I write a column for my weekly newspaper, the Stowe Reporter. I wrote for a while for a big Vermont daily and was asked to write for another one. I didn't, though because there is something very close to life about a local weekly paper. Local papers are about layers of lives
lived in one place. I had this thought in mind as I read last week's Reporter.
A fresher wound lies next to the Act 60
revisionism. The Wrath of Hurricane Irene
will cost Stowe millions, it says.
Deeper in the paper are hard truths about the Hurricane. A letter to the editor by a neighbor
thanking all those who helped after they lost their foundation to the floods;
an excellent column about the importance of local eateries to a town, and the
devastation felt by some of the best food and drink spots in our broad
community (if you can give to Mint or buy beer from the Alchemist, please do);
another letter of thanks to people from our small town driving down the road to
assist Waterbury in its recovery; a heartfelt column by Senator Bernie pointing
out Vermont really suffered and paying tribute to those who lost their
lives.
People in Vermont will be talking about the Flood
of ’11 for decades to come.
Grandmothers will pull out old newspapers and lay them out for the kids
to see (the kids will be bored but will look at the papers to be nice to
Gram). Right now the news is raw
but it will yellow as will the newsprint.
The most interesting story
unfolding in our fair paper week after week goes to the Police Blotter. Everyone starts reading the paper somewhere. Me? Each week I go right to the Blotter. The DUIs; the public displays of anger,
or nudity, or handguns; the occasional high crimes. They all titillate and educate. They also make up why history is interesting. People don’t go to Pompeii to see how
that ill-fated town paid for its hockey rink – they go to see the brothels and
dirty graffiti written about local magistrates. They go to learn about life.
My favorite police blotter stories week in and week
out are about a perennial culture clash:
“Shots fired. Police find
nothing.” In Vermont you can carry
a loaded gun and shoot it. And
many do. This simple fact is
bizarre to many who move here from away. But it is true. And the police won't stop it. The other favorites are 'coat reported missing' at the top of the blotter and 'coat found on main street' reported near the bottom.
Last week’s best reports? A report of an intoxicated man. He was not intoxicated, police said. And this one wins: someone reported the waft of marijuana
smoke in the halls of the West Branch Apartments retirement community. Someone’s grandmother – probably the
one with old newspapers to share with her grand kids – just didn’t want to
confront another evening watching CNN without a little buzz on. Police Found Nothing.
There is heartrending drama set in motion by the
police blotter too. You can follow
the stories from police blotter to arraignments to court reporter. Lives ruined or wasted, property
smashed, driving privileged suspended or worse. Life.
Other bits from last week’s broadsheet show how
things change. A public parking
lot is approved to access some nice hiking and mountain bike trails. Growth. The Seventh Graders pose – all smiles – on the beach in
Maine. Same picture each year; the
faces change. A new wine bar is
set to open in Waterbury (and parenthetically another GMVS graduate makes
good). It can’t come too soon.
Each week there are businesses opening and closing;
obituaries and birth announcements; people selling wood, cars, services, homes;
theater reviews and gallery openings; letters thanking neighbors, letters
blasting neighbors, letters on issues; photographs of people in parades,
receiving honors, listening to a teacher.
Each week there is another layer of history to catalogue and
put on a shelf in the town’s new museum.
David Rocchio lives, works and writes in Stowe, Vermont. (c) 2011 David Rocchio
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