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“Quality of Life, Spirit of Place”

 

Vermont Views Magazine

Home Page

Features,

Articles

&

Columns


Our Man In

Marrakesh

Doug Hoyt


Vermont Diary

Wurz that?


An A-musing Life

Pass the Abundance Please, It's Next to The Holiday Pie

Nanci Bern


Selected Letters

Letter from Australia

Annie Matthews


Love In Action

Welcome Bay and Beyond

Elizabeth Hill


The First Glass

A book review

Vincent Panella


Meanderings

Broken twigs on snow

Charles Monette


Write Walk

Forging a Relationship with Fire

Susan Cruickshank


Finnish Fandango

IT'S ABSOLUTELY FREE !

Anneli Karniala


Monkey’s Cloak

A Gift for the Season

Jeri Rose


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Growing Up

Jeri Rose


Our Man In

Findhorn Foundation

Doug Hoyt


Vermont Diary

There are Four Seasons


Love In Action

A Walk Around the Block with Mister Rogers

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Authors Reviewed

The Animal One Thousand Miles Long: Seven Lengths of Vermont and Other Adventures — by Leath Tonino

Laura Stevenson


Write On!

Slow travel plans for the holidays

Charles Monette


Monkey’s Cloak

boy child

Charles Monette


Open Mind

So far it’s been a good run

Offie Wortham


On My Walks

Three New Images

Kate Hill Cantrill


Love In Action

Draining The Swamp at 510

Elizabeth Hill


An A-musing Life

Love’s Grace

Nanci Bern


Write Walk

Fall Epiphany

Susan Cruickshank


Meanderings

Tale of two skies

Charles Monette


Real Vermont Stories

Vermont “Maternity Homes”

Beth Kanell


Meanderings

eco-virtue, eco-ethos, eco-sin

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Resurrecting The Grail

Elizabeth Hill


Finnish Fandango

WHAT HAPPENED TO FRUGALITY?

Anneli Karniala


Write Walk

Django

Susan Cruickshank


On My Walks

One Art,

Elizabeth Bishop

Kate Hill Cantrill


Meanderings

In striking contrast

Charles Monette


Water’s Edge

Burying Roger

Nicola Metcalf


How I Write

2019

Publisher Challenge Essays

Vincent Panella


Our Man In

Vermont

Doug Hoyt


Vermont Authors Reviewed

Tony Weldon,

Drunk in the woods

Laura Stevenson


Love In Action

Ruminations From the

Yellow Brick Road

Elizabeth Hill


Write Walk

The Recipe

Susan Cruickshank


Monkey’s Cloak

Encase the world in iron

Charles Monette


Finnish Fandango

The Funeral

Anneli Karniala


Selected Letters

5,000 Vermonters at risk

Emily Cohen


Meanderings

Stones kicking back

Charles Monette


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Facets of Woo Woo

Jeri Rose


Love In Action

A Bowl of Cherries

Elizabeth Hill


Our Man In

Albuquerque

Doug Hoyt


Write Walk

The Fickleness of the Toronto Coffee Society

Susan Cruickshank


Real Vermont Stories

Two Kinds of Truth

Beth Kanell


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

A short recollection from fifty years ago

Jeri Rose


in between

How Very Rich and

Deep our Lives

Julia Ferarri


Love In Action

You and Me

Elizabeth Hill


Write Walk

Green Mountain Mourning

Susan Cruickshank


Monkey’s Cloak

Mexico City closed today

Charles Monette


Our Man In

Weston-super-Mare

Doug Hoyt


Meanderings

Mountain laurels in June, mountain laurels in bloom

Charles Monette


An A-musing Life

The Vital Un-Silencing

Nanci Bern


Our Man In

Belgium

Doug Hoyt


Old Lady Blog

Two Pieces

Toni Ortner


Real Vermont Stories

Real or Not Real? Famous Words of the Vermont Supreme Court

Beth Kanell


Our Man In

Kilkenny, Ireland

Doug Hoyt


Finnish Fandango

Watching the maestro

Anneli Karniala


Love In Action

The Hills of Nova Scotia

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Authors Reviewed

Beth Kanell, The Long Shadow

Laura Stevenson


Selected Letters

Blurb Writers At The Edge

Distler, Mayo, Innes


Water’s Edge

Walmart Universe

Nicola Metcalf


Write Walk

Random Birthdays

Susan Cruickshank


Meanderings

Another foggy morning

Charles Monette


Our Man In

Kilkenny, Ireland

Doug Hoyt


Write On!

George and Agnes

Howard Prussack


Meanderings

River of the Lonely Way

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Special

Elizabeth Hill


Open Mind

“When will they ever learn, when will they ever learn?”

A major essay;

part 3 of 4

The Immigration Act of 1924, or Johnson–Reed Act, including the Asian Exclusion Act and National Origins Act

Offie Wortham


Write Walk

Uncle Paul, Big Macs

& Thank You’s

Susan Cruickshank


Monkey’s Cloak

A robot picked my strawberry today

Charles Monette


Meanderings

Into the grey

Charles Monette


Meanderings

Mud bumps of April

Charles Monette


The First Glass

Speech to the congregation

Vincent Panella


Write Walk

Mud

Susan Cruickshank


Love In Action

Red-Handed

Elizabeth Hill


Finnish Fandango

TO READ OR NOT TO READ!

Anneli Karniala


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Division Tactics

Jeri Rose


SCREENplay

Wildlife

Lawrence Klepp


World & US Energy News

Environment there and here, Special Report by Phil Innes

Phil Innes


Old Lady Blog

Trapped, part II

Toni Ortner


Urban Naturalist

A Loud and Colorful Advance Party Marks the End of Hogle Sanctuary's Winter Silence

Lloyd Graf


Monkey’s Cloak

And Still

Phil Innes


Open Mind

What is Trump’s “Base”?

Offie Wortham


Old Lady Blog

Trapped

Toni Ortner


Water’s Edge

Two Knives

Nicola Metcalf


Love In Action

Dance Everybody Dance

Elizabeth Hill


Open Mind

Why are 380 people in prison in Vermont without a trial?

Offie Wortham


SCREENplay

At Eternity’s Gate

Lawrence Klepp


Monkey’s Cloak

All’s relative

Charles Monette


Meanderings

February thermoplasticity

Charles Monette


Finnish Fandango

SAFETY IN NUMBERS?

Anneli Karniala


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Lessons We Must Learn

Jeri Rose


SCREENplay

Stan and Ollie

Lawrence Klepp


in between

What In your Life

is Calling You?

Julia Ferarri


Love In Action

ElizaVanGoghbeth

Elizabeth Hill


Monkey’s Cloak

Kairos

Phil Innes


Write On!

Unpacking Weaponized Masculinity

Greg Hessel


Vermont Diary

Five Chill Words


From The Archive

Evolution of democracy from economy to ecology


Water’s Edge

Ruminations on Kale

Nicola Metcalf


Vermont Diary

490 — a Record!


Vermont Diary

Caravanserai


Write Walk

Auld Lang Syne

Susan Cruickshank


Monkey’s Cloak

Ultima thule

Charles Monette


Open Mind

Transcultural Awareness Dining

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

A Ladybug’s New Year

Elizabeth Hill


An A-musing Life

One Moment, Please

Nanci Bern


Open Mind

Secret Voting in Congress, The Answer to the Gridlock

Offie Wortham


FOODISH

Scandinavian Christmas Dishes

Feature Article

Anneli Karniala


Vermont Diary

Newz and the perennial season


Meanderings

Sunday quiet

Charles Monette


Finnish Fandango

WHAT'S THE RUSH?

Anneli Karniala


in between

An Encroaching Lawlessness

Julia Ferarri


Water’s Edge

Morning on the Mountain

Nicola Metcalf


Old Lady Blog

For the gardener who is gone

Toni Ortner


Meanderings

Moments of Silence

Charles Monette


Write Walk

Shower Etiquette

Susan Cruickshank


Love In Action

Choosing Hope

Elizabeth Hill


Monkey’s Cloak

Walls Have Ears

Alan Rayner


SCREENplay

Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Lawrence Klepp


Water’s Edge

Italian Impressions

Nicola Metcalf


Urban Naturalist

An Austere Hogle Sanctuary Sleeps in Beneath a Chill Sunday Morning Sun

Lloyd Graf


Write Walk

Apple Cottage Cheese Pancakes

Susan Cruickshank


Open Mind

Why do we really have a drug problem in Vermont?

Offie Wortham


SCREENplay

Colette

Lawrence Klepp


Love In Action

Of Home

Elizabeth Hill


Monkey’s Cloak

a rainbow swirling jet stream

Charles Monette


Finnish Fandango

Apple-bobbing and Remembering the Dead

Anneli Karniala


An A-musing Life

Witch Hat To Wear

Nanci Bern


Write On!

TYRANT!

