Keeping your community covered. We're committed to producing high-quality, fact-based news and information that gives you the facts in this community we call home. If our work has helped you stay informed, take action, or feel more connected to Windham County – please give now to help us reach our goal of raising $150,000 by December 31st.
Keeping your community covered. We're committed to producing high-quality, fact-based news and information that gives you the facts in this community we call home. If our work has helped you stay informed, take action, or feel more connected to Windham County – please give now to help us reach our goal of raising $150,000 by December 31st.
Careful readers of these pages might recall a piece I wrote less than a year back.
In that one, I railed against capitalism and, more pointedly, an insurance industry I likened to gambling for putting profit before health. A secondary target was the entire Western medical model that failed to deliver service at a price anyone could afford.
Let's pause a minute on this whole health insurance thing. This is not a story about a website that doesn't work. Or even a government. It's about gambling. Before I delve in, a few facts: I'm 55, married, and have not had health insurance for the past 20 years.
Not too long ago, I attended a group for adoptive parents. It seemed a strange thing for me to do. True, I had adopted my firstborn son. He was 6 months old. He is Filipino-American, dark-eyed, and gorgeous. True, eight months later, my second son arrived by birth. True,
What is a woman if she is defined by women? This was what I thought the women's movement was all about. In early consciousness raising groups, we encouraged women to speak up and speak out. Implicