March 5th, 2008 at 9:55 pm
Oh, your town sounds like mine, except I’m in Canada and all.
Coming here from Vancouver was quite the shock, but seven years later I’m adjusting
4. Suebob | March 5th, 2008 at 10:03 pm
I know. I wish we had some spics, kikes and micks in the race, too. Because this is 1948, right?
5. clickmom | March 6th, 2008 at 4:27 am
I’m thinking Little House On The Prairie. The mover guy is probably still amazed that you have the vote! If your town is really progressive it’ll have a school for the blind. Is there a school for the blind?
Maybe it’s one of those towns that are just filled to the brim with seasonal tourists. You are on the tail end of ski season, and my mom and her old fogies all rent places in Vermont over the summer to get away from the south florida heat. Maybe in a few months you’ll be surrounded by hordes of seniors! Imagine the posting possibilities! What fodder, especially if they are all there for Frank’s Day.
6. Swistle | March 6th, 2008 at 5:37 am
I think I would have said, “I KNOW!! Isn’t it INCREDIBLE!??”
7. TwoBusy | March 6th, 2008 at 5:51 am
If your mover is taken aback by the idea of someone other than a white male being in charge, he’s living in the wrong damned state. (Maybe he migrated over from NH.)
That being said, is $7.95 too much or too little for pickled carrots? I’m a fuzzy on the current state of the pickled carrot marketplace.
8. Sadie | March 6th, 2008 at 6:27 am
$7.95 for pickled carrots is a RACKET.
Yeah, I might have neglected to mention that even in the Enlightened North, there are…people…in…remote locales, who might be a little…staid. And by staid, what I really mean is “crazy backwoods inbreeders who call black people ‘coloreds.’” Wow have I stumbled on a lot of these…people in rural Western Massachusetts. You can drive 20 minutes from Springfield (urban, gritty & depressed as it gets) and you start hearing the music from Deliverance.
9. jonniker | March 6th, 2008 at 6:47 am
Oh TB, $7.95 for pickled baby carrots is absurd. I mean, I get that it’s not cheap if you’re not producing in giant bulk, but when you consider how EASY they are to make (seriously, it takes less than 10 minutes, total), it makes me laugh out loud.
10. WorstBloggerEva | March 6th, 2008 at 6:49 am
Recently we were interviewing someone for a coordinator (READ: Admin) position on my team. She was a great girl who clearly had all the skills we needed — attention to detail, bright, willing to help, etc.
HOWEVER, at one point she was talking about why she was moving away from Florida back to the Northeast and started to mention all the “mexicans” living in the area and how they were overrunning the place and whipped out this gem: “Yeah, its like go back to your country if you don’t like it here.”
Umm….I don’t particularly care if that’s how she feels…she’s entitled to her opinion. But would you honestly let that out durin an INTERVIEW?!?!? The team of women I was with who were interviewing her decided it was one of those “I’m too comfortable with you too soon” moments and decided to ignore it. And we’re happy she joined our group (because she IS a great coordinator), but jeeeez…
11. jonniker | March 6th, 2008 at 6:55 am
Lauren, the Mexican comment is FAR TOO COMMON in Florida — or at least where I lived. Honestly, chalk it up to the fact that it’s not only acceptable to say that where she comes from, but it may, in fact, be encouraged. If I had a dollar for every time someone said that to me in Florida, I would be very, very rich. God, did I hate that.
12. Andrea | March 6th, 2008 at 7:23 am
You know, I hear about there being people in the country who still believe a woman’s place is in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant, and that desegregation and civil rights are just a blip and that everything will “go back to how it should be,” but I’ve never actually run across one of the bigots myself, nor have I known someone who has. (Of course, I don’t technically KNOW you, do I?)
I’m the same way as you, usually too stunned to say anything witty and sharp tongued to make my opinion of their assholery obvious. I mostly stand there like a slack-jawed idiot.
13. Andrea | March 6th, 2008 at 7:24 am
Oh, and a side job pickling carrots? Sounds very Normal Rockwellian.
14. Jess | March 6th, 2008 at 8:20 am
Vermont is crazy. Everyone knows that. CNN did a little piece on Brattleboro and how they passed a thing saying that if Bush or Cheney shows up in town, they should be arrested. CNN found it funny. “Oh, Vermont.”
Makes for good blog fodder, though. And isn’t that what it’s all about?
15. Judith in NY | March 6th, 2008 at 8:21 am
I was shocked when I read about your mover, after all you now live in Vermont, for god’s sake! But then I remembered that there is racism everywhere. We won’t even talk about the anti women-as leaders feelings.
