No Vermonters in Heaven

Driving south on 89 out of Quebec you can see Vermont’s mountains in the distance, rich blue above the brown of Quebec’s farmland. Intellectually one would expect the two to be more similar geographically- two pages of the same book, divided only by an imaginary line on a man-made map (and a very real line of cars at the border). In reality, there is something that you feel in your lungs as you cross that line, as the signs change languages and trees spring up on both sides of the road. The air is thicker, soupy with oxygen and the richness of the woods.

I am driving down to Vermont Vaudeville, a small show in Hardwick made by two good friends, Brent and Maya McCoy (and two newer friends- Justin Lander and Rose Friedman, also core members of VV), who work very hard to bring all new, original, relevant and hilarious material to their town’s residents at least twice a year. It’s a labor of love. Having performed in it myself I have seen firsthand the energy and passion that goes into making this show- the organization, advertising, writing original and witty material that is relevant to both local and larger issues, bringing in quality acts, local food vendors, running the lights and music during the show, feeding the artists, housing the artists, driving the artists around, greeting people pre-show and then cleaning the townhouse post-show. Why go to all this trouble?

I think the answer is reflective of a truth about communities such as this- passionate people put in a lot of work to develop something they love, something that is important to them and that positively influences the community they chose to live in. Vermont Vaudeville brings people together to entertain but also to share and to encourage joy- of pursuing passions, of knowing your neighbors, of supporting local businesses. It is a celebration of the innumerable and sometimes intangible benefits of a strong community, a community that strengthens itself through efforts like this.

Plus, it’s a killer show.

I spend the weekend laughing with family, friends, friends to be; recharging batteries I sometimes forget need charging in the chaos and routine of my normal life. The show itself is exceptional as a reason in and of itself to come, and also a great excuse to visit my own family and friends- to go to dinner before the show and hear stories about sailing from my Dad, and to stay up late afterwards trading tales around the kitchen table with Brent and Maya, with Snap Boogie the popper-locker and Hilby the Skinny German Juggle Boy. Part of the magic of this show is sharing it.

Keep an eye out for more from them at their website- www.vermontvaudeville.com

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(Earlier)
Driving up the dirt hill that leads to their house I am giddy and happy, sunshine drunk. My arm hangs out the window, the light is warm and the breeze smells like pine trees. A place like this gets into your bones, resonates deep inside of you. A place where coming to visit feels like coming home. The paint on the houses in this area is peeling and faded, wind worn and scratched like tree bark. People’s faces are rich and often furry, full of years of sunshine and weather, line etchings of hard winters and soft breezes, of a life spent outdoors surrounded by beauty. You can hear the birds chirp overhead and the rocks rumble under the tires, brooks gurgle on the side of the road and leaves rustle quiet songs amongst the trees.

I love these damn roads.

What a beautiful state to live in.

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A note about the title of today’s post: At a farmers’ market in Burlington I was intrigued by a poem in front of a lemonade stand of the same title: “No Vermonters in Heaven.” You can read the whole thing here, the gist of it is that a lot of Vermonters give heaven a try, but the green mountains are just too beautiful and they end up going back. I can relate.

Excerpt below: