Tis better to shop Main Street: A holiday pitch for our local creative economy

In our current economic spiral and with the holidays upon us, it is human nature to gravitate toward the discounts, clearance sales and brand name bargains that populate the papers, airwaves and ether. Hip ads on TV, pithy jingles on the radio, coupons in the dailies and pulsating banner ads online all beckon us to save, save, save yet spend, spend, spend.

With the recent focus on big business blunders and Wall Street woes, however, I’ve begun to question just where our gelt is going and who, specifically, it supports. While I understand that the economy suffers when consumers stop consuming, I look around my own community and consider the plight of struggling sole proprietorships long before worrying about the big boys. I look at the painters, potters, poets, novelists, musicians, photographers, woodworkers, jewelers and other artisans who make a high-quality original works of art but who do not have massive marketing budgets to help sell their wares. I think of farmers who choose to keep their enterprises small and organic in support of the localvore philosophy.

I also marvel at the tenacity and spirit of these folks who could easily abandon their chilly studios for well-heated mega-stores, give up their understaffed shops and go work for a brand name competitor or trade their agricultural ideals for more lucrative crop management. That they choose to stay the course in the face of encroaching corporations is beyond commendable — it’s why we live here and why a day of supporting the economy in our historic downtowns is remarkably pleasant, pragmatic and community-building, if not soul-nourishing.

Still, I’m no saint. About once a year I give in to time and budgetary constraints and stock up on various staples in mass quantities at mega-retailers, all the while tsk-tsking my momentary failure to support small retailers the way I usually do. By the time I’ve made my purchase, whether it’s through an online purveyor of every houseware known to man or in a vast indoor city of avenues lined with oversized cleaning products gleaming beneath a fluorescent sky, I feel just a little bit unclean.

Commercial Goliaths are everywhere you look and, when it comes to warm and fuzzy packaging, it’s hard not to be intoxicated by the marketing machine and buy in, literally and figuratively, to well-crafted ad campaigns. The sorry truth of it is that, between economizing and our easily seduced psyches, at this time of year it’s hard not to get in the car or open a browser and head straight for the most obvious options.

Heck, every year I equip my kids for Vermont winters with “Made in Vietnam” outerwear, ordered from catalogue companies that have brilliantly managed to transform the cultural symbology of a down-home, homespun, rural lifestyle into multibillion dollar industries.

“Experience marketing,” as it’s known in the advertising world, has been part of the retail industry for a couple of decades now and it’s awfully hard to be impervious to its multisensorial charms. Coffee chains surround the customer with carefully chosen aesthetics, music and smells while clothing stores are furnished with enticing leather chairs, exotic plants and chic travel photography. It’s all beautifully staged and makes shopping slightly less tedious, I suppose, but the faux-congeniality that usually goes with the retail chain experience is what kills it for me.

Downtowns in New England offer something that no perfectly appointed brand boutique or bulk bargain mother ship can: a true feeling of participation, belonging and connection. When I head to Bellows Falls to do my errands — choose a bouquet at Halladay’s Florist, buy a new novel at Village Square Booksellers, stock up on light bulbs at J & H Hardware or pick up a CD at Bull’s Eye Music — merchants know me, they know my kids and they impart a feeling of comfort and familiarity that no amount of ersatz-atmosphere or über-selection can replace.

Sure, I could go to the nearby multinational warehouse store to pick up some pens and have a hundred choices but when I go to Snow & Lear office supply on the square, the value is more than just the pens. There’s Nancy, the ever-cheery clerk who will order anything I need and usually knows what it is before I do, most of the time the price is better than the competition and there’s parking right out front. Nothing can compete with that, nor the cute cartoons she clips and tapes to the counter or the paper clock hanging in the door that shows when she’ll be back from lunch.

Talk about experience marketing. This region has it oozing from every warmly lit storefront, jumbled window display and wry proprietor’s grin and it ain’t manufactured and it isn’t the result of millions of dollars of demographic research by suits in big offices. It’s just embedded in the character of the people who make our small towns and villages so unique.

At this time of year my gratitude for local merchants is especially great, whether it’s toy stores or galleries, bath shops or bakeries, and as I look at my list of holiday gifts to buy, I map out routes through nearby vintage downtowns, knowing that I’ll not only very likely find everything I need but I’ll be supporting the region as well.

My favorite thing to get for loved ones is, of course, art and Vermont is a goldmine of one-of-a-kind gifts that were made by hand by people who live and work in our communities. There are purveyors of locally made original items throughout the state, some focusing solely on Vermont artists, while others offer work by craftspeople from around New England.

One of my regular stops is Vermont Artisan Designs, in Brattleboro, where more than 6,000 square feet of space showcases paintings, glassware, jewelry, bowls, furniture and other assorted gifts, 75 percent of which are made in Vermont, with most of the remaining items from the surrounding region. Having opened 40 years ago, the store is testament to the vision and diligence of people like Suzy and Greg Worden, who have owned it for the past two decades and who are committed to supporting the work of high-caliber artists with the store, the fine art gallery upstairs and their online business, Buyvermontart.com.

Greg Worden reckons that, with prices starting at $5 and going into the thousands, it’s a great place for all holiday shoppers wanting to support their local craftspeople. “What we’re trying to do is maintain quality for the same price-point,” he explained recently, “so when you get something from here and see the paper it’s wrapped in, it’s something that everybody can feel good about.”

This type of one-stop shopping from an expansive collection of original works in a broad range of media also satisfies that urban/suburban experience that’s somewhat rare in rural areas. “It used to be a department store,” Worden attests, “so we’ve reclaimed that, in a way.”

There are numerous retail stores in the area offering a similarly pragmatic approach to supporting the creative economy, including Maplewing Artisans in Bellows Falls, the Jelly Bean Tree in Saxtons River, Frog Hollow Craft Center and the Artists Guild in Manchester, Gallery 103 in Chester and the Bennington Arts Guild, to name just a few. And don’t forget Vermont-grown, homemade foodstuffs that can’t be found anywhere else.

Give neighborhood arts and crafts merchants a look this year and ye shall come to holiday parties bearing beautiful gifts that will be loved by the receiver while simultaneously injecting much-needed fuel into our local creative economy. Be assured, too, that original art does not have to be expensive, as Worden will attest.

“Pewter pocket angels are the size of a quarter and they start at $5. You can even carry a pocket Buddha with you.”