Phil Innes


The First Glass

TEXAS TOAST, VOLUNTEERING FOR BETO — Parts I & 2

Vincent Panella


Vermont Diary

Has Bean Has Travelled


Meanderings

Apache foggy morning

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Spiritual Smorgasbord for Soul Sisters

Elizabeth Hill


Finnish Fandango

BUT (YOU SAY) IT'S ONLY A BOOK !

Anneli Karniala


Write Walk

Where’s the Gravy?

Susan Cruickshank


Vermont Diary

Twelve Good Men


World & US Energy News

Just one day in the energy life of the planet

September 2018

George Harvey


Selected Letters

Why I chose to look ugly, and the reasoning behind it.

Susan Polgar


SCREENplay

The Wife

Lawrence Klepp


Finnish Fandango

Got Milk? --

Not this kind, you don't!

Anneli Karniala


The First Glass

Typewriter days

Vincent Panella


Meanderings

Beyond the bees

Charles Monette


Old Lady Blog

Focused Light from a Different Star


Part 1 Self Portrait Frida Kahlo 1940

Creation of the Birds


Part 2 Remedios Varo 1958


Part 3 Join, Elizabeth Murray, 1980


Part 4 IXI by Susan Rothenberg 1977


Part 5 The Artist’s Wife in the Garden at Skagen 1893


Part 6 Gathering Paradise, Sandy Skoglund, 1991,

color Cibachrome photograph


Part 7 The Savage Sparkler, Alice Aycock, 1981, steel, sheet metal, heating coils, florescent lights, motors and fans

Toni Ortner


Water’s Edge

A Touch is All it Takes

Nicola Metcalf


Write Walk

Ladies I Need Your Help

Susan Cruickshank


Gallery One

#1 Sennen

#2 Surfing at Portreath

#3 Air Mail?

#4 Tall Ship at the Brixham Pirate Fest

#5 You can’t have a pirate ship without pirates

Anne Lenten, Ed.


Love In Action

Rainbow Connections

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

Woodier


Urban Naturalist

Blink little fire-beetle, flash and glimmer

Lloyd Graf


Monkey’s Cloak

You Can’t Do That

Charles Monette


Selected Letters

How To Evaporate Hate?

Black Panther meets Klansman

Offie Wortham and Curtiss Reed Jr.


in between

Losing the Garden

Julia Ferarri


Write Walk EXTRA

Rabid Fan & Conversion

Susan Cruickshank


Finnish Fandango

Crossing The Finnish Line

Anneli Karniala


Meanderings

The Blazing Sun

Charles Monette


Love In Action

To Have a Piece of Cake

Elizabeth Hill


Write Walk

Is that You Aunt Helen?

Susan Cruickshank


An A-musing Life

Letting if flow

Nanci Bern


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Lessons We Must Learn

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

hell to swelter

Charles Monette


The First Glass

Sleeping With Herodotus

Vincent Panella


Water’s Edge

Maine morning

Nicola Metcalf


Selected Letters

How Can an Educated Person be Poor in Our Affluent Society?

Anonymous


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

“Thus, I was of the opinion...”

Jeri Rose


Open Mind

Affirmative Action should be based on Need not Race!

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

Mother and Child

Elizabeth Hill


SCREENplay

Ten Minute Plays

Lawrence Klepp


Meanderings

Understory vines

Charles Monette


An A-musing Life

Of hippos and their snacks

Nanci Bern


Write Walk

I See You

Susan Cruickshank


Love In Action

Fifty Years of Gratitude in One Beautiful Weekend

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

Don’t free Tibet, yet


Monkey’s Cloak

to Mother Teresa

András Adorján


Selected Letters

Compassion is volunteering to feed the hungry

Jane Southworth


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Perfect

Jeri Rose


in between

Searching For All the Moments We Put on Hold

Julia Ferarri


Open Mind

So what is Donald Trump

Offie Wortham


Write Walk

Fake News & Side-Seams

Susan Cruickshank


Write On!

In Light of Pee

Nicola Metcalf


Love In Action

May Hem at 510

Elizabeth Hill


Old Lady Blog

Horoscope & Water Wars

Toni Ortner


Meanderings

Here comes the sun

Charles Monette


Monkey’s Cloak

I set myself afire

Charles Monette


Write Walk

barking soliloquies

Susan Cruickshank


SCREENplay

Film Stars Don’t Die in Liverpool

Lawrence Klepp


Love In Action

Blooming through the gloaming

Elizabeth Hill


Monkey’s Cloak

Ode to a Goddess

Charles Monette


Open Mind

Black Man/Black Panther

Offie Wortham


Meanderings

Peaceful

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Shawabty and Snowdrops

Elizabeth Hill


SCREENplay

Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri

Lawrence Klepp


Monkey’s Cloak

I’ll stay here till I get here

Charles Monette


Old Lady Blog

Writer and Agent

Toni Ortner


Vermont Diary

The American Way


Guest Column

Covered Bridge Cathedral

Susan Cruickshank


SCREENplay

The Darkest Hour

Lawrence Klepp


Love In Action

Not So Plain Jane

Elizabeth Hill


An A-musing Life

The Resolution Revolution

Nanci Bern


Write Walk

The Man on Newfane Hill

Susan Cruickshank


Guest Article

LETTERS FROM CUBA — 15

Some sentences from Cuba

Mac Gander


Guest Article

LETTERS FROM CUBA — 13

What’s time to a shoat?

Shanta Lee Gander


Open Mind

“Social Relationships”

Offie Wortham


Monkey’s Cloak

Untitled

Phil Innes


Vermont Diary

Like a Dan Shore Report


Love In Action

My Weekend with Lenny

Elizabeth Hill


The First Glass

This Poet Walks Into A Bar...

Vincent Panella


SCREENplay

Lady Bird

Lawrence Klepp


Monkey’s Cloak

Whither the storm?

Todd Vincent Crosby


Urban Naturalist

“...spanning 6 1/2 to 7 feet”

Lloyd Graf


Vermont Diary

Women,

you can’t get there from here


Selected Letters

Who do fools fall in love — Letter from a friend

Offie Wortham


Open Mind

Multiculturalism is the opposite of Integration

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

The Fruitcake Caper

Elizabeth Hill


in between

OUR EXPECTATIONS

Julia Ferarri


An A-musing Life

Cut To The Core

Nanci Bern


Monkey’s Cloak

75 at tea

Todd Vincent Crosby


SCREENplay

Wonderstruck

Lawrence Klepp


Monkey’s Cloak

All souls’ elegy

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Little Miss Buster

Elizabeth Hill


Old Lady Blog

Gapstow Bridge

Toni Ortner


Urban Naturalist

A Slow Day at Hogle Sanctuary is Salvaged by a Furry Visitor's Aquatic Star Turn

Lloyd Graf


Monkey’s Cloak

You cancelled your vacation

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Thay

Elizabeth Hill


Meanderings

Light footprints

Charles Monette


An A-musing Life

A Remembrance of Yom Kippur Angels and the Dancing Rabbi

Nanci Bern


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Bread and Circuses 

Jeri Rose


The First Glass

DEMOLITION

Vincent Panella


Urban Naturalist

Nighthawks

Lloyd Graf


SCREENplay

Wind River

Lawrence Klepp


Old Lady Blog

A Cross By The Sea

Toni Ortner


Love In Action

A Man Named Shin

Elizabeth Hill


Guest Article

Highland Fling

A series of articles, part 3

Tyndrum

Alan Rayner


Meanderings

Full Circle Meander

Charles Monette


Selected Letters

A Rational Solution to our Dilemma in Afghanistan.

Offie Wortham


An A-musing Life

Charlottesville

The Heart of the Serpent

Nanci Bern


Monkey’s Cloak

Malvern Hill

Charles Monette


SCREENplay

Dunkirk

Lawrence Klepp


Open Mind

So Who Came

To Your Funeral?

Offie Wortham


Monkey’s Cloak

Cicero’s Hands

Mike Murray


Open Mind

2030 — a short story

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

How To Fold A Presby Cap

Elizabeth Hill


Meanderings

A July summer’s midday morn

Charles Monette


in between

Reflection

Julia Ferarri


An A-musing Life

The Art of Flight

Nanci Bern


Vermont Diary

For The Birds


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Jumping Through Time

in My Life

Jeri Rose


Love In Action

Baby Buddha

Elizabeth Hill


Open Mind

A Transcultural Awareness Experience

Offie Wortham


Old Lady Blog

A Blackbird with Snow Covered Red Hills 1946

for Georgia O’Keefe

Toni Ortner


Monkey’s Cloak

overflowingly so

Charles Monette


The First Glass

John Dante’s Inferno,

A Playboy’s Life -

by Anthony Valerio

Vincent Panella


Love In Action

From the Hands

of Our Fathers

Elizabeth Hill


SCREENplay

Their Finest

Lawrence Klepp


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Rights and privileges 

Jeri Rose


Open Mind

Does Lifestyle Matter more than Race?

