Voices

Living the slow life

A newcomer to southern Vermont adjusts to a new pace and to a world where time is relative

BRATTLEBORO — I chose to move to Brattleboro because of its location in Vermont, its relative nearness to Boston, its four-season climate (five, including mud), and the diversity of its people and culture. Having coffee in the morning on my sunrise-facing deck gives me a daily affirmation of my choice.

When I first arrived, I read a lot in the local papers about living slow. At first glance, compared to my previous life in urban centers around the world, I thought that this might be a redundant allegation.

I learned quickly that I might need to reframe my thinking on this topic.

Living slow has turned out to have a multitude of meanings and implications for my acculturation, acclimatization, and assimilation to my newly adopted lifestyle and location.

* * *

As with any newcomer, I had a lot to learn about where to go, what to do, and who knows what.

At first, I thought I might need a security system for my house, as I am somewhat distant from town and from my nearest neighbors.

I talked to several neighbors who have lived in town much longer than I have. They listened carefully to my concerns, smiled politely, and then gently responded to my naïve concern by suggesting that I give a set of my keys and my mobile number to Carol, who lives in the corner house near the entrance to our neighborhood. I was told she notices everything.

They also told me that by the time the police respond to a security call, the burglars would most likely be long gone. The fire station is closer, but everyone would notice a fire anyway.

Problem solved?

I then needed to establish a mailbox at the local satellite post office, as my neighbors noted that delivery in our area was not to my front door. I introduced myself to the local postal clerk, who assigned me a box and a key - a key that I almost never use, as she intercepts me almost every time I check in and hands me my mail without asking my box number.

I am quite sure she knows more about me than I am comfortable with, but I try not to think about that.

* * *

It wasn't too long before I noticed things that needed repair, some within my capability and some well beyond.

For the minor things, a trip to the local hardware store has become a regular adventure and educational experience. There is no problem too small that the hardware guy doesn't have a theory about.

Often, when I thought I would be in and out quickly, I got in, but had a harder time getting out. I am obviously in need of a lecture on the history and options available to me to solve even the most mundane problem. I sometimes think of this guy as my hardware therapist. My wife knows now that a trip to the hardware store could take anywhere from 10 minutes to two hours.

The challenge of locating reliable craftspeople to handle what could be really considered a household crisis soon became an additional problem.

The first crisis was a plumbing issue that couldn't wait. Of course, it occurred after normal working hours. “Normal working hours” in Brattleboro is a topic worthy of a wholly separate discourse.

I finally located a service that would come out to take a look, but the answering service advised me “only if I was a regular customer.”

My reply was that I was willing to consider that as an option if the plumber could arrive within the hour. This was not the “yes” or “no” she expected, so after a somewhat lengthy delay for deliberation and consultation, she finally concluded that was an acceptable response.

After this experience, I have begun to compile a list of reliable workers for almost any contingency. Explanations of reliability from my neighbors usually include handy tidbits such as, “Make sure you talk to his mother; otherwise, he might not respond.”

I asked how old this fellow was, thinking that I didn't want to be breaking child labor laws in my first year here.

“Oh, he's about 30. He does good work, but his mother keeps him organized.”

Later, I was to find out firsthand the truth of that statement. I have just met the brush hogger guy who doesn't answer his phone but will respond to text messages with a phone call when you least expect it.

* * *

I am also learning that there are multiple local definitions of “on time,” “tomorrow,” and “sometime today.” Who knew?

I won't even go into the meaning of “as soon as possible,” which I have come to theorize means “when I get around to it.” That could mean tomorrow, next week, or possibly next season.

So what exactly does “living slow” mean? I don't think I am ready to come up with an adequate definition just yet, but it is definitely a work in progress.

I'll get back to you on that.

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