Ah, the gift of serenity in the season of shopping. I’ll put that at the top of my list.

Annie: annieguyoncommunications.com

Giving voice to what we believe: NPR producer explores universal notion

On the first day of fifth grade, circa 1972, my classmates and I were instructed to write a one-page essay on what we believed in — no mean feat for a 10-year-old who spent most of the time fretting that her nose was too elfin or with said protuberance buried in Enid Blyton books or Betty and Veronica comics.

Looking back on where my priorities lay at that age, my essay was probably a rambling jumble of unfinished thoughts about how I believed that kids should not leave homework until the last minute, that older sisters should not bully younger sisters and that rice pudding was really gross. In other words, it was likely a whingy roster of average pre-adolescent obsessions about foibles, siblings and general daily trials such as unappetizing dishes at dinnertime.

Lucky for me, that myopia was soon ripped open by a trio of groovy, newbie teachers who, in the "combined classroom" setting popular in those days, did their darndest to get about 60 kids to reconsider their world from new and, to use the lexicon of the day, radical angles.

There was Mr. Berry, who addressed us as if we, too, were 30-ish political activists who cared deeply about things like the Vietnam war, littering and Jungian psychology; Mr. Lindbergh who, with dulcet tones and gentle manner, ended each day reading aloud to us from books such as "Where the Red Fern Grows" or "Travels With Charley;" and Ms. Ayling who taught us about Bella Abzug, the women's' rights movement and how the birth control pill heralded a social revolution.

And yet it wasn't only school that kept me steeped in thought-provoking ideas and sensibilities. With working-class parents who recalled the terror of buzz bombs during WWII, an atheist grandmother who regularly disparaged Nixon, my older sister canvassing for the McGovern-Shriver campaign after school every day and perpetual familial fears that my brother might be drafted, I already had some fairly strong opinions about the world. It was just that no one had ever asked for them.

Plenty of folks go through life keeping their beliefs largely to themselves, for one reason or another, although given the right opportunity even the quietest voices can rise and be heard.

"This I Believe: The Personal Philosophies of Remarkable Men and Women," a collection of 80 absorbing essays based on the NPR show of the same name, gives voice to private citizens and public figures. Based on eminent journalist Edward R. Murrow's venerated 1950s-era "This I Believe" radio show, the book contains views from present day luminaries such as Gloria Steinem, Colin Powell and Eve Ensler, as well as those who were in Murrow's original broadcasts, including Helen Keller, Albert Einstein and Oscar Hammerstein.

Some are simple and moving, others complex and bold, but all are fearless, forthright and timeless.

A few entries paint social observations with a broad philosophical brush, such as Mr. Hammerstein, who declared: "I am a man who believes he is happy. What makes it unusual is that a man who is happy seldom tells anyone. The unhappy man is more communicative. He is eager to recite what is wrong with the world, and he seems to have a talent for gathering a large audience. It is a modern tragedy that despair has so many spokesmen, and hope so few."

Likewise, the words of Sir Muhammad Zafrulla Khan, who was the Minister of Foreign Affairs of Pakistan, brim with an egalitarian celebration of humanity: "I believe in the brotherhood and equality of man. I recognize no division or privilege based on race, color, family or wealth. The only badge of honor and nobility that I recognize is the purity and righteousness of a man's life."

At 7 p.m. Saturday, Jay Allison, who co-edited the book and co-produces the radio show with fellow NPR reporter Dan Gediman, will speak at Northshire Books along with Casey Murrow, the son of Edward R. Murrow.

With the immense popularity of the radio shows and the book, the breadth of their contributors and the journalistic brilliance of the founder himself, "This I Believe" is an ever-pertinent source of insight and connection in which a core impulse of human nature is eloquently and mightily manifest.

Edward R. Murrow once said, "The newest computer can merely compound, at speed, the oldest problem in the relations between human beings, and in the end the communicator will be confronted with the old problem, of what to say and how to say it."

Respectfully expanding upon Mr. Murrow's discerning observation, Allison and Gediman also created "This I Believe," the Web site and nonprofit organization, "to promote the free and respectful exchange of ideas." Giving anyone and everyone an opportunity to express his or her personal philosophies via an online database of personal essays from around the globe, the site invites regular folks like you and me to tell the world what we believe.

A remarkably intimate peek into the achievements, hardships, regrets and revelations of people from more than 70 countries, the site is an expansive example of the computer at its best, making the world seem smaller by sewing the experience of humanity together across the ether.

"This I Believe" asks all of us to look within and express our innermost credos, though it's not the first such publication to do so. Way back in 1941, a book called "Vermont Is Where You Find It" by Keith Warren Jennison asked the same thing, in so many words. Pairing stark portraits of Vermonters with wry questions and observations, one page asks "What do you know today … for sure?"

Go to the "This I Believe" Web site and you'll see just what 241 fellow Vermonters know for sure. They believe in a great many things, including the power of goodness, of laughter and of working together. They believe that everyday life is filled with profound moments, that creatures should not suffer because of human greed and that toddlers can be our teachers. They believe in the right to dignity, in giving oneself the gift of time and in hope. One woman even believes in soil and expounds upon her conviction as passionately and powerfully as her online kin.

The sum of these varied versions of "This I Believe" — the book, the old and new radio show and now this visionary database of personal principles — is a wealth of wisdom and compassion that serves to edify, inspire and galvanize us all.

It is particularly striking to note how many of the essays from the original show are germane to our present-day socio-political climate. Pearl S. Buck, who recorded her thoughts for Murrow's show in 1951, seems to have presaged the current state of international affairs.

"I believe that the normal human heart is born good. That is, it's born sensitive and feeling, eager to be approved and to approve, hungry for simple happiness and the chance to live. It neither wishes to be killed, nor to kill. If through circumstances, it is overcome by evil, it never becomes entirely evil. There remain in it elements of good, however recessive, which continue to hold the possibility of restoration."

One of the "This I Believe" online entries, from a man in Vermont, decisively synopsizes Murrow, Allison and Gediman's collective motivation: He believes there is a person inside all of us who needs to be heard.

Say what you have to say on the "This I Believe" Web site and head to Northshire Books for what is sure to be an enthralling evening built around one of the airwaves' most consistently meaningful shows.

