I’ve been reading Ross Gay for many weeks now. First The Book of Delights and now The Book of (More) Delights. One delight each morning starts my day off right. In the early essays of More Delights, Ross is finding delight in Vermont. (I imagine that he was writing these essays down at Middlebury College or some such. It was an extended sojourn.)
It’s interesting to read an outsider’s viewpoint of Vermonters. One that isn’t derisive anyway. For one thing, I realized that I am not an outsider any longer. Because he’s describing me. But then New Mexico and Vermont are surprisingly similar. So maybe I never was an outsider.
But the next thing I realized is that I take the kindness here for granted. Ross talks about finding a pile of walking sticks left at a trailhead, where people will need walking sticks. Or the self-serve farm stands that trust you to leave money in the till, which is often just a box, a box that could easily be removed, and yet it never is. And people do pay. I’ve sold things that way. Ross also finds delight in the wide berth drivers will give to pedestrians. Even cyclists will veer far around people on foot. And then Vermonters all smile and wave, like the people we are passing are dear friends. I do that too. And I’ve had cars drive almost in the opposite lane to make me feel comfortable when I am on foot on the side of the road.
I know that this last is an unusual delight because in Massachusetts the assholes in smelly black trucks would not only stay the course, but often they would gun their engines to speed up as they passed. Some even swerved closer to me. On a country road that had no berm, never mind sidewalks. Nobody waved. I’m not sure they knew how to smile.
But in Vermont these delights are just what everybody does, without thinking about it. Now, Ross also points out that we will sometimes read you the riot act for wearing the wrong shoes and carrying no water or a reliable map when on a hike in the mountains… But in other places strangers don’t care enough about each other to step in when they see dangerous stupidity about to go wrong. Vermonters care. And they will keep you from hurting yourself in your ignorance. Isn’t it somewhat pathetic that this is a remarkable thing…
The rarity of care does explain the nervously baffled looks from tourists. However, when my parents were here, well… they fit right in (another bit of evidence that I’ve always been a Vermonter). They treat everyone as a long lost cousin. My mom can get the life history out of telemarketers. My dad will walk up to unsuspecting folks and launch into the wonders of whatever is tickling his fancy that day. In the rest of the world, the discomfort of his “victims” is palpable. Here in Vermont… I think he was exchanging email addresses. This is how easy it is to be friendly in this state. And this ease is what delights Ross.
Through his delights, I’ve come to see that the care we show each other in Vermont is a rare treasure. And here I’ve been taking it as my due as a human, hardly even noticing the signs. I put my cash into the farm stand box without even thinking about the trust that we are showing each other. I walk along the roadside without a spike in blood pressure whenever I hear a car approaching. In fact, I don’t even find it odd that the driver might stop to chat as happens regularly on my lunchtime walk. In most of the world, being hailed by a complete stranger in an automobile is terrifying. Whole horror novels are written on such things. In Vermont, it’s just good manners. Or maybe it’s just showing care. Which is much the same thing.
I don’t know when I became a Vermonter. Maybe as soon as I moved here. Without even noticing, I dropped the walls that I’d erected to survive in Massachusetts and went back to being a normal caring human. But it’s not normal, is it. I’ve just been unusually blessed to live in two of the last places where care is still a way of life, it is the air we breathe. And Ross has shown me this blessing.
This delight of his brings me delight, but it also makes me a bit sad. These are such small things, but they mean the world. They make the world. They make our lives. And they make our paths through life smoother and more comfortable. They make us happy. Why can’t everyone have that? Why shouldn’t everyone! It makes me sad to know that most people don’t get to take care for granted.
But it is easy. All you have to do is smile and wave. Make people feel safe. Leave a walking stick at the trailhead for the next person who comes along. Trust that they will pay it forward. Always trust. And know that trust will be repaid.
And wouldn’t it be delightful if one day soon we find none of this to be particularly remarkable!
©Elizabeth Anker 2024
By My Solitary Hearth 
I love Ross Gay! He himself is a delight 🙂
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