A few years ago I was dating an African man and for some reason we were taking public transportation on a Sunday morning. A few people (I have to specify they were white, sorry, I hate to refer to people’s skin tone) turned to us and kept staring in a really menacing manner. My friend kept telling me to not pay attention, he was used to this kind of thing. It kept going until I stood up and screamed at the whole bus–Don’t worry, I’m Puerto Rican so it does really matter that I am with an African. (and he is truly from Africa, so I use the term correctly)
THEN that same day I came back home and my landlady was waiting for me so she could tell me that she and her neighbors were worried about this black man, that if he moved in, the property values would go down. I just stood there for a while, looking at her with my jaw gaping, thinking that maybe I was having a nightmare or that we were back in the 50′s.
Maybe the man in Vermont has never had the chance to interact with people of color (not that this excuses racism). I have no explanation for the anti-woman prejudice.
At least, demographics are on you side, Vermont is supposed to be one of the most liberal states. And if all else fails, maybe you will be there to see those Vermonters arrest Bush and/or Chenney if they show up.
16. She Likes Purple | March 6th, 2008 at 8:29 am
It sounds like you’re living in Stars Hollow.
17. H | March 6th, 2008 at 9:03 am
I’m the same way when someone makes a comment like that. I guess because I don’t think that way, my family doesn’t think that way and no one I work with would dare say such things, it catches me off guard. I sort of forget there are people like that out there so I never know what to say. I had one bright moment recently, though, when a friend of mine referred to my Korean cousins with a racist slang word and I managed to come up with a good retort. It shut him up and the rest of the people in the room were silent. I surprised myself and gave myself ONE POINT for being quick for once!
Canning is so easy. You should try it.
18. kirida | March 6th, 2008 at 9:22 am
I never know how to respond to those situations. My brother-in-law said the words, “colored,” and “mulatto” in the same sentence and I think my head exploded.
19. Christine | March 6th, 2008 at 10:25 am
Holy crap. Maybe if you can’t find a job that you like besides freelance stuff, you could write up a sitcom? Because I can’t imagine these situations anywhere but on TV. I guess it would have to be a cable show though, since I don’t think networks do sitcoms anymore, or at least not well. The racy side of Vermont! Pickled carrots and liberal race/sexists! Dear lord.
20. Leah | March 6th, 2008 at 11:14 am
My mom will come organize your kitchen, whether you want her to or not. In fact, even if you ask her NOT to organize your kitchen, she will do it anyway and put everything in the wrong place so that you will still be looking for the goddamn whisk six months later. When you tell her stop, she will tell you you are being ungrateful. It will be awesome.
21. Kristin H | March 6th, 2008 at 11:36 am
When I envision Vermont, here’s what I see. Trees? Check. Moose? Check. Other, assorted green things? Check. Close-minded people? Um, not so much. How strange. I guess nowhere is free from that kind of thing.
So, if the town turns out to be a little too small and you don’t find that you want to live off the grid, have you considered moving to “the big city”? As I understand it, they have microwaves there. Although according to my mom (who I think would get along famously with Leah’s mom) house prices are totally out of control. Then again, maybe they need you where you are, if your calling turns out to be selling all things that can be pickled (and really, what can’t?).
22. CJ | March 6th, 2008 at 12:22 pm
(Ignoring the election issues, I’m not American…)I love the small town-ness of places. I live on a small island – yeah, EVERYONE knows everyone, and has probably dated them, if not their cousin or their brother…
Two examples, one against me, one for me:
1. My car tax is a little out of date, but I’m sorting it. Police have a chat with me on Wednesday – I go into the tax place Thursday to pick up a form and the guy (who I know) behind the counter goes ‘Here you go, we’ve been expecting you’…
2. New person moves into the house down the street (I introduced myself on day one), my other neighbour who owns a gardening company is now doing their landscaping. See new neighbour again today and ask her how the garden is coming along, and that she’s in good hands with the landscaper… (bearing in mind it’s a hidden garden off the street that nobody can see so you’d never know it was overgrown). You should have seen her face.
So many other examples of ‘nothing’s a secret here’… could keep going for hours.
But you know what? I like it. I really do. We all look out for each other.
23. Katie | March 6th, 2008 at 2:43 pm
Pictures!! I must see this hamlet of yours!
I might be in VT this summer. How far are you from Springfield?
I got my hair did yesterday…$170! Gah!
24. Shelly | March 7th, 2008 at 7:27 am
Heh…Heh…I posted in November about ‘Livin in a small town’, so I totally get it…and I’m not laughing at John Mellencamp (or John Cougar, or John Cougar Mellencamp). I’m a true girl of the ’80′s.
Racism is alive and well—apparently everywhere, and not just in my midwestern community. I am JUST LIKE YOU and never know what to say when someone lets loose w/ some racist remark…. or sexist remark…….I want to shout really loud at them that they are IGNORANT, but since I don’t do well with confrontation, I usually just stand there with the proverbial ‘deer in the headlights’ look…….and wander away berating myself for not saying SOMETHING.
25. Danell | March 7th, 2008 at 1:10 pm
I may be laughing clear into next week at your description of Sunny.
26. exact time clock&hellip | March 9th, 2008 at 6:06 am
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