All Posts Tagged Tag: ‘Vermont’
I putted my head out the winnder alots and alots on this summer’s road trip, since they wasn’t a movey roof on the rolly house like last year. I smelled everthing. I have run and played and sniffed and chased and barked and leapt and curled up in a ball in a tent in 27 states in two years, which is a lot better than where I lived before, Def Roe. Here is some pitchers of me wif my head out the winnder. Click to see my whole ears.
One happy feature of our bonus 24 hours in Dorset, Vermont (scroll to “Brokedown Mountain” post) was that Peter and I had the whole afternoon to visit with nearby Stan Hynds ’83 and Stephanie Moffett-Hynds ’84. Driving the brand-new fine-furniture transport truck graciously loaned us by our Dorset host Steve Holman ’78 (Dodger loved the back of the truck, very spacious for lying down), we first stopped at Stan’s place of business, Northshire Bookstore. Northshire is an independent bookstore of the kind I had been missing without even knowing it: a thriving, multi-leveled, labyrinthian hub of discovery and solace smack in the middle of the naturally lovely and gloriously isolated town of Manchester, Vermont.
Some years back, Stan and Stephanie moved from Pasadena, Calif. to Vermont, the move the fruit of their search for a place where he could professionally relish his love of the book business, where she could pursue professional acting, and where they could rear a family removed from the worst of the world’s current craziness. They found it. From Northshire Bookstore, Peter and I drove to Arlington, Vt, where we found Stan and Stephanie’s straightforwardly, unfancily sprawling home on a lush Vermont mountainside piled high with books and artistic sensibility–not a television in sight. There is a TV in the guest house out back, a converted workshop of a previous owner, Stephanie told us over cheese and fruit and brews. Two winters ago, she said, the Moffett and Hynds clan and friends would pile out there in their coats and watch through the mist of their own winter’s breaths as the Wildcats played their hearts out. Stan and Stephanie and kids Wally and Sarah would run laps around the house to celebrate Wildcat leads, and to stay warm.
The real warmth on our visit in August came from the story of the return of the ring. Some year or so ago, Peter had received a Davidson class ring in the mail from a couple, with a note saying they had found it in on the back of a sink in a public lavatory, and had intended to return it immediately, but it had ended up for some 20 years in the back of a drawer. Oops. Long story short, the ring had belonged to Stephanie’s dad, Dr. Bill Moffett, Sr. ’54, and furthermore, she had been with him the day it disappeared! He died in 1995, but Stephanie and her mom were thrilled to get the ring back.
George up at Long Trail Auto called at 9 on Friday morning to say the car was fixed, so we had to leave the Holman/MacGarvey compound. I sadly left my hammock. It was a swell stay with grand folks in an idyllic spot, and a plethora, nay a myriad plethora of happy laughs. Southerners got no lock on hospitality, and God’s country is what you make it. A big, big, BIG thank you to the Holman/MacGarvey clan for going the extra mile, fun and funny Steve Holman ’78, lovely and talented (and funny) Georgine MacGarvey, and their two fine sons Jeff and Brett.
Dorset, Vermont. Yesterday a lovely evening with the wonderful Steve Holman ’78 and Georgine MacGarvey, artists of custom furniture, painting, architecture, landscape, and life in general, including sons Jeff and Brett. Here, they pose with their own personal, garden-variety Venus de Milo as Peter and I prepare to wend our way southward:
Now, the tow truck is on the way, and Steve and Georgine are fixing lunch. Did I mention how wonderful they are?