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

Robin in the rain

Elizabeth Hill


The First Glass

Luck

Vincent Panella


Vermont Diary

Change of Season


Selected Letters

Immigrants in Vermont

Philip B. Scott, Governor


Old Lady Blog

The language I speak

is a language of grief

Toni Ortner


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Tarnished Gold

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

Other voices

Charles Monette


SCREENplay

Elle

Lawrence Klepp


An A-musing Life

The Great Exodus-Salamanders and Passover Crossings

Nanci Bern


An A-musing Life

One Sip at a Time

Nanci Bern


Love In Action

This Land

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

The British Aren’t Coming — Alas


Open Mind

But The Goalposts Keep Moving!

Offie Wortham


Meanderings

‘Beware the ides of March’

Charles Monette


Write On!

Grey Tower

Phil Innes


The First Glass

Writing like a Painter

Vincent Panella


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Racism vs Sexism

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

Ice floes slow

Charles Monette


Urban Naturalist

The Sanctuary in Late Winter:

a Long-Deferred Visit to Hogle Offers Rewards and Raises Concerns

— part 2 —

Lloyd Graf


Love In Action

Mein Yertle

Elizabeth Hill


SCREENplay

Lion

Lawrence Klepp


Urban Naturalist

The Sanctuary in Late Winter:

a Long-Deferred Visit to Hogle Offers Rewards and Raises Concerns

— part 1 —

Lloyd Graf


Meanderings

White as Snow

Charles Monette


Love In Action

People Power in Pink

Elizabeth Hill


Open Mind

Populism

Offie Wortham


Meanderings

White Buffalo in the Sky

Charles Monette


Monkey’s Cloak

Venus Smiled

Charles Monette


An A-musing Life

A resolute spirit

Nanci Bern


The First Glass

For the Birds

Vincent Panella


Love In Action

New Year’s Reflections on

“Charlotte’s Web”

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

Spiritual Theft in the

Year of the Monkey


SCREENplay

Manchester by the Sea

Lawrence Klepp


Meanderings

White Mountain

Charles Monette


The First Glass

San Diego, Ocean Beach – November 17, 2016

Vincent Panella


SCREENplay

Allied

Lawrence Klepp


Monkey’s Cloak

Oh, Holidays

Nanci Bern


Old Lady Blog

Gone/ All Gone

Toni Ortner


An A-musing Life

Mushroom Soup with John

Nanci Bern


in between

FEAR

Julia Ferarri


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Racism vs Sexism

Jeri Rose


Meanderings

Last leaves leaving

Charles Monette


Love In Action

Braveheart

Elizabeth Hill


Urban Naturalist

Hogle in Fall:

a Subdued Sanctuary Hunkers Down for Winter

Lloyd Graf


Vermont Diary

Quality of Life


An A-musing Life

11/12 and Counting

Nanci Bern


World & US Energy News

Nov 15 Just one day in the energy life of the planet

George Harvey


Meanderings

As if

Charles Monette


Open Mind

What Will Become Of The Trump Faithful?

Offie Wortham


Monkey’s Cloak

Clouds

Charles Monette


Write On!

Castle Dor


Vermont Diary

Words or Deeds


SCREENplay

Sully

Lawrence Klepp


Love In Action

Living in the Twilight Zone

Elizabeth Hill


Meanderings

Evil frog monsters

Charles Monette


SCREENplay

The Girl on the Train

Lawrence Klepp


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Who Sleeps Daily in S.C.?

&

S.C. City Council

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

Why just now

Charles Monette


in between

After a Fire Puja

Julia Ferarri


Vermont Diary

Out of the closet


Old Lady Blog

LESBOS, GREECE

Toni Ortner


The First Glass

Journal Entry –

October 3, 2016

Vincent Panella


Meanderings

Another way up

Black Mountain

Charles Monette


SCREENplay

The Light Between Oceans

Lawrence Klepp


Love In Action

Déjà Vu at Asteroid Chasm

Elizabeth Hill


SCREENplay

Café Society

Lawrence Klepp


An A-musing Life

A Snow Bunny in Summer

Nanci Bern


Meanderings

The mountain was soft

Charles Monette


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

Malaise

Jeri Rose


Meanderings

Black Mountain

Charles Monette


Vermont Diary

Out of time


The First Glass

Who Art In : Moment : Youth

Vincent Panella


Urban Naturalist

THE HOGLE PANORAMA

Lloyd Graf


Love In Action

The Pony Man

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

Lots of words to it


Monkey’s Cloak

Beyond the pale

Charles Monette


Monkey’s Cloak

North York Moods

A series of observations and poems by Alan Rayner, part 7

‘Bridestones’


Love In Action

“The Missionary of Water”

Dr. Masaru Emoto

Elizabeth Hill


Selected Letters

Marbles

Offie Wortham


Old Lady Blog

from a forthcoming work...

Toni Ortner


in between

A QUIET RAIN FALLS

Julia Ferarri


Open Mind

The power of “Instant” News in producing stress and anxiety

Offie Wortham


An A-musing Life

Frost in the Summer

Nanci Bern


Vermont Diary

Birthday boy


Love In Action

Neptune and Jupiter

Elizabeth Hill


Monkey’s Cloak

North York Moods

A series of poems

by Alan Rayner, part 5

Howard’s Castle


Open Mind

Malcolm and Ali

Offie Wortham


Vermont Diary

SHOCK of the Present


Open Mind

Can we bite the bullet until after November?

Offie Wortham


Monkey’s Cloak

SHAVUOT

Nanci Bern


Monkey’s Cloak

five directions, five fingers, five roots

Charles Monette


Vermont Diary

US Politics for Forns from Yurp [part deux]


Monkey’s Cloak

UP NORTH

Phil Innes


Write On!

Women of the Mounds

Charles Monette


Open Mind

Colleges where your child can earn a Degree for Free

Offie Wortham


Love In Action

SEND IN THE CLOWNS

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

Ticks and Tourism


World & US Energy News

Just one day’s news

in early May

George Harvey


Old Lady Blog

Lights out or the weather of the apocalypse

Toni Ortner


Write On!

Daniel Berrigan

Charles Monette


Vermont Diary

Over the Mountain


Love In Action

The First Lady of the World

Elizabeth Hill


Monkey’s Cloak

May I

Charles Monette


Vermont Diary

Is the experiment with republics now over?


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

“How Drumpf wins”

Jeri Rose


Vermont Diary

WEIRD WYOMING — A LETTER TO ENGLAND


Vermont Diary

QUINTISH


Love In Action

THE DANCING FOOLS

Elizabeth Hill


Vermont Diary

PC, Euphemisms, including death and toilets


Urban Naturalist

AMPHIBIANS AND OTHER CRITTERS COPE WITH EQUINOCTAL CONFUSION

Lloyd Graf


Selected Letters

Tennessee Tensions

Rob Mitchell


Vermont Diary

Couple pointers

for President Trump


Old Lady Blog

Call from a Scientologist friend

Toni Ortner


Archetypal Hippie Speaks

The Hinge of Perception

Jeri Rose


Monkey’s Cloak

Bird of transcendence

Matti Salminen


Vermont Diary

FLIGHT PATH OPTIONS


Monkey’s Cloak

Tibetan dream song

Charles Monette


in between

One hundred and twenty six years

Julia Ferarri


Love In Action

SUMMER, 1947

Elizabeth Hill




Vermont Views Magazine


A unique community supported cultural magazine exploring Quality of Life and Spirit of Place in our bio-region, with extraordinary photographs, 22 regular columnists plus feature articles, galleries & essays, new articles and photos every day. 100s more articles in the Archive.






Contact the magazine HERE


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PHOTO OF THE DAY


Vermont Yankee Nuclear Power Station

From an on-going series of aerial photos

Photo: Len Emery


(Yankee-Vernon) Yankee-Vernon: Most people don't see the proximity of Vernon Dam and Vermont Yankee on the Connecticut River in Vernon. The only thing that gives a clue is the Vernon generating station entrance on US Rt 5, which is close to Yankee. Vernon Dam generates approximately 32,000 KW of hydroelectric power for the region.  This photo was taken in August of 2016. Sources: HanoverConservancy.org, Wikipedia.org, Transcanada Power



PASSAGES


Harold Wilson

Text selections by Vermont Views


Given a fair wind, we will negotiate our way into the Common Market, head held high, not crawling in. Negotiations? Yes. Unconditional acceptance of whatever terms are offered us? No.


The ambition of the present Labour government is that every worker in the country will have a greater than average income.


"The main essentials of a successful prime minister are sleep and a sense of history."


"A week is a long time in politics."


"One man's wage increase is another man's price increase."


"The monarchy is a labor intensive industry."


"I'm at my best in a messy, middle-of-the-road muddle."


"I'm an optimist, but an optimist who carries a raincoat."


"Whichever party is in office, the Treasury is in power."


"Everybody should have an equal chance - but they shouldn't have a flying start."


The labour party is like a stage-coach. If you rattle along at great speed everybody inside is too exhilarated or too seasick to cause any trouble. But if you stop everybody gets out and argues about where to go next.



Read more PASSAGES >>>


Recent Passages By: Harold Wilson, Charles Dickens, Toni Morrison, Iris Murdoch,  David Hockney, Allen Ginsberg, Abigail Adams, Thomas Hardy, John Ruskin, Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Amy Lowell, Bernardo Bertolucci, Buffy Sainte-Marie, John Keats, David Niven - Actor, David Niven - PhD, Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Joan Didion, Pablo Casals, Geoffrey Chaucer, Muddy Waters, Aretha Franklin, Dorothy Maclean Read their work here



VERMONT AUTHORS REVIEWED


Leath Tonino,  Trinity University Press, 2018.

Reviewed by Laura Stevenson


Debut collection of essays from a young writer celebrating Vermont


The animal in the title is a creature Aristotle invented in The Poetics (7B) to demonstrate that an observer of a gigantic object could see only its parts, and thus lost perception of its "unity and wholeness." Tonino implicitly compares Vermont to this animal; his twenty essays, collected from periodicals published between 2011 and 2017, portray his adventures and observations in all parts of the state. Together, they also portray his impossible yearning to experience the whole by feeling "the infinite invitation that is the terrain of home."


Young and vigorous, Tonino is an enthusiastic adventurer. "Seven Lengths of Vermont," for example, opens with his vow, upon returning from several years "bumming around the West," to rediscover his native Vermont by touring it in seven different ways in the course of a year. The reader (presumably ensconced on a sofa) then becomes his vicarious companion as he hikes the length of the Long Trail, hitch-hikes around the state in over thirty rides; completes a three-week, 300-mile ski trek along the Catamount Trail; bikes through the state in a tour of some 500 miles; paddles 260 miles in a canoe trek along the Connecticut River; swims, in ten days, the length of Lake Champlain; and finally, climbs into a friend's small plane for a two-hour “vast and fast” flyover of the whole state. At the end of the year, Tonino has experienced parts of Vermont from many angles and at many different speeds in an attempt to understand the whole.


There are more parts, of course, and more ways to investigate them. In "The Smiles are Huge" Tonino goes jack-jumping, a winter sport practiced only in Vermont. Other portraits of his cold and exhausting winter adventures (biathlons, New Year's Day kayaking, sled-packing) prove that Vermont offers winter opportunities far beyond commercial skiing. Mingled with Tonino's delightfully ironic portrayals of his adventures are interesting considerations of Vermont's present wilderness (its official Wilderness areas) and its unofficial wildness, thousands of acres of trees that are the result of ecological collapse and subsequent regeneration. Between 1791 and the War of 1812, Tonino says, Vermont had the fastest growing population of any state in the union; a half-century later, its population had declined 40%. Why?


<extract, read on>


Read the full review and other reviewed titles in this column.

The Devil in the Valley — Castle Freeman, Jr.

Vermont Exit Ramps II — Neil Shepard and Anthony Reczek

Half Wild: Stories — Robin MacArthur

A Refugee's Journey: A Memoir — Walter Hess

Vermont Non-GMO Cookbook — Tracey Medeiros

Robin MacArthur, Heart Spring Mountain.

Jackson Ellis, Lords of St. Thomas

Chris Bohjalian, The Flight Attendant

Beth Kanell, The Long Shadow

Kimberly Harrington, Amateur Hour: Motherhood in Essays and Swear Words

Jessie Haas, Rescue

Toni Ortner, Writing Shiva

Tony Weldon, Drunk in the Woods

Aesop Lake, Sarah Ward

The Animal One Thousand Miles Long: Seven Lengths of Vermont and Other Adventures. Leath Tonino




NOT QUITE THE THING



Caption It!

MM Kizi


Series 27 images



SHORTS


46% Americans with drug experience, same number fear terrorism or mass shooting

Vermont Views


STATISTIC: More than a third of Americans say alcohol has caused trouble in family. More than a fourth report family troubles because of drug abuse. Altogether, 46% have experienced one or the other issue. Close to half of U.S. adults, 46%, have dealt with substance abuse problems in their family: 18% have had just alcohol problems and 10% have had just drug problems, while 18% have experienced both.


STATISTIC: 46% of Americans worried about being a victim of terrorism. 45% worried about being a victim of a mass shooting

Partisans' levels of worry changed after President Trump took office. As mass shootings and acts of terrorism have increased in the U.S. and are even tied together in some high-profile incidents, Americans are now equally worried that they or a family member will be a victim of each. Similar slim majorities of Americans are not worried that they or a family member will be a victim of terrorism or a mass shooting.


Read More shorts



Our Man In


Marrakesh

by Doug Hoyt


I have to say:  it’s not my favorite place. But for January, the weather is BOSS. Sun, sun, sun.


Last year in January was Seville.  Now THAT was fab.  Temps in the 60’s during the day, and skirting about freezing at night. Tapas to die for.  Total charm.   Marrakech is kind of ‘exotic’, but once you scratch the surface, it’s really kind of dirty and monotonous, and lots of side hustles and ripoffs (not that there’s anything wrong with that).  The Moroccan people are very gracious, and everybody speaks French, which is great, because just a few words of high school French make you feel like a native, kind of.  Ultra kind of.


<Extract> Click below to see more of this photo essay

Read More of this article >>>



VERMONT DIARY


Wurz that?

Phil Innes


The latest addition to Northern Vermont Public Radio is a fellow called Chris Kurzak who unfortunately reports on the weather with more than the usual New England swallowing of vowels, in any long sentence, above 5 words, he dispenses with them entirely, and even spaces between words, rendering his pronouncements incomprehensible. Seems strange to have a reporter with a speech defect.


It is usual for the weather station to report on Route 2, which if you live down here in the Deep South, is the relatively close road to us to Boston, but have no idea where the northern one is. Today we received notice that snow levels could be particularly high in the northern mountains and also on the Massachusetts border, without mention of Brattleboro, Wilmington or Bennington in particular, as if this might bore northern listeners — or those north of route 2, I should say.


As with the weather, it is an open joke that NPR doesn’t know where southern Vermont is, has been so for 35 years. Even a State senator told me so! And I did meet with their management corporately one day at a Brattleboro event held in a field, and they were all clustered together smiling and joking, and I mentioned I published an on-line magazine about quality of life and spirit of place with some 15 columnists. This was disconcerting to the group who continued their jovial but inert celebration together, and not only was there no promised follow up after exchange of business cards, I noted that I should not take this personally, since they ignored everyone else at the event too.


But isn’t Vermont the place where we achieve a realization of Jefferson’s Bill of Rights, not just in its potential, but in the actual manifestation of it? How about some stories from our vocal community to substantiate both its practice and its’ famed progress which the entire contry might hear? I had fondly thought that I could contribute substantial material to that prospect written by my columnists — and that it might be more compelling than Tales of Lake Wobegone and Norwegian White Man Farmers.


Nope.


Not just me neither. My opinion here is same as sentiment by senior organizers of the Strolling, as well as widespread in the arts community in Windham county, and especially about written material, a majority art most suitable for the radio.


We don’t get that from Northern Vermont Public Radio, we get slurred like Chris Kurzak’s weather report. All that gets reported is that the state’s dumping of certain psychiatric cases to the Retreat as occurred after the Waterbury facility literally went under during Irene, thence to be released ‘to the care of the community’ when their insurance runs out causes financial and other distress here, emphasis on local financial burden, rather than quality of life. It wasn’t just a flood of people then, it’s a river flowing south.


Are we like poor cousins in a banana republic run out of bananas, will turnips do?


Nope.


There is something far more lively going on here in terms of Planetary Consciousness than is reported by the fat cats up north who only identify with us since they are forced too, since we are also ‘Vermont’, and need mention now and again, perhaps even as a ‘gateway’ to the Real Vermont waiting tourist dollars and offering the best retirement homes?


Read More VERMONT DIARY >>>




AN A-MUSING LIFE


Pass the Abundance Please, It's Next to The Holiday Pie.

Nanci Bern


Act I


Holiday giving is grand! It is heart-opening. It is a way to celebrate loved ones and the meaning they bring to your life. Even the shopping is amazing…sometimes. To craft or become one with the Borg-like world of consumerism? You figure that out for yourself. I have my own problems.


But, what about receiving? How also grand is that?!?  What better time a year is there to go about getting what you want?  You don’t care about getting anything for yourself? (sorry, I don’t buy that, pun intended). Don’t you deserve it? I think we all deserve to give ourselves some goodies. If that were not the case then why are there so many articles, books, and judgments about it?


You don’t know what I am talking about? Let’s tweak one word a smidge. Instead of ‘receiving’ try ‘manifesting’. Didn’t I just see a flyer for a workshop about that? Oh, wait, it’s at the same time I planned to go to the mall. Oh, no! What to do, what to do!


So should I go to the ‘Magical Manifestation Workshop’ or go to the place with the soft pretzel kiosk, so reminiscent of my NYC home, where I can happily munch and wipe mustard from my chin while filling a cart with loving smiles for others?


To manifest is to bring forth. But a manifest is also a list, such as a flight manifest. So to manifest is to bring forth a list of, presumably one’s desires, at least in the self-help workshop world.