Online: www.thisibelieve.org

www.northshire.com

Wizards, mysteries and big words: Reading and related events inspire kids all summer

With summer half over and many families returning from vacations with kids who promptly display post-camping-beach-road trip-Disneyland-Europe boredom, the next six-week stretch of no school can look awfully ominous to parents like me who don't usually enroll our kids in camps and classes.

Even if we haven't left home at all, filling the days with stimulating activities can be a challenge, particularly if a flock of fun visitors has recently departed.

Last week, our friends and family from England and California headed back home and the daytrips we'd been making around the region began to be replaced by regular pastimes like walking to the market for Popsicles or playing chess on the porch. Fortunately, my kids' default diversion is portable and helps to keep mid-summer monotony at bay.

In the car en route to potlucks, kayaking excursions, baseball games and swimming holes, and in between barbecues, skateboarding and hide-and-seek at home, they're more often than not found immersed in books.

Both have, in fact, been rereading all the Harry Potter books in preparation for next week's release of the final tome in the series, so I thought I'd check into local celebrations of the highly-anticipated event.

Thus far, I've found no less than five locations in southern Vermont where families can gather for a bewitching few hours leading up to the moment when the book will go on sale at midnight July 20.

Northshire Books in Manchester, the Book Cellar in Brattleboro and the Boys & Girls Club, the Rockingham Public Library and Village Square Booksellers in Bellows Falls are all rolling out the J.K. Rowling carpet, with everything from costume contests and dastardly divinations to Hogwarts d'oeurves and Horcrux scavenger hunts. Northshire Books goes all out, with herbology lessons by Professor Sprout, a Quidditch broomstick for photo-ops and Dumbledore's Army followed by a swarm of Dementors descending the staircase to herald the distribution of the books when the clock strikes 12.

Upon further investigation, I also came across a great many ongoing children's programs and special events at libraries and bookshops that offer author readings, morning story times for youngsters and interactive afternoon programs for older kids. Rockingham Public Library is an exceptional year-round resource for young people, with weekly meetings of its Detective Club for kids 8 and up, and AnimeNiacs and Dungeons & Dragons for over-13s.

Libraries, in general, are always a great place to bring the kids during the summer, as are local indie bookstores.

Whether it's 100 degrees or pouring outside, or when playing badminton has lost the luster it had in early June, getting lost in the land of delightfully implausible plotlines inhabited by brilliant, charming kids, unlikely heroes and deliciously repugnant villains is a splendid way to wile away the hours.

Though I like to think my kids got the reading bug because I starting reciting things like "Big Red Barn," "Goodnight Moon" and "Pokey Little Puppy" to them a bazillion times a day when they were about a week old, I also know that it is in large part because of the vibrant libraries they frequent, as well as a terrific reading program at their school.

The Reading Challenge, conceived several years ago by a parent and facilitated by hard-working members of the PTO, is a truly inspired incentive program whose periodic presentations of calligraphic certificates and cool tchotchkes help propel kids along the way to becoming avid readers as they pursue the 50,000-page goal.

Though I'm one of those moms who cringes at the obsession that has so many parents rewarding little Johnny each time he blows his nose or insisting that every pee-wee player gets a trophy — whatever happened to healthy, Darwinian competition? — I must say that, within the realm of academia, when kids are moved to read simply by visions of small prizes dancing in their heads, well, it's all good. The joy on my son's face when the principal presented him with a plaque upon completion of the Reading Challenge last year was worth every minute of title-jotting and page-tallying.

Nevertheless, it's not all down to handsome diplomas and Day-Glo pencils. As a journalist, I was curious about the reading bug in and of itself and why it bites some kids so very deeply, so the other day I grabbed my tape recorder and arranged to interview two eminent local experts on the topic: the ones I often find draped over each end of my couch, which for weeks now has been strewn with dog-eared paperbacks emblazoned with the words "Harry Potter and the 'Something Something.'"

When I asked my 8-year old daughter, Ellie, what she likes about reading, an earnest look came over her face and she explained thusly: "I like to read because it's interesting, happy, sad, scary, mysterious and adventurous and I learn lots of big words like 'independence,' 'absurd,' 'indignant' and …'pondered.'"

Her brother, Timmy, couldn't wait for his interview to start and blurted excitedly, "Yeah and you never know what's going to happen so sometimes you're thunderstruck with sadness or amazement or any kind of emotion, like in "Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince," I was really dumbstruck when Dumbledore died, but with Eragon I pretty much knew that Eragon and Saphira were going to get to the Varden safely!" Well, all righty then.

Experts say a child's love of reading, like all habits good or bad, begins at home. Having been raised by a woman whose vocabulary was positively Oxfordian, I might be a tad heavy-handed in pushing this particular pursuit, not to mention the Queen's English, upon my kids. Still, they seemed enrapt when I recently regaled them with Conan Doyle's "Stories For Boys," a 1938 gem full of expressions that now — much to my amusement — pepper their own lexicon. The other day during a game of Uno, Timmy exulted, "Hey, when I guessed the card before I picked it, it 'suited the action to the word,' just like when Sherlock Holmes said one of the white pills would kill the dog and it did!"

Not that it's all formal and flowery at our house; there are plenty of "cools," "awesomes" and "yos" in the midst of any verdant vocabulary. That being said, the vernacular at Hogwarts has done much to elevate the caliber of speech in young adult literature on the whole and, for that, plenty of parents — and, I'm guessing, a lot of teachers, too — are thankful.

If you're after a multimedia über-HP experience on the 20th, head to Bellows Falls where the new Harry Potter film plays at the Bellows Falls Opera House prior to the three nearby book release celebrations. Please note that all aforementioned HP events are free except at Village Square Booksellers, which requires prepaid book orders for those wishing to attend.

Also, for little ones who won't make it to midnight, local artist Donald Saaf will be at VSB from 4 to 6 p.m. that afternoon to read aloud and sing a few songs in celebration of "Skinny Brown Dog," the most recent of more than 12 wondrously whimsical books that he has illustrated with his richly hued, beautifully rendered paintings.

Check out local libraries and bookstores and you'll find a steady stream of entertaining events for young folks through September — enough to make that kayak look mighty tantalizing again, right about Labor Day.

www.northshire.com

www.bookcellarvt.com

www.villagesquarebooks.com

www.youseemore.com/rockingham

Break out the bubbly: First Anniversary of Sover Scene

According to tradition, the proper first-anniversary gift is paper, which is apt, as today heralds (pun unavoidable) a full year of reporting all the Southern Vermont arts that'll fit into 30 or so weekly columnar inches of this fine paper.

