Vermont Times

A few thoughts and lots of photos from my time house sitting in Vermont.

100+ Years Ago

I learned something about Pullman Porters years ago when reading The Warmth of Other Sons by Isabel Wilkerson (one of my all-time favorite books – check it out). These were African American men hired to work on the luxurious “hotel-on-wheels” train cars of the Pullman Company. Though it was considered a coveted job for Black men, and even helped lead to the formation of a Black middle class, it was also understood to be the worst job to have in the company overall.

I learned more about the porters, unexpectedly, when I visited Hildene, the summer home of Robert Todd Lincoln who was the only surviving son of Abraham Lincoln. Robert was president of the Pullman Company, the largest manufacturing company in the country.

The home and surrounding acres of land are beautiful and well worth a visit. Some years ago, the museum purchased and restored an old Pullman car in order to tell a more complete story of Robert Todd Lincoln.

Walking through the restored carriage, I learned of the unjust conditions the porters worked under including relying on tips from their white patrons while working up to 100 hours a week in cramped conditions. Unfortunately, some of what I learned seemed too similar to today’s discussions around workers’ rights, greed, and racism in all its forms.

There is so much more to the story of the Pullman Porters, including the fact that they formed the first Black union in the country, under almost insurmountable odds. The Brotherhood of Sleeping Car Porters would go on to become influential in the Civil Rights movement, including helping to pass the 1964 Civil Rights Act.

Who knew I could learn all of this in a small town in Vermont!

50 Years Ago

Taking the scenic road back from a hike, I saw a sign for Weston and made a quick turn. Twenty minutes later, I was brought back to childhood memories of our yearly pilgrimage to the Weston Priory with family and church “cousins.” I loved those trips though I had nearly forgotten about them until recently.

I remember attending church outside on the serene grounds of the priory. I remember wondering what the life of the monks must be like, and considering whether or not I would be a monk or priest someday. I mostly remember fun times with siblings and friends catching salamanders in the brook behind the motel we stayed at, staying up late and sleeping on the floor, and waking up one night with what I can only describe as an asthma attack – a source of many family stories at my expense.

The monks were on silent retreat while I visited this time, so the grounds were even more quiet than normal. There was one attendant in the bookstore and a couple of other visitors. Everything was exactly as I remembered it. Even the reception room seemed to have the same furniture from the 70s. I walked around the grounds in quiet contemplation, thinking about how quickly 50 years passes by.

Timeless

When I wasn’t hanging out at the homestead, I would hike in state parks, climb mountains that would soon be filled with skiers, and visit other nearby landscapes. There is no end to the beauty in nature and I was grateful to have so much time to just immerse myself in it.

I also visited small towns, covered bridges, and ate too many general store homemade cookies.

Time for a Walk

Roo and Arrow, my constant canine companions at the homestead, loved their daily walks at the Stratton Snow-Making Pond, just a few minutes drive from home. I could not stop taking pictures of the ever changing scenery of colors, shadows and reflections. I met other dog owners and got to know some of the regulars, but at other times we had the whole place to ourselves. It was magical.

At Home on the Homestead

Fresh eggs every morning, daily espresso, vegetables and herbs from the garden, apples to pick, naps to take, chilling on the front porch, watching the full moon rise from the hot tub off the back deck – the homestead had it all. Until next time . . .