Therefore, to manifest is the ability to make something happen, to bring something toward you. Just don’t get hit by one of its wings as it flies by you in all of your I-just-called-this-forth exuberance.


“Huh”, she said pondering the poster and sipping a fancy holiday coffee, of which she allows herself one during ‘the season’.  (yeah, right, just one). <extract>


Read more Nanci Bern



SELECTED LETTERS


Annie Matthews is a friend from childhood, a world explorer now resident in the Western suburbs of Sydney Australia


We have been inundated with enquiries about the fires/us so I thought it was time to send a report/update on the Armageddon-like chaos in our part of the world. Sorry that this is so long, but once I get started . . . !!

 

Thanks to all for your concern but we are fine, other than breathing in disgusting air – Sydney has been officially more polluted than Beijing and Delhi! – and sweltering in 40+ degrees. Bar the long-burning (over two months) fires north and west of Sydney, most of the really dramatic stuff you’ve been seeing recently is way south of the city – between 200 and 500 km away – and over the border in Victoria. Terrible situation and it will flare up again tomorrow, with temperatures in the 40s and strong winds. The fire front is expected to be 70 km long – how do you escape that sort of monster? People are being evacuated from many towns but other problems have been: a) no power so no TV/radio for fire updates; b) no mobile phone reception; c) roads closed so towns running out of fuel, food and clean drinking water.

 

So far, hundreds of homes and other buildings burnt to the ground, 16 dead in NSW (including three firefighters), several dead and 28 missing in Victoria – not sure about the other states. Livestock and wildlife dying in huge numbers – eg: it is believed that about 350 koalas perished around Port Macquarie on the NSW north coast. If this isn’t a crisis, what is?

 

The State governments are doing what they can but the biggest problem is our useless Federal Government, led by the moronic Scott Morrison, who was warned early last year by many eminent scientists and fire experts that this dire situation was likely to occur. He turned down pleas for more water-bombing aircraft, more funding for firefighting, and numerous other measures (including getting the armed forces involved; they are now  – including an evacuation of a town in Victoria by the Navy – but a bit bloody late):


Read more of this and other letters to Vermont Views >>>



LOVE IN ACTION


Elizabeth Hill


"Tena koutou!"

Pronounced: Te Na Ko Uh Too Uh.

(In Māori this means “Hello” to more than three people)



In 1998, while I was living at Findhorn in Scotland, a young woman from New Zealand gave me an amazingly powerful energy healing using a pendulum. At the time, I knew very little about New Zealand except that the Māori people live there—many of whom were known as healers. 


My interest peaked even more when, in the early 2000’s, I saw a movie called “Whale Rider,” which, over the years, I’ve watched many times by streaming online. It not only gives me a taste of the Māori culture and customs, it also fills me with hope for how the arts can fully integrate into everyday life as healing, education, and spiritual practice, instead of what I call “competitive arts” that make up much of the world’s current gallery system. 


Māori are the “tangata whenua” (the indigenous people) of New Zealand. According to legend, they arrived there sometime between 1320 and 1350 in groups of waka (long canoes), having journeyed from a mythical eastern Polynesian homeland called Hawaiki. They named their new land Aotearoa, which in Māori language means “land of the long white cloud.” 


Over centuries of isolation, the Māori developed their own unique culture of language, mythology, crafts, and performing arts that distinguished themselves from other Polynesian groups.


Inevitably, the arrival of Europeans in New Zealand, starting in the 17th century, brought enormous changes to the Māori way of life. 


When Dutch explorer Abel Tasman first saw the island nation, he called it Zeeland, which, in Dutch, translates to Sealand. Zeeland is a province in the Netherlands, and in 1645, Dutch cartographers renamed the land Nova Zeelandia after that province. 


Subsequently, British explorer James Cook anglicised the name to New Zealand. 


Today, Māori make up 14% of the nation’s population, and some say their history, language, and traditions are central to New Zealand's identity. 


Extract... Read More Elizabeth Hill >>>



THE FIRST GLASS


A book review

Vincent Panella


not for nothing, by Kathy Curto, published Bordighera Press.

 

Kathryn Curto's memoir of a New Jersey girlhood is a dead on look at an Italian-American family working to make ends meet while trying to preserve traditional values. In a  lively writing style Curto evokes the days of Springsteen and the onset of the drug culture as her own coming of age is tempered by a Roman Catholic upbringing and an over protective father.


 While Curto's memories resonate with the warmth of life, there’s also the down side, and like Beatrice with Dante she brings us into that darker world of a family trying to settle into the permissive American landscape. Curto shows us the domineering father protective of his daughter and in competition with a rebellious son, but she also draws a picture of her mother as the force in the family. As Puzo showed us in The Fortunate Pilgrim, the Italian-American woman can be the real power, and here on the Jersey shore where we can smell the ocean and taste the clam sauce it’s the mother who shepherds the family through thick and thin.


 There’s an old saying that blood is thicker than water, and this memoir is aptly titled. ‘Not for nothing’ does one scrub and sweep and hold a family together, and ‘not for nothing’ does Curto remind us, how, like Dylan Thomas, "Time held me green and dying/Though I sang in my chains like the sea."


<extract>  Read More >>>



MEANDERINGS


Broken twigs on snow

Charles Monette


Broken twigs on snow.  Brittle black brown.  Snow wet from mid-40 highs.  It’s late December, a non-descript day tween Christmas & New Years.  We’ll wish each other a “Happy, Healthy” Tuesday eve, and hope for the best.  2020 looms with uncertainty.  Even the forest feels unsure…


A new oak walking stick, replete with rubber bottom tip, aids my ascent, anchoring my slippage.  Mostly unnecessary, until twas needed, especially coming back downhill.


Walking from the Black Mountain road trailhead, the path is centered icy black with melt-shrunk, then frozen prints of feet.  Slippery!  I walk on the edges.  The snow had been melting in rain and sun since the last storm.  Already gone all wet in large spots of trail, revealing dark dead soaked leaves clump-wadded together.  Off trail, swirls of pine needles lay atop small boulders in pleasant sun swept forms accented by light green lichens.  Glowing damp! Shining rusty!  Some resembled ancient waves crashing softly ashore.


A Christmas present of The Zen Book of Life informs my hike with wisdom from the great masters.  Buddha, Thich Nhat Hanh, Alan Watts, etc., etc.  A Zen saying, “In this moment what is lacking.”  So, I write of Black Zen mountain as I know it today: 


<extract> Read more of this and other articles by Charles Monette >>>



WRITE WALK


Forging a Relationship with Fire

Susan Cruickshank


Fire: primal, powerful and mesmerizing— and for me, an elusive, antagonistic teacher, whose wisdoms have not been easily shared. 


I can light a fire; I can get it going…..but then….smoke.


I would have given up building fires long ago if my need for its heat source while house-sitting in Newfane hadn’t been critical for daily life. Forging a relationship with this wily force has required an ongoing effort. But as my commitment has deepened with this unpredictable and often frustrating friend, I have also discovered that its lessons resonate in other parts of my life and have illuminated them as well.



Fire-Starting Wisdoms for Everyday Life: 


Time:

After the flash of a matchstick and the subsequent excitement that comes from bits of kindling and newspaper burning up in a fireworks display, no matter how tempting it might be to throw a giant log on the flames and go make coffee, DON’T. 


The initial flames of fire can be a misleading distraction to the unrefined eye. Their showy brilliance only makes it look like a fire has been established.  But superficial flames don’t mean that the heat of the fire has pierced the interior of the log and taken hold, which is the real key to fire success.


In life, experience has taught me that anything which looks grand and slick at the onset, often ends up not to be, and conversely, the things which don’t look like much at the beginning have proven to be my greatest treasures.


<Extract> Read More Susan Cruickshank >>>



Finnish Fandango


IT'S ABSOLUTELY FREE !

Anneli Karniala


At the end of November, I was driving past the local high school from which I and two others in my family graduated. It is much larger now than when I attended, yet every time I drive by, one more memory pops into my head about classmates, teachers, classrooms, sports from days gone by. And back in the early 1960's there was no giant bulletin board in front of the school like there is now.


So when I drove by and saw the two simple words "Civility Matters", I was surprised. Pleased. Proud. Not surprised. Sad.


What are we experiencing in society today that causes a high school message board, visible to all passersby on a busy street, to make a point of CIVILITY?


I immediately thought of the current inhabitant of the White House. I cannot even bring myself, with good conscience, to use the word 'leader', since I understand a leader to be a positive force, one to emulate, one who is intelligent, kind, understanding, and helpful. One who is a role model for others, especially for children.


What we currently have is a 'non-leader'. A negative force. One with no virtues to emulate. One without mental, psychological, or social intelligence, and who is hateful, cannot comprehend or hold a thought, who is unsympathetic. A person who is in no way a positive role model for adults and certainly not for children, because the main tenet is based on lying, cheating, demeaning, bullying, yelling, womanizing, insulting, and boasting.


So, in a nutshell, per definition this non-leader is truly UNCIVIL. And why does THAT matter?


Extract Read more Anneli Karniala



MONKEY’S CLOAK


A Gift for the Season

Jeri Rose                     


If God reveal to you

how holy Being creates

what you know

as reality so you

can see even your sight

is creation all part

of making happening

in time you are in

though no time relevant

to that revelation.

Does your breath intake

a gasp? Your heart

beat firmer for awe

an electric neural net

activate in your skin?

Your personal recognition

of unity in a floor underfoot

and all around

and even the air between

nothing outside

the balm of spirit

bathes you forever.


<extract> Read more Monkey’s Cloak



ARCHETYPAL HIPPIE SPEAKS


Growing Up

Jeri Rose


When I was in sixth grade, Adlai Stevenson ran for president. The news made a big deal out of him having a hole in his shoe. I thought that was disgraceful and unworthy of a person being president and went to the Republican headquarters and said I wanted to work for Eisenhower. As I was a young child, the local party leaders came to my home and spoke to my parents to find out if they were OK with having me volunteer.  I guess, my mother fielded that one because I did not get to do any political action.


Looking back on the situation, I recognize now that Adlai Stevenson was an excellent choice for president. I can forgive myself for shallow values at that age. Since then, I have seen perfectly good public servants drummed out of the possibility of leadership for saying WOW, for having a private affair, for being incapable of saving a person who was in the car with them when they had an accident. 


Then I can also see that a good half of this country is willing to have as their leader a blatant womanizer and molester of underaged females, who cheats those who work for him, who encourages racism and violence, who considers the role of president to be akin to being a king be president and this half of the country are willing to take arms against any who would depose him.


I also see a Democratic party willing to allow that half of the country to have that leader if they can not have their choice as their nominee. The Democrats consider themselves a private club that has the right to ignore the will of the people and that party leadership considers our votes to be mere suggestions. They presume to know better than we do what is in our best interests. Furthermore, they wish to dismantle the Electoral College which was created in order to balance the needs of the farmers against the numbers in the cities. They do not see that they need to find the means to present a platform that convinces the farmers that what they stand for will support and be in the best interests of those whose vast land labors feed the country.


We are at a place in our history more devastating than the one we were in when we actually were engaged in a Civil War.


<extract> Read more Jeri Rose >>>






WRITE ON !


Slow travel plans for the holidays

by Charles Monette



over the river and through the woods afire

to grandma’s house we go


just been accused of train bragging, of bein a choo choo braggart,

of bein a no-good gasbag, a vapor, a blowhard in the wind


okay, Big freakin Green new deal, mock me because I

bought some train tickets, instead of takin an aeroplane


I’ll admit to some eco-anxiety, suggest to some friends that

they do the same… you know, use mass transit to ease the footprint


might ride the train, but I ain’t no whistleblower, No siree

bravado aside, I’m here to tell ya, I’m just tryin to get to net zero


and I have slow travel plans for the holidays… sooooooo

I’d walk, but it’s 500 miles


<Extract>

Read More of this article >>>



OPEN MIND


So far it’s been a good run

Offie Wortham


<extract> After attending 7 other colleges and getting degrees from 5 of them, including a Master’s and a PhD, I married four times, had three partners, (for a total of 55 years) and around 30-40 girlfriends before, between, and after these committed relationships. I once had a stable of 5, and had a lot of fun with my hobby. From two of the marriages I have three wonderful daughters, who have given me seven beautiful grandchildren.


Eventually, there were over 60 cars, including a new Porsche convertible, a red Jaguar, three BMW’s, an MG convertible, three Mercedes, an Alpha Romeo, a jet black businessman’s BMW motorcycle; and five other convertibles. Have lived in seven homes and over 20 apartments in New York, Atlanta, New Jersey, Philadelphia, Vermont, Ohio, Santa Monica, and San Francisco. Have been to Paris, Switzerland, London, Italy, Spain, and the Bahamas so far.


I was a Community Organizer and Director of many large programs on college campuses and in several major cities and national human and civil rights organizations. I had my own office and lab conducting experiments at IBM’s top “Blue Sky” research facility in the world. As a Senior Electronic Research Technician, or “Rocket Scientist”, I did final tests on the Saturn Missile at Douglas Missile & Space prior to launches in the California deserts preparing for the first moon landings.


I worked closely with the FBI in 1971 initially developing the obscure concept of “Psychological Profiling.” Around that time I also collaborated with the American Cancer Society to promote a button I conceived reading “HELP! Your smoking is hazardous to my health” which began the movement against second-hand smoke worldwide. I had dinner and dialogue with Eleanor Roosevelt, Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, and Coretta King. I lived 6 months with Pete Seeger and Toshie. Went with Harry Belafonte and 7 students to confront President Eisenhower at the White House about his resistance to support the 1954 Supreme Court Decision on school desegregation.


But like any long journey, there have been some rough times. I’ve had cancer and lost my prostate. Fell on ice and had serious brain surgery. Broke my neck and lost a front tooth playing high school football. The late discovery of the broken neck at a special examination at West Point prevented me from becoming the youngest person ever in the AF Aviation Cadets and possibly the first black in the Air Force Academy. I had scored the highest score ever on the AFOQT which is the test all graduates of the Air Force Academy, West Point, Annapolis, and OCS must pass to get admitted into pilot or astronaut training. I was only 20.


<extract>    Read More Offie Wortham >>>



ON MY WALKS


Three New Images

Kate Hill Cantrill


A New Series introducing the photography of Kate Hill Cantrill with text or poetry selection of her choice.



"It is possible to imagine a person so entirely that the image resists attempts to dislodge it." 

Amy Hempel



<extract> See more Kate Hill Cantrill >>>









Real Vermont Stories


Vermont “Maternity Homes”

by Beth Kanell


It began with a postcard. My husband Dave (who passed last April) collected them: colorful Vermont scenes, yes, but more importantly the black-and-white ones from the late 1800s and early to mid 1900s that showed actual scenes, especially in the Northeast Kingdom. There are hundreds of St. Johnsbury and Lyndonville images in his collection—but, proportional to both town size and events that seemed worth marketing as photographs, there are very few from, say, Granby or Victory in Essex County.

Or from Concord.

Dave plunged me into a new research project when he found a card labeled “Quimby Maternity Home, Concord, Vt.” His knowledge of postcard publishers and some quick investigation prompted him to added the information “1949–1953.”

As we, and then I, probed further, we found more than 50 documented births that took place, not just in the Quimby (also called Graves, for nurse Ardella “Nana” Graves — illustrated) Maternity home, but also in the Austin Maternity Home in the same small town (this one, run by Leah Virginia Austin). And both were clearly “supervised” by the local doctor, Frederick Russell Dickson, M.D.

“Maternity homes” in the rest of America seem to have often been places for unwed mothers to give birth and send their babies out for adoption. Dave and I found a single request from an adoptee born in 1946 at a Concord maternity home for clues to his parentage. But that turned out to be the exception. Online access led us to birth certificates of many babies simply born in these more supportive, medically encouraged “homes.” Mothers could arrive a day early, stay a few days afterward, have a break from parenting and get a good start with the new arrival.

But such maternity homes were not well documented. In the case of the ones in Concord, Dr. Dickson worked under contract for the local paper mill, which provided him space for a “dispensary,” and cared for many more illnesses, injuries, and preventive cases than the babies being born—and no records from the two maternity homes have been located.

So Dave and I went to local Facebook “pages” and “groups,” where residents current and past share their memories. To our astonishment, we discovered another maternity home that took patients at the same time period, the early 1900s, and it was about 20 miles from Concord, in Lyndonville, Vermont.


<Extract>

Read More of this article >>>



WATER’S EDGE


Burying Roger

Nicola Metcalf


When I think of Roger, I think of his shoes. Practical brown leather walking shoes with laces. They were blown out on the sides, but he kept wearing them in the fashion of Quakers who intend to live simple lives and avoid the seeds of war.  At times, I thought this was simply taking things a bit too far. Feet vulnerable to ice, water, and snow in our New England climate. Something about the shoes accented Roger’s gnome-like persona. He was of small stature, with frizzled gray hair and beard, and wore clean but old and sometimes threadbare clothing. He had a ready twinkle in his eye and mischievous grin. His shoes were still functional enough, however, and I understood Roger’s refusal to add them to our pile of human garbage on the planet.


When we buried Roger, it was a beautiful and very warm June day, just shy of uncomfortably hot. Twenty or so of us gathered at the burial ground where his grave had been dug the day before. Our many shovels leaned against the Meetinghouse nearby. Ice tea and water, lemonade and cookies were set up on a table in the shade of a tree, along with a bench and some folding chairs. His wife, Shirley, wore a long dress with a wide brimmed hat in her simple and elegant style. She carried a basket of flowers cut from their yard. At the appointed hour, an unmarked mini van from the funeral home backed up to the burial ground, nothing indicating it was a hearse.