Before I started the Sover Scene, I knew Vermont had a thriving cultural infrastructure, with its numerous galleries, museums, bookshops, theaters, concert venues and festivals. Still, I assumed I'd need to do at least a tiny bit of digging each week in order to find truly exceptional events upon which to expound.

The delicious reality, however, is that I'm more often than not hard-pressed to decide what not to write about. Sounds like an ill-conceived BBC series, but, honestly, come Friday each week I already have a vat of ideas for next week's column percolating in my head and not because of any shrewd investigative effort on my part. Outstanding visual, literary, musical and theatrical art happenings are simply ubiquitous around here, like moss on boulders and weathervanes on barns.

And since I'm one of those people who'd rather go deep into one topic than skim the surface of many, the end of each week usually has my brow furled as I attempt to settle on one theme. Hmmm … the lecture on Steinbeck in East Dover or the Tibetan documentary screening in Saxtons River? The exhibit in Jamaica of photos from Kyoto or the Nigerian dance performance in Bellows Falls? The Winslow Homer sketches in Bennington or the Britpop band in Brattleboro?

Without question, Southern Vermont is a voluminous feast for us culture vultures and, unless every Vermont resident who loves or creates art is suddenly abducted by aliens, I will never run out of ideas.

It's a terribly nice problem to have, though sometimes it really is a tough call. Case in point, there are two compelling events taking place on June 7, both of which I'd love to cover in depth next week but, alas, I must resist. My editors already have a hard enough time reigning in my verbosity on one topic without having to crack the whip on two.

For lack of a better term, the "first runner-up" is a talk on Gertrude Stein during which Barbara Will, associate professor of English at Dartmouth, will be discussing the Mother of Modernism's illustrious Left Bank salon, which included 20th-century heavyweights such as Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Manet, Picasso and Cezanne.

Anyone who's read more than a couple of these columns can attest that I could easily write thousands of words on this kind of event. Not only does my academic background in art history make me giddy at the thought of all those Titans of the painting world milling around the Stein-Toklas' Parisian parlor, but such a pivotal time in literary history is like a smorgasbord to those of us with stalagmites of books cluttering our floors. So, despite my urge to spotlight this absorbing event as well — 7 p.m., June 7, Brooks Memorial Library in Brattleboro — I just can't.

The topic that elbowed out Gertrude and her posse is a worthy opponent, as you'll see in the first of Sover Scene's second year, next week!

And to think that when I moved here six years ago, some of the friends I was leaving behind in San Francisco were concerned that I'd have constant culture cravings and that my intellectual life would be drastically narrowed to things like maple candy competitions and lectures on the art of sheep shearing.

Well, for one thing, I love maple candy and very much appreciate that all things aggie embody a crucial slice of Vermont's incredibly rich cultural history. But the truth of the matter is — and this is what got this flatlander here in the first place — Vermont has more artistic mojo per capita than most places on the planet and writing this column reaffirms that, every week.

As a matter of fact, it was art that got me here. In early 2000, my former husband and I were considering moving to New England from the Bay Area and had just come back from a reconnaissance road trip around Maine, where I'd spent a lot of time as a kid with relatives. A few friends and acquaintances that heard about our trip made a point of advising us to check out Vermont before we made any decision, attesting that it's an incomparable place with a rare appreciation for creativity and independent thought.

Like every self-respecting business-owner and mother considering moving with her family across the country, I Googled the words crucial to any well-researched, prudent relocation venture: "art," "literature" and "Vermont." The first listing was RAMP, the Rockingham Arts and Museum Project in Bellows Falls. I think my husband must have thought I'd spiked my tea because I came squealing out of our office as if I'd found Nirvana — not the band, we already had that CD.

I was thrilled to have discovered such a thriving arts organization in the middle of New England and guessed, correctly, that it was a testament to the vibrancy and pluck of the community in general. A year later, we'd bought a house just outside Bellows Falls and knew it was the best move we ever made, particularly for our children. I'm quite sure they're exposed to far more kultchah here than they would have been in San Francisco because most art events and venues there are prohibitive and, almost more to the point, there's never any bloody parking, which dissuades even the most committed of us "museum-moms" from teaching little Johnny about things like post-modernism or the Fauvists.

By now RAMP's founder, Robert McBride, has heard my moving — in every sense of the word — tale so many times he can recite it verbatim, but if it weren't for Robert and the Internet — thank you, Al Gore — I wouldn't have found this extraordinary corner of the world, much less this outstanding publication.

The experience of learning more and more about the bustling southern Vermont art world by writing the Sover Scene each week has been extraordinarily positive, as has the response. E-mails from readers who connect with something they see herein or who offer informative tidbits about favorite topics are frosting on an already delectable cake.

Add to it that the editors with whom I work are as astute, congenial, respectful and intrepid as any I have ever encountered in my two decades of writing, and this first year of working with a family-owned, conglomerate-eschewing paper of such admirable integrity has been a true joy.

As the cards say, here's to many more!

Contact Annie Guyon at [email protected].

VT's dark past reads like a book: Young adult lit that rocks everyone's world

What do the "Adventures of Tom Sawyer," the "Diaries of Anne Frank," "Oliver Twist" and the readership-record-shattering "Harry Potter" series have in common besides central characters who are younger than 18?

They're all books with cross-generational appeal, spawning a love of literature in kids and bringing grownups into the complex, colorful, raw fold of young people whose childhood experiences are vastly different than anything their memories hold.

Perhaps novels like these served to inspire the Vermont Humanities Council in establishing its vibrant, visionary program, Vermont Reads, which has celebrated one book every year since 2003 that speaks to readers of all ages. The goal of Vermont Reads is to bring communities together through literature, selecting books that are relevant to a broad demographic and which foster active dialogue and earnest exploration of the humanities.

This year's selection surpasses that mandate on several fronts, with the added element of an absorbing local theme and the fact that Vermont Reads Day — at 1 p.m. Saturday in the Bennington Museum — takes place in the birthplace of the author's inspiration for the book.

