I live in a small, quintessential Vermont town. It's not the "nothing ever bad happens here" rural town you hear about in true crime podcasts, but it is quaint, idyllic, and kind of simple at times. While Vermont isn't very populated, I live in the most populated county in the state. Crime is low, but we know bad stuff could happen, so we lock our doors while looking out for one another. When I was a kid, I always thought I would live in a big city, yet here I am, a proud soccer and hockey parent loving my suburban life. What's not to love about my community? I am surrounded by a progressive pocket of hardworking, smart, and thoughtful people in a country that feels very dated in its beliefs and desire for progress. Every time we are faced with challenges — usually weather-related forces of nature — my neighbors have stepped up and in to clean up messes. Now I am seeing how willing my town and state are to also clean up social justice messes and protect each other from a global pandemic.
I was thankful for my community before COVID-19 invaded our state, but I continue to be overwhelmed with gratitude for the kindness, thoughtfulness, and creativity of the people who live here. Our governor has crossed political lines and has asked doctors and scientists what needs to be done before asking economists the same questions.
This means clear and strict COVID-19 guidelines are in place and are enforced. Masks are mandated, and people wear them with pride because folks trust leadership, science, and the need to take care of each other if we are going to get through this safely. We aren't Karen-free, but compared to what seems to be the majority of the United States, there are fewer entitled and obnoxious people here demanding to have their privilege trump the health of others.
Minus the few outliers, my neighbors and community members are acting in ways that protect others. As a result, our positive COVID-19 rates are the lowest in the country. There is a willingness to sacrifice comfort for the greater good, and it's contagious.
Halloween was a great example of how far people were willing to go to give kids a sense of normalcy in strange and scary times. Our town organized a trick-or-treat walk that allowed families to walk among decorated tents or tables that were spread out so kids could still experience the evening.
Houses put tables at the ends of driveways with individually wrapped treats and spaced out candy bars. Or they built candy shoots and sent extra candy through, because the adults were just as excited to participate as the kids filling their bags. I walked with my kids through some of these neighborhoods, and families stayed together; kids patiently waited to approach a table until it was clear of other people. This is because the adults are setting examples our kids need in order to continue the cycle of kindness.
What makes me appreciate my neighbors so much, though, is that we have turned the word "sacrifice" into words like "new" or "different." As a result, my kids are in school, have been able to participate in sports, and have taken advantage of extracurricular activities while social distancing.
Teachers and coaches have worked hard to keep kids engaged and are still able to weave in hand sanitizer, temperature taking, and mask wearing. Air high fives are given frequently, and instead of numbers read on the thermometer, adults will give kids affirmations or silly jokes as if their tool is a magic eight ball and not another reminder of living in a pandemic.
Classes and events are held outside as much as possible, because even though small groups are asked to stay within designated spaces, we are still together. We know that these connections are what make us stronger, so when we are asked to increase our physical distance, we are working hard to keep the emotional ties close. This also means our focus can be on multiple events and issues at once.
As the signs went up in support of our essential workers, so did the signs in support of Black lives. Food drives and free mask donations weave their way in and out of peaceful protests and the raising of Black Lives Matter flags at the schools in my district. Our community Facebook group can get ugly, but the number of people pushing back to push humanity forward far is greater than the noisy few.
I live in a small, quintessential Vermont town. A lot of really good things happen here.
