TOWNIE TALK

Author: Elizabeth Lathey

The other day while enjoying a meal in a Middlebury dining hall my friend and I were talking about Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream. Being a Vermonter, I know a thing or two about Ben & Jerry's, and I guess I had assumed that most other people have the same innate knowledge about the Vermont-made ice cream.

However, when my mention of Phish Food was returned with a blank stare, I looked at him amazed. I could not believe he had not experienced the dessert ecstasy known as Phish Food. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who has not partaken in this delectable pleasure has not experienced life.

After contemplating my friend's lack of ice cream expertise, I realized that there are probably a lot of people out there who cannot name all the flavors of Ben & Jerry's. This led me to the conclusion that I have thoroughly undergone a transformation into becoming a true "Vermonter."

When I moved to Vermont in sixth grade I definitely noticed the pride my new friends had in the Green Mountain State. Maybe it was the jeers and taunts of "flatlander!" that echoed around me in the halls. OK, maybe I'm exaggerating a little here, but those who originate in Vermont are pretty passionate about the place.

Being from Vermont is definitely something to be proud of. We have mountains. The Grateful Dead played one of their last shows here. Many fine alcoholic beverages are brewed here. We have civil unions.

People like to make fun of this state because there are so few people here. A half million less people than are in most large cities in the United States, to be exact. But, the rather miniscule size of the state is really where the social bond comes from.

So we have a lot of cows; not a big deal. I like cows. Besides, if we didn't have cows, how would we know when it was going to rain? (A well-known Vermont myth, or maybe it's just me who's heard it, is that when the cows are standing, it won't rain, and when they are lying down, it will.)

Besides, what other state can boast that it bases a large part of its economy on breaking down chlorophyll? Although this may sound very cliché, I work on a farm. Hey, before you start laughing at me, think of the out-of-staters I meet. They all look alike with their purple minivans, runny-nosed kids and over-priced hiking boots that only leave the closet for such strenuous exercises as pumpkin picking. In the middle of nowhere, they'll whip out their disposable cameras and snap pictures of the foliage. "Ooooooh look at the colors!" they exclaim.

Last time I checked, orange and red are colors commonly found in many everyday items, including tourists' children's Crayola boxes. No need to drive all the way here to see it, folks.

But I digress. I must get back on track before I divulge too much and cause the collapse of the state's economy. General disdain for tourists is probably not a quality that is shared by all Vermonters. Some, but not all.

Vermont is pretty liberal. Our representative, Bernard Sanders, is an Independent. We call him Bernie. Billboards are illegal so we can appreciate our natural surroundings. In Vermont, the state recognizes homosexual unions, a symbol of the state's Progressive politics.

It is hard to define exactly what it is that makes a Vermonter one of a kind. When you can enjoy listening to a musician play for free on Church Street (for you out-of-staters, Church Street is located in Burlington) more than in the Boston subway, you will understand.

This is the first of a series of educational lessons about the beautiful state in which we are all living for the time being.

Although my attempt at teaching the uninitiated about Vermont may have fallen short this time, I hope I have quelled some of your fears about all those kids who can go home in between classes to get lunch.

As for the rest of you, at least there is Ben & Jerry's in the cafeteria.