"Counting On Grace" is the fictional chronicle of 12-year-old Grace Forcier, a character created by Elizabeth Winthrop after a visit to the museum in which she encountered a heartrending 1910 photograph of a girl at a cotton mill in North Pownal. One of about a dozen photos by Lewis Hine in a 2002 exhibit on child labor laws, the portrait of the girl with a pensive gaze, filthy bare feet and a grease-stained smock standing in front of a massive spinning machine moved Winthrop to honor the hardships of children years ago who were forced to work long hours in textile mills throughout the state.

Within a few months Grace Forcier had emerged, whom Winthrop rendered as a French-Canadian girl living in Southern Vermont and who must leave school in order to work at a nearby cotton mill. The book is an endearingly candid look at a bright, brave girl who endures the harsh realities of underprivileged children at the turn of the 20th century, a broad swath of an entire generation that often had to abandon education in order to help put food on the family table.

As storyteller, Winthrop seamlessly inhabits Grace's indefatigable mind, eloquently inducing a meticulous breadth of emotion that, along with the immediacy of first person, present tense delivery, reminds us adults that the path of a child's thoughts is extraordinarily fluid and untainted by the trepidations and biases that often accompany the burden of maturity.

Grace's observations of those around her are forthright and illuminating. After her teacher Miss Lesley suffers the loss of an outstanding student to the economic pull of the cotton mill and then lashes out at the notion that another promising pupil may soon be leaving to work the thread spinner, she unwittingly gives Grace the powerful gift of intellectual encouragement:

"'I'm not going to stand here anymore and wait for that man to snatch another one of my best readers right from under my nose. You want to go doff your mother's machine, then go. Get out!"

She's done with talking now. She grabs the back of my pinafore with her right hand and pulls it up all into a bunch so's I'm practically choking. Then she steers me out the door of the schoolroom with my feet barely skimming the ground. For a scrawny woman, Miss Lesley is strong when she wants to be.

My mouth is still working around what to say next when I find myself on the wrong side of the door. All I can think of in that minute is what she called me. Another one of her best readers. Me. Of all people.

Not surprisingly, a conversation with Winthrop herself flows with the same detailed lucidity and insight. When I asked about the evolution of Grace, she immediately stressed the original impact that the photograph of the girl had on her and the connection it had to her own life at the time.

"It was that I was living six miles from the mill in the photo and the fact that all my fiction is very driven by setting," she said. Considering that part of the comprehensive educational program built around "Counting On Grace" includes a downloadable map of the mill in Pownal, a core motivation for Winthrop is location, location, location.

Having published more than 50 other books — for young readers as well as adults — Winthrop's proficiency and aplomb as a literary investigator is remarkably fruitful. What transpired after she finished "Counting On Grace" is further evidence that, in the most persistent sense, Winthrop does her research.

Just as she was completing the manuscript, Winthrop decided she needed to investigate the photo that had initially inspired her to invent Grace Forcier. She embarked on a quest to discover the identity of the girl who Hine had sadly described in his notebook as an "anemic little spinner" and it was a mission that not only served to validate Winthrop's creation of Grace but that revised a chapter in Vermont's historical annals as well.

One of the first resources the author came upon was an article that appeared in the pages of the Rutland Herald in 1998 that spotlighted a postage stamp that the United States Postal Service had recently issued to commemorate child labors laws as part of their "Celebrate the Century" series. The stamp bore Hine's image of one Addie Laird, a spinner at the North Pownal cotton mill.

"The Herald's article was one of the things that first got me interested," Winthrop explained, "but then I discovered that the Census Bureau couldn't find her."

Though the government had issued a stamp bearing Addie Laird's image, the U.S. Department of Labor had no records of her ever having actually existed. Thanks to Winthrop's research in the database of the National Archives and Records Administration and her discovery of the regrettably powerful effects of faded ink, she finally confirmed Addie's existence.

There had never been an Addie Laird at all, however; the girl in the picture was Addie Card, and at some point her name on the forms had simply faded enough as to be misinterpreted thereafter.

With Vermont Reads Day taking place at the very museum where the seeds of Grace Forcier were first planted, it is sure to be an extraordinarily meaningful celebration of a rich historical narrative that deftly portrays both the mettle and the anguish of Vermont's post-industrial revolution working class.

In addition to a slide-show presentation by the author and a dramatic reading featuring outstanding local actor Willy Jones, there will be engaging activities for kids as well, such as weaving on a loom, dressing up in period costumes, a gallery hunt, craft-making and writing letters to the National Vermont Child Labor Committee. Most importantly, it is an opportunity for friends, families and neighbors to share a story that offers sociological enlightenment and humanistic affirmation — both of which the global community needs in a big way right about now.

Winthrop will also be signing copies of "Counting On Grace" at 2 p.m. Sunday at Northshire Books in Manchester.

Online: www.benningtonmuseum.org, www.elizabethwinthrop.com.

Contact Annie at: [email protected].

Stopping by Frost's House: A literary legend's Vermont home beckons

Last Saturday, the final weekend of National Poetry Month, I found myself gazing up into a huge, elderly maple on the thawing grounds of the Stone House, Robert Frost's former home in South Shaftsbury, and my brain spontaneously accessed a few lines from the second stanza of his poem "Spring Pools": The trees that have it in their pent-up buds

To darken nature and be summer woods
Let them think twice before they use their powers
To blot out and drink up and sweep away
These flowery waters and these watery flowers
From snow that melted only yesterday

The first time I read those words I was struck by how eloquently the phrase "to darken nature" conveyed the lush bulk of New England's midsummer verdancy, when towering trees, colossal in their maturity, bathe entire meadows in shade.

I was further enthralled by "Tree At My Window," finding that I wasn't the only one who anthropomorphized what I consider to be wise, venerable sentinels.

But, tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

When Carole Thompson - ebullient president of Friends of Frost, which owns and operates the Stone House - revealed that the tree Frost addressed in that poem was once only steps from where I stood, I felt I was on sacred ground.

I'd embarked on this sojourn with my good friend Mark Richardson - English professor, eminent Frost scholar and author/editor of several superb books on Frost - and I listened while he and Thompson traded insights about Frost, his family, poetry and peers.

Hearing such expert testimony whilst standing at his bedroom window or staring up at his portrait over the soapstone fireplace is a singularly enlightening experience.

Having been to Dylan Thomas' Boathouse in Wales, Wordsworth's Dove Cottage in England and Robinson Jeffers' own stone abode, Tor House, in California, I can attest that Robert Frost's Stone House is no mere vault of vintage desks, inkpots and manuscripts but a rare opportunity for immersion into one of literature's most enigmatic, beloved and prolific figures.

With Thompson at the helm, expounding on Frost's life from his meeting with Khrushchev to his botanical achievements, this colonial cottage, where he and his family lived from 1920 to 1929, is a cultural goldmine.

Thompson's encyclopedic knowledge of Frost fuels her inspiration for creating the informational panels that line the walls of each room with reflections from Frost's life and times, all woven together with captivating essays that serve, in Thompson's words, as "connective tissue."

The exhibit spotlights the many inspiring women in Frost's life, who championed and informed his work and for whom he felt respect and admiration.

Born in San Francisco in 1874, Frost was greatly influenced by his mother, Isabelle, who regaled him with Robby Burns' poetry in her Scottish brogue and whose burdens as a widow with four children he reflected upon after her death.

In "The Lovely Shall Be Choosers," he wrote:

Invisible hands crowded on her shoulder
In readiness to weigh upon her
But she stood straight still

Similarly, after losing his beloved wife, Elinor, with whom he had six children during their 43-year marriage, he bemoaned the onus that their full and varied life had imposed upon her, admonishing himself in the doing:

"I'm afraid I dragged her through pretty much of a life for one as frail as she was. Too many children, too many habitations, too many vicissitudes. And a faith required that would have exhausted most women. God damn me when he gets around to it."

Amidst the hardship, however, Rob and Elinor shared an abiding devotion that is evident in lines like these from "Flower-Gathering":

I left you in the morning,
And in the morning glow
You walked a way beside me
To make me sad to go.

After her death, Frost said "She has been the unspoken half of everything I ever wrote …" and the presentation of several deeply moving poems about her, including one never published, add an almost crushing element of intimacy to the exhibit.

Frost's life was populated by a constellation of remarkable women who greatly helped to propel his career, and they are all vividly honored in this exhibit.

Thompson's predilection for earthy details and the occasional swath of emotive color further infuses the Stone House experience. One of Thompson's essays recounts Frost's conduct at Vermont's most significant writer's conference, shortly after he'd lost Elinor:

"Frost's behavior at Bread Loaf in the summer of 1938 can simply be called outrageous. He drank tumblers of whiskey and behaved badly to his old friends, like Archibald MacLeish. They refused to take offense at his antics."

The museum's enriching displays show that - though Frost was awarded the Pulitzer Prize four times, a Congressional Medal by JFK and a post as Vermont's Poet Laureate - he was also human, with foibles and fragilities like anyone else.

As Thompson and the Friends of Frost demonstrate, Frost helped assure that poetry found lasting purchase in the cultural soil of society, thus fulfilling his ambition "to lodge a few poems where they will be hard to get rid of …," as he wrote during his years at the Stone House.

"It's a house of literature, not furniture," Thompson insists, "and we make the exhibits rich so you feel as if you've met him."

Indeed.

The Stone House is open from May 1 through Dec. 28, with distinguished speakers slated, starting in June. Plan to stop at Frost's grave in Bennington after your visit; it's a potent, contemplative finish to time spent in the home of one of Vermont's most dynamic, tender and assiduous literary titans.

Online: www.frostfriends.org

Sover Scene Bulletin! The Herald has created a shiny new blog where my columns are being archived. Please visit and let us know your thoughts: http://rutlandherald.typepad.com/soverscene

Contact Annie at: [email protected]

Photos courtesy of Friends of Robert Frost

The Frost Heritage Tree, which he planted himself.

Here's to great American novels: An indulgent weekend with notable authors

Catching a favorite band in concert, hearing an eminent scholar's lecture or attending a celebrity chef's cooking class makes perfect sense because the stars of those events are in their element - the context most germane to their talent where we can observe them doing what they do best. So whoever heard of going on a skiing expedition with … writers? Well, around here, quite a few of us, actually.

New Voices, which takes place Saturday, is an annual gala of exploration, edification, levity and libations with rising stars of the literary world, coordinated by Misty Valley Books in Chester and open to anyone who'd like to share a basket of bread, a wee dram or even a Nordic trail with six outstanding authors.

Now in its 13th year, this event spawns a literary coalition all its own, bringing avid readers, aspiring writers and freshly published novelists together for outdoor adventure, intellectual kinship and vibrant discussion throughout a day that's more abundant with engaging camaraderie than a Russian novel with embittered characters.

Starting in the lovely woods of Grafton Ponds, everyone gathers Saturday morning for a dose of brisk cross-country skiing followed by a fireside lunch in the lodge. Then the party relocates to the handsome First Universalist stone church in Chester for readings by three of the authors, followed by coffee reception downstairs. At 5 p.m., there's a wine and cheese reception at the Fullerton Inn, then dinner and, lastly, the other three authors will read at 7:30 p.m., with all six writers gathering thereafter for an en masse question-and-answer period.

Considering the bright, eclectic roster of writers and this region's enthusiastic literary crowd, I wouldn't be surprised if the evening continued on back in the Fullerton's cozy bar, though a writer has gotta sleep. On the other hand, there's always Sunday.

The most compelling aspect of these events is the symbiotic opportunity they present for each participant - writers and readers - to give and gain valuable input and perspective on the creative process, its end result and the overall emotive impact. In most audience and performer settings, dialogue is limited by time restraints and event construct, even during the question and answer segment that occasionally blossoms into true discussion.

For several reasons, this inventive affair allows folks to talk shop, share anecdotes, explicate motivations and generally get to know each other in ways rarely offered at any standard literary festival or book-signing.

Take the intrepid excursion portion of the program. There's nothing quite like an invigorating trek along picturesque trails to get your mental mojo working, especially when it involves the conversation-conducive rhythm of Nordic skiing.

Then there's the Hemingway method of fostering convivial, if not earnest, in-depth dialogue - that is, over a few tumblers of something slightly more powerful than fresh air.

The main raison d'être for this appealing day of discourse, according to Lynn Reed, who co-owns Misty Valley Books with her husband, Bill, is that it's just plain fun.

Even the readings themselves are unconventional, with guests of honor describing their work rather than simply reciting from their latest tome. "We like to have them talk about their books so the audience can learn something and then when they all get up on stage together and take questions, it's really interactive."

