Letter from a Flatlander
I came to Vermont because of family. I stayed because this state is more like home than the state where I was born. With some exceptions, like pronouncing words like “water, or “coffee,” you would never know I am not a 5th generation Vermonter but what native Vermonters call a “Flatlander.” This is not exactly a compliment but it's not an insult either. It does mean you will never, no matter how hard you try, be a “real Vermonter.” But I get to live here, so I am fine with the arrangement.
I landed at my current address in a lovely town by all luck and no brains but experience has taught me the best way to get to know a new place is to get it under my feet. My dog led the way, disapproving of every other dog in the vicinity but permitted my spontaneous conversations with our new neighbors.
I love it here. People say, “Hello,” a respectful courtesy that has “turned up missing” in my home state. While negotiating the supermarket aisles, people say: “Excuse me,” or “Sorry,” for accidentally cutting in front of you while reaching for a box on the top shelf. They hold a door open to allow you to go through it first. And get this: When you are a pedestrian and want to cross the street, THE CARS STOP and wait until you cross to the other side! I mean, it’s like you’re Moses parting the Red Sea, the path to the other side just opens up!
Early in my days here, I was perplexed by a behavior I had never seen in my home state. Whenever I went out for a walk down the street, drivers would hold up a hand when they passed me. It happened every day. Were they sending me a message? Did I have spinach stuck in my teeth? Was I on the correct side of the road while letting my dog snuffle through the grass? What is it with this signal that everyone is doing it?
It took a few walks over a couple of days but I figured it out. “Diane,” said that little voice that speaks to me during times like this: “These people are WAVING at you. They are saying “HELLO, I see you.”
Oh!
With that extraordinary new insight, I tried waving back, a little raise of my hand to test the waters of Vermont courtesy. It was awesome; my timid motions got a response every time! I raised my hand higher to be sure the driver would know I was sincere, but over time, noticed my growing enthusiasm might be the reason they were slowing down and staring.
“Use the Vermont wave,” a Flatlander neighbor advised. “Watch the truck drivers, you just lift your fingers up with your hands still on the steering wheel. You’re not a cheerleader, you’re just saying, ‘HI!’”
I practiced. I think I have it down now, and have never lost my fascination or my zeal to wave to passersby to say, “Hello, I see you too.”
Comments