When the appointed hour came, Roger’s son and daughter, along with Roger’s men’s group, gathered at the van’s open rear door. Wrapped in a shroud and lying on a quilt from his home, the body of their beloved father and dear friend emerged from the van. Grasping the sides of the quilt, they carried him to his grave lined on the bottom with fresh pine boughs. They squatted awkwardly as they negotiated how to lower him gently down. I worried for a moment that they might all tumble in after Roger. But it was only love I saw pouring into Roger’s grave, a lifetime of family, friendships and community. Love pouring into the earth right next to the Quaker Meetinghouse on land where he had worshipped for decades. Where he shouldered myriad tasks supporting the “life of the Meeting” and attended countless meetings and events.  Where he sang, played, laughed, cried, listened, and argued.  Where he ardently advocated for the things he believed in.


<extract> Read more Nicola Metcalf >>>



How I Write


Vincent Panella

THE CHANNEL


These journal entries center on a fragment written forty-odd years ago. I recently found the pages typed on carbon paper, yet through all those years I mulled over the story and its possibilities – a confined setting, clear situation, very few characters, maybe a one-act, maybe a short story, but still no desire to get back in. This summer I re-entered the typescript and came up with a story line that might work: 


A young man named Larry heads for Hollywood with a copy of his first novel soon to be published. The premise of the novel is a young man’s affair with his father’s lover. Larry’s car breaks down in the Mojave just outside of Barstow. He ends up in a radiator shop and there he meets a Samaritan type called Fenwick, also a writer, and they talk about his novel, what he invented, what he remembered – what was ‘true to life - and that blurry line between art and lived experience.


The dated entries here are edited for clarity. The original fragment was page after page about his car breaking down on a long hill.....almost nothing about substance, character, motivation, etc. Forty years ago – like now – I’m still learning. It’s working title was Barstow, but gradually a theme emerged, and the title Hill of Dreams helped me shape it. The entries span two months of this year but I must have worked on the story twice as long as that. In most cases the journal entries prompt the writing of actual text, which is done on screen, on paper, and sometimes with an Olivetti.


 7/21/19 - Took a look at what I did to Barstow - still on the opening, how I chopped it to s - - -. Now all the car details are almost gone – the old V-8 burning oil, the crankcase ventilation valve, oil gauge idiot light, the retread tires because the character has so little money.


 7/22 -  Woke up thinking Bartow was f----- -  that the whole gambit is a cliche - Larry writes a novel based on life, sort of – the premise being that his main character has an affair with his father’s lover. Larry has rendered a real life experience into a novel – his novel is within this story. The story is that that Larry’s heading for Cali with a novel in which the central action is drawn from his life and a threat to his family’s privacy. And his car breaks down on the long hill outside of town.


 – and where a movie producer is interested in the novel as Larry imagines famous actors playing his family members and what their reaction might be.


 Then his car breaks down on the Hill of Dreams. Fenwick (name borrowed from a Boll story) takes him to a hotel while he waits for a new radiator. They have some yet to be written convo about his situation, what he's written about his father etc. In the end Larry drives off into the sunset, back up the hill of dreams. End of story.


 Scene: "I call it the Hill of Dreams," Fenwick said, They were sitting in the hotel lobby at a small bar and tables with a view of a garden and a raft of Eucalyptus trees.


Fenwick points out the similarity between Larry and the Okies generations back -  heading for a new life out west, beaten by the hill, or not beaten....Fenwick there to pick up the pieces.


Larry felt a little buzz from the whiskey, a comfortable feeling, the big room with its open windows along the wall was cool and comfortable without any air conditioning as was his room where he'd slept well and long, realizing that the past four nights he'd been sleeping in the back seat of the Pontiac.


<Extract>

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IN BETWEEN


How Very Rich and Deep our Lives

Julia Ferrari


When we think about our own significant and varied personal history, it can seem as if our lives are the contents of a movie reel, unrolling…with glimpses of some particular event —events that are remembered and treasured, many forgotten … and some better off not remembered in detail, at all. The good ones, those memories we remember with fondness—those are the moments we can hold close. Those moments become a place we can return to in memory again and again, even though as they were being lived they were just ordinary moments passing beneath us. Indeed, there are likely many such moments in which, at the time they are happening, we are unaware that they will eventually become those precious ones.  


Remembering and revisiting positive or special events in our lives can make us feel very deeply, yet they were happening in moments that were fleeting, just like this moment. I remember one December when I was a young girl, as winter school vacation was out, we travelled in our camper down to Florida for Christmas. My mother was the traveller in the family, so she influenced us all and bestowed on me a deep love of traveling. We were driving late into the evening hoping to find something still open and found a park just as dusk was closing in. That winter night I remember seeing the amazing sight of Spanish Moss hanging like ancient beards from old oak trees in this very different climate, and the feeling of welcome from the cheerful, tiny but bright, multicolored Christmas lights that were hung at the entrance to the park. I remember the child in me feeling the realization that this holiday was celebrated here (in a warm climate) with the same joy for sharing as from where I had just come, many miles north. Being very young I had not yet spent that holiday in a different place, and the physical fact that it was celebrated here in a warm climate instead of a place that was cold was expanding for my young mind. I remember it like it was yesterday, and feel its essence still. 


Another remembered essence was one afternoon, working with my partner, Dan Carr in our print shop. I was working at the composing frame, correcting and justifying type for the book we were working on and Dan was in the casting area, casting type when I suddenly, distinctly felt the moment in time. It was, I believe, in the mid to late 90’s, and we had been doing letterpress for quite some years on a daily basis, five days a week for at least 8 to 9 hours per day. So we were perhaps producing along the order of what a professional metal letterpress print shop might have been doing in the 1930’s or 40’s when the technology was at its prime. (Our equipment is still that of a modern 1930’s-40 ’s shop with the exception of a few much older pieces.) I remember knowing that Dan and I were at the top of our game, that we could do the work with skill and precision, and in a fluid manner. There was a sudden realization, with the sun coming in the shop windows, that we were in that place, doing what we loved…what our hearts and intuition had guided us to, and we had embraced it fully, without reservation, despite all the pitfalls (like no health care, only one [used] car, and no paid vacations. That moment became felt in me as an encounter with the essence of my life and vocation…of the totality of my choices.

 

Extract Read more Julia Ferrari



OLD LADY BLOG


Two Pieces

Toni Ortner

  

For the 10 year old girl from Syria

  

The mirror stopped laughing when the bullets shattered the window.

Shards of glass flew through the startled air.

Familiar voices stopped when the wires were cut.


Description fled in dust.

It was the end of metaphor.

You huddled on the floor

in the dark arms of morning.


For Earl Thompson (Yakima Indian nation)

  

He tried to see red and blue horses galloping across a plain, but the horses would not come. His wife was crying by his side. He thought if he saw them he would live to see another day. It was a full moon night in April, and the willows were about to bud.  He tried to see red and blue horses, but something else appeared instead.


He was in a room without walls. A door opened into light. He stepped across the threshold into air.  He had lost his arms and legs and feet. He floated without wings. He turned around. In the distance was a woman weeping by an empty bed. <extract>


Read More Toni Ortner >>>



SCREENplay


Wildlife

Lawrence Klepp


Wildlife, the directorial debut of the actor Paul Dano, came and went quietly early this year, but it’s now available on streaming platforms, and it’s worth pursuing if you have a chance. In a year of outstanding female performers—Glenn Close, Olivia Colman, Viola Davis, Rachel Weisz, among others—the riveting work by Carey Mulligan in this film was largely overlooked. Based on a Richard Ford novel, the movie is set in a small town in Montana in 1960. The town, like many small Western towns, has a bleak, windswept, middle-of-nowhere ambience, but there’s a soaring mountain backdrop that is impressive in itself and lends the film a pathos of distance, a sense that life, or happiness, may be just over the horizon.


Mulligan and Jake Gyllenhaal play Jeanette and Jerry Brinson, a working-class couple in their mid-30s with a 14-year-old son, Joe (Ed Oxenbould). The family is barely making it financially but seems united and happy. But then Jerry gets fired from his job at a country club, having joined several members, at their invitation, for an off-hours game of golf and a drink afterward, thus violating club protocols. Jeanette, always smiling, always encouraging, is at first optimistic. She’s sure Jerry will quickly find another job. And, if necessary, she could work part-time, and they might move to a cheaper house, one even smaller and more nondescript than the one they’re renting.


<extract> Read More SCREENplay



WORLD & US ENERGY NEWS


Environment there and here

Special Environmental report by Phil Innes — Column George Harvey


In Iceland:

¶ Katrin Jakobsdottir, the 41-year-old chairwoman of the Left-Green Movement, has been elected Prime Minister of Iceland. One of the most well-liked politicians in Iceland, Katrín, a former education minister and avowed environmentalist, has pledged to set Iceland on the path to carbon neutrality by 2040. As Iceland’s fourth prime minister in only two years, Katrín will take office at a time when national politics have been tainted by public distrust and scandal. A democratic socialist, Katrín is viewed as a bridge-building leader that may lead the country towards positive, incremental change. “She is the party leader who can best unite voters from the left and right,” said Eva H. Onnudottir, a political scientist at the University of Iceland, according to the New York Times. “Because this coalition includes parties from the left to the right, their work will be more about managing the system instead of making ‘revolutionary’ changes.”


In an era when climate change is making it necessary for countries around the world to implement sustainable energy solutions, Iceland presents a unique situation. ... The story of Iceland's transition from fossil fuels may serve as an inspiration to other countries seeking to increase their share of renewable energy.


About 85% of all houses in Iceland are heated with geothermal energy. ... Renewable energy provided almost 100% of electricity production, with about 73% coming from hydropower and 27% from geothermal power.



In the USA:

¶ President Trump's first EPA Administrator, Scott Pruitt, resigned effective July 6, 2018, amid a series of scandals. Deputy Administrator Andrew Wheeler, a former coal industry lobbyist, started serving as acting administrator on July 9, 2018. Wheeler was confirmed as EPA Administrator on February 28, 2019.


The mission of EPA is to protect human health and the environment. EPA's purpose is to ensure that: ... the United States plays a leadership role in working with other nations to protect the global environment.


The EPA has 14,172 employees, and has a budget of $8,200,000,000.


<extract> Read More World & US Energy News





URBAN NATURALIST


A Loud and Colorful Advance Party Marks the End of Hogle Sanctuary's Winter Silence

Lloyd Graf


<extracts> Finally there are signs that the figurative bird repellent is beginning to wear off. Vultures appeared in Sanctuary and town skies in the 2'd week of March, and quickly became a welcome, if delayed roosting presence on both north and south ends. Robins migrating from southern climes recently joined the sparse but rugged group of over-wintering companions on the scene. For me, though, Hogle's silence ended definitively (and literally) on the morning of March 17, St Patrick's Sunday. I parked by the Sanctuary's Eaton Avenue entrance under partly sunny 9:30 AM skies and started down the trail toward the boardwalk and viewing area. As it developed I had to give up my descent at the top of the riser zone and survey the boardwalk, the massive old cement pump station, and some of the waters from on high. The most traveled part of the Eaton trail has recently been, and remained on that day a treacherous packed-down strip of ice. The remnant of once- navigable snow alongside the trail has also been largely iced over. The Eaton approach still remained tricky as recently as March 21 though the risk factor may by now have given way to the mere nuisance factor of mud season gunk.


Suddenly I was treated to an unmistakable and unexpected spring anthem: a series of loud, shrill, overtone-laden “kon-ka-reeeeee's “, the signature calls of Red-winged blackbirds, filtered down from the Eaton Ave neighborhood I was now returning to. As I emerged from the woods, I was greeted by visual confirmation. Some 12-15 blackbirds were artfully distributed on the barren branches of an Oak or Maple tree in a yard on the east side of Eaton Ave's north-south stretch. Back-lit by the eastern sun, the birds all appeared similarly dark, but occasional flashes of red epaulet combined with continuing vocalizations served to establish that I was viewing a small flock of Red-winged blackbirds.


This was exciting to me, in that Red-wings are among the most visually striking, and entertainingly aggressive of all spring harbinger species. The fact that they are also voraciously insectivorous is both encouraging (their efforts will be appreciated very soon, when mosquitoes and flies make their appearances) and perplexing, in that their favored prey insects were not yet obviously there for them as they huddled in the 31F chill. One assumes that the Red-wings must have known what they were up to, though they have not been sighted since that Sunday, neither by me nor by residents whom I buttonholed. Let's hope they're holed up in some life-sustaining local haven or have found well-stocked bird feeders.


Red-wings are great favorites of mine, in part because of their vivid looks (that is the males' epaulet-flashing sinister good looks; the females are tastefully brown-mottled with a subtle russety suggestion on the tips of back feathers) , remarkable vocalizations and consumption of nuisancy insects, and in part owing to the manic, shrill high-energy ferocity with which they defend their territories and nests against any and all intruders. An anecdote from Chicago days 3 decades ago serves to illustrate. Strolling through Lincoln Park, a prosperous, neighborhood often referred to as a “yuppie town”, and specifically through the Lincoln Park Zoo on a glorious warm spring morning, I came upon a knot of people, many resplendent in Sunday morning finery, gathered around a Tapir's outdoor stomping ground. It was quickly evident what had attracted these folk's attention: the Tapir, a large, sturdy, and as it developed, studly male, was experiencing the glandular surges of spring in a distinctively masculine way. One after another, would-be passers-by of various genders and ages joined the clutch of gawkers captivated by the beast's equine-scale endowment. So awe-struck were they, that they were unaware, at least initially, of the entry of another testosterone-fueled character onto the stage: a furious male Red-wing. Enraged by the proximity of the human gaggle to his and his mate's nest in a nearby tree, he first circled the group screeching avian expletives. Then as his ire escalated, he started dive-bombing people's heads, especially ladies' up-do hairstyles and Easter season hats. By the time the crowd dispersed, some members having left to avoid avian strafing runs, others as the tapir's rampancy gradually waned, the Red-wing had knocked a hat off one woman's head and disarranged a couple more.


Extract Read More Lloyd Graf



From The Archive


Evolution of democracy from economy to ecology

Editorial Essay


...Not too long ago these [energy] subjects were spoken of as ‘alternatives’, but in the chaotic energy scene of today they are currently only an alternative to chaos itself. One may scoff at specific proposed solutions, but the main problems can no longer be denied.


Elsewhere, Brattleboro as an influential hub to an extensive bio-region, a region without a name, is taking steps to implement a topic suggested by Wendell Berry in an essay he had published at Orion Press, Winter 2001. He titled the central essay The Idea of a Local Economy. This too, said Berry, is not an ‘alternative’ to anything but disempowerment. ‘Without prosperous local economies, the people have no power and the land no voice.’


Indeed, I remember William Irwin Thompson, founder of the Lindisfarne Foundation, New York City, saying much the same in 1982 — that the evolution of democracy will occur when we begin to shift from economy to ecology, thereby an intelligence of bio-regions provides the basis for action within the region, and Berry’s Local Economy is also the base of an enhanced local polity.


Certainly just being ‘aware’ of the difficulties in the world is altogether too passive and we might also consider a term coined by Buckminster Fuller in terms of the right way to harness our technology and economy; Imagineering.


<extract> From The Archive




SELECTED LETTERS


Not everyday a Vermont Views columnist has a book published. Here is Daybook 1 by Toni Ortner with reviews by Arlene Distler, Tim Mayo and Phil Innes


This would be Steinbeck if he hadn’t fooled around in other people’s kitchens. This is a full-score Cohen with two more notes, not reaching anywhere, but ever taking in. The words come humming out of the dark to shatter crystalline on the floor as sharp edged duo-tone fridge magnets familiar and mysterious as if designed by Paul Klee — not made in China or the Old Country, made in the Wild East of New York is more like it. There are hiding demons in the text waiting to pierce you, and there are non-resident angels flirting with sin.

—Phil Innes, Vermont Views Magazine


Read more of this and other letters to Vermont Views >>>




GALLERY ONE


A photographic essay on Devon and Cornwall

Anne Lenten, Ed.


A series of photographs about ‘another place’ collected by the remarkable photographer Anne Lenten — Notes by Phil Innes


#6 Mining conditions haven’t changed much in 100 years




See more photos in this article Gallery One >>>










GUEST ARTCLE


LETTERS FROM CUBA #15

Some sentences from Cuba

Mac Gander

It is dawn in La Habana and I am listening to Bob Marley’s “Rebel Music” as my wife Shanta sleeps in the next room and I mark the end of our third week here. One week to go. Travel is exhausting. There is no moment in which one does not wish to be awake.


I am thinking of the opening trope in Denis Johnson’s “Fiskadoro,” where he invokes Marley as one of the three great gods still left in the Florida Keys after a nuclear holocaust, a book that ends with a war-ship returning to those shores after a 90-year quarantine, from Cuba, a grey ship that is taller than the sky.





GUEST ARTICLE


LETTERS FROM CUBA #12

What lies beneath: Our stories our ghosts

Shanta Lee Gander

Who came first?  Europa or Europe?  With some research, I could get an answer, but the story of a girl who keeps dreaming about two continents fighting over her and who meets her fate and immortality with a God turned beautiful bull is an old one






SPECIAL FEATURE


A Dance with Hermes

Ken Masters

‘Into this hallowed room (I remember a gratifying visiting Professor of Logic, who, whilst debunking “Eastern Philosophy”, and cutting short his fourteen pages of definitions of “consciousness”, waved his arms in the air, inviting in the energy to energise the very expression of his de-bunking – which intangibility I can not possibly recognise, classify, or exonerate) came one Lindsay Clarke, propagating one irritatingly intangible “(A Dance With) Hermes”, full of vital “presence”, whom I hoped I had seen off aeons ago.






NOW, HERE, THIS!




Its not over ‘til

Vermont Views


hey, at least its not going to get below freezing


— that is down here in the valley in Brattleboro, though not on the hills and not up North. Looks like Brattleboro is snow-free through Wednesday!





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