At the center of the festivities, of course, are the books. This year's selections are complex, vivid, in-depth investigations into everything from the brutal realities of our time to generosity of the human spirit.

"Angel's Rest" by Charles Davis is narrated by a Virginia boy in the '60s, whose perspectives on racism, loss and loyalty offer redemption and pathos of the highest order. Bruce Bauman's "And the Word Was" explores anguish and guilt through the eyes of a doctor who tackles the grief over his son's murder by immersing himself in the eloquently articulated socio-political complexities of India.

In "Song of the Crow", Layne Maheu explores the woeful state of our world through the ancient lens of Noah, with a focus on the human condition and the choices we make as told from the expansive perspective of a bird flying overhead.

"Rain Village" is Carolyn Turgeon's captivating tale of the transcendence and healing experienced by an abused girl after a new, remarkable librarian comes to a small Midwestern town.

Alex Berenson's "The Faithful Spy" is about a CIA operative who's been undercover for a decade and finally gets close to al-Qaida. As Lynn describes the book, "You can't put it down," so it's a good thing Berenson, who writes for the N.Y. Times, is working on the sequel.

The story I find especially luminous and moving is "Monique and the Mango Rains," a true account by Peace Corps volunteer Kris Holloway, which details her friendship with an indefatigable and visionary midwife in Mali. The tale of Holloway's sobering introduction to the state of medical services in Africa and Monique's diligence, contagious sense of hope and passion to improve the lives of women and children in a reverently rendered West African village is exhilarating, candid and poignant.

"Jutting from the left wall and dominating the birthing room was an immense concrete block that served as the delivery table. On top of the bare, scrubbed surface a naked woman crouched, strained and pushed, her black skin shining in the dim lantern light. Another woman sat beside her on the slab, supporting her. Set out beside the dented trunk that served as a supply cupboard, was a plastic tub for the afterbirth, a medical kit in a tin box and a frayed birth ledger. So, this was childbirth in rural Mali in the late 20th century."

Holloway's assessment of Monique as "an ordinary woman doing extraordinary things" is an understatement and her talk on Saturday should be nothing less than riveting.

Another innovative dimension to the proceedings is the integration of community members into the presentation of books that are of particular pertinence to their own lives. Bill Dakin of Chester will be introducing Holloway's powerful narrative because his daughter was also a Peace Corps volunteer in Mali; when he and his wife, Leigh, visited their daughter there they encountered many of the conditions, beautiful and difficult, that are so gracefully described in the book.

Anyone interested in making a weekend of New Voices might want to contact local inns that are offering enticing literary package deals in honor of the New Voices events, with dinner, skiing, accommodations and often a free book or two included.

See you on the trails, by the fire, at the coffee urn or in the bar. No matter where, it'll be a bit of literary heaven.

More info online: www.mvbooks.com

Contact Annie Guyon at [email protected].

Copyright, 2007, Rutland Herald

 

 

Revisiting "Sounder" recalls birth of a reader

One humid summer afternoon at the age of eight, I lifted a tall plastic tumbler of pink lemonade with one hand and, with the other, grabbed the slim, crisp new copy of William H. Armstrong's book "Sounder," which I'd purchased that morning with birthday money, then went out to the back yard, plunked down in the patchy shade of our decrepit apricot tree, got as comfortable as I could with my back against its brittle trunk, cracked the book's spine and sat without moving until I'd read it in its entirely, cover to cover. The lemonade sat untouched while, in those few hours - entranced by a boy and his dog and a soaring, plummeting, wrenching, sweet and poignant narrative arc - I was forever changed.

The story's main character, a boy from a poor black family in the rural south, learns more about tenacity, loyalty, truth and courage from his dog, Sounder, than most of us ever learn from each other in a lifetime. He also learns to read and that skill transformed his world, too, in a way that I, with a profound sense of simultaneous intellectual camaraderie I'd also never experienced before, felt I could understand down to my bones.

After closing the book, I sat in a satiated but overwhelmed stupor, convinced I was going to implode or explode or sprout wings or something equally spectacular if I didn't talk to someone about the extraordinary journey I'd just taken. Right on cue, my mother came out of the house to bring in the laundry, so I got up, wiped my eyes, began popping clothespins off the line and proceeded to regale her with the entire tale.

I felt as if I'd lived another life, albeit it one that was miraculously compressed into a matter of hours, and it was obvious that Mum, for all her British reserve and inner quietude, could tell I needed help reconciling this rush of emotions. When we got inside she put the kettle on and, over many cups of strong tea, engaged with me more purposefully and inquisitively than ever before, asking questions and generally nudging me to make my own sense of the obviously transformative experience I'd had during an otherwise uneventful August afternoon.

It was the first novel I'd ever read in its entirety and that fact alone had me reeling with a sense of accomplishment I'd never quite felt before. I'd checked out hefty tomes like Black Beauty or Little Women over and over from the library, but had never managed to complete any of them. Of course, it'd never occurred to me that I probably just didn't particularly like those stories and that everyone has their own taste, even when it comes to books.

"Sounder" was the gooey, warm brownie of literature I'd always craved and I couldn't help but wolf down the entire thing in one fell swoop. The discussion afterward, however, is what completed the experience - the ice cold glass of milk, as it were - by allowing me to explore the storyline and the characters more deeply, speculate on their motivations, come to my own conclusions about what might have happened to the boy after the story ended and embark on that character-defining, soul-searching examination of what is right and what is wrong.

Revisiting the experience of reading "Sounder" reminds me that I've been meaning to pull that book down off the shelf and give it to my kids to read, though I already know they're not going to have quite the same reaction that I did. Just last week my 9-year-old son completed his school's 50,000-page Reading Challenge program, having regularly inhaled 600- or 800-page books since he first got his hands on Harry Potter, and his 7-year-old sister seems to be on the same literary trajectory. Still, I bet they won't move an inch while they read "Sounder"'s 116 pages either and I'll be interested to hear their opinion, just as I've enjoyed listening to animated retellings of so many of the books they've already read, when I wasn't totally distracted by welling pride, that is.

Talking about a good book is like any other reflection upon something pleasant. It's akin to poring over the insert from a new CD after having listened to it all week or hearing an interview on the radio with the director of a film you recently saw and that stayed in your head for days. It informs and augments the impact of the work itself, expanding the experience far beyond its initial scope.

Belonging to a book group, therefore, is an ongoing opportunity to relive literary journeys and take some thought-provoking side trips as well. A few years ago I helped start a book group which, despite a busy schedule that prevents me from attending as much as I would like, is now thriving and every discussion I make it to is generously peppered with learned opinions, refreshing perspectives and usually a great deal of robust laughter as well - though that's often due to inevitable detours into local politics. No matter where the conversation veers, I always come away feeling as if I've read eight or ten other versions of the book, because each person's interpretation is so very unique and insightful.

Occasionally a book will prove to be somewhat divisive and the discussion becomes heated, as with the debate over "Master and Margarita," Bulgakov's once-banned, anti-Stalin novel that immerses the reader in a surreal cast of hundreds who play out an absurdly complex, disturbingly Faustian allegory.

Though many found the book to be burdensome and altogether unpleasant, confounding reading, I think I can say with certainty that we all enjoyed the discussion itself. Well, at least once we ventured into a comparison of the various editions on the table in front of us, which lay amongst the cheese, crackers, olives and wine glasses, and duly assessed which covers we found the most appealing and evocative of what, ahem, lay within. Of course, I'm the one who chose that book and it goes without saying that I've since deferred to others whenever the next six-month reading list is made, lest I risk inflicting another grueling, weighty tome upon everyone.

The wonderful thing about books - and people - is that, even if everyone concurs that reading the book that month was an arduous, positively loathsome endeavor, it's still usually loads of fun just hearing the critiques of folks whose viewpoint you respect as they articulate exactly why the book was so dreadful. On the rare occasion when the consensus about a book is positive, well, then it's pure gravy.

So for those readers who don't belong to a book group, I highly recommend seeking one out. Many libraries facilitate monthly book discussions and below is a list of Southern Vermont library branches. Even if they don't hold their own book discussions, they often know of groups in the community that do. The book selection process usually is very democratic and, in any case, it's a great way to be turned on to something you may never have read otherwise. It's certainly prodded this 19th century lit disciple into the 20th, and even 21st, resulting in many happy discoveries and a growing list of favorite contemporary authors.

Public Libraries

in Southern Vermont:

Bellows Falls 463-4270

Bennington 442-9051

North Bennington 447-7121

Chester 875-2277

Dorset 867-5774

Dover 348-7488

Guilford 257-4603

Manchester 362-2607

Readsboro 423-5460

Springfield 885-2277

Vernon 257-0150

Wells 645-0611

Whitingham 464-8557

Wilmington 368-7506

Contact Anne Lawrence Guyon at: [email protected]

Vermont is a sanctuary for readers

Go wild, simply wild about wonderful books One of the most compelling factoids I learned about Vermont a while back is that this state - which is already overflowing with fine artisans working in a multitude of visual media - also boasts more writers per capita than any other. Add to that the many literary festivals, guilds, readings, retreats and academic programs, and it seems the written word is as integral and piquant a part of Vermont's cultural flavor as goat cheese and maple syrup.

With more than four dozen independent booksellers in Southern Vermont - and nary a Borders nor Barnes and Noble to be found - this region is also a singular sanctuary for new, used and rare books sold in unique, cozy shops, which are far more likely to have vastly informative cashiers than vanilla-infused cappuccinos to facilitate your book-buying experience.

Some of my personal haunts are Brattleboro Books, Northshire Bookstore in Manchester, Olde and New England Books in Newfane and Village Square Booksellers in Bellows Falls.

A particular favorite is vibrant and visible Misty Valley Books in Chester where, in addition to finding bestsellers and a bounty of subjects, you can satisfy your taste for murder and culinary adventure during its Summer Gourmet Mystery Series, an enticing blend of chilling tales read by the authors, followed by dastardly delicious dinners at local restaurants. The next hearty whodunit has John Hilferty reading from his latest thriller, "Moonlight In Vermont," and is slated to begin at 5 p.m. June 24.

But if you want the true creaky floors, disheveled shelves and a one-of-a-kind-finds experience, check out Arch Bridge Books in Bellows Falls, with its jumbled, decidedly anti-corporate window "display" that, upon first glance, had me worried the place was defunct.

Not only is it in full, albeit somewhat unpredictable, operation - the owner never seems to be too far away and always leaves a note on his door regarding his return time - this store is a goldmine of nearly sunken treasures, with obscure gems such as an original 1941 edition of "Curious George," a beautifully illustrated collection of Norwegian folktales, absorbing poetry and art anthologies, and an entire shelf of heavy, clothbound tomes by Winston Churchill with such prophetic titles as "The World Crisis," "The Sinews of Peace" and "The People's Rights."

For a look into Vermont's illustrious literary achievements taking place under the auspices of academia, check out the Writing Faculty Reading Series at Bennington College, which runs June 15 to 22.

Two authors will read each evening starting at 7 p.m. in the Deanne Carriage Barn. The roster is impressive, with writers such as Sven Birkert, whose nonfiction includes "The Electric Life: Essays on Modern Poetry," and novelist Virgil Suarez, who wrote "Infinite Refuge" and "Havana Thursdays," reading from their work.

If you're more interested in ronde de jambs than reams of reading, but still appreciate a classic, well-crafted tale, the Ballet Center in Manchester will be performing Lewis Carroll's "Alice In Wonderland" at the Long Trail School of Dance in Dorset at 7 p.m. Sunday, June 11.

On July 5, at the Southern Vermont Arts Center, they'll also be hosting the Paul Taylor Dance Co., one of the country's premiere purveyors of superlative modern movement.

On the musical front, the Jackson Gore Music Series has begun and takes place every Friday night except June 16 in the courtyard at Okemo's Jackson Gore Inn in Ludlow. The lineup includes the 23-year-old, Washington-based, rising pop, reggae and rock star, Taylor Carson, appearing Friday, June 9, and folk, R&B, bluegrass aficionado Dan Coleron on June 23. And don't forget, the seventh annual Roots On the River Fred Eaglesmith Weekend starts tonight and runs through Sunday in Bellows Falls - produced by Flying Under the Radar.

The Green Mountains are crawling with edifying and entertaining venues and events so, while neither ignorance nor idleness can find any purchase here, we sure can - particularly at all our superb local bookstores.

There's something extraordinarily warm and fuzzy in the knowledge that we're not only investing in our intellects, but in the local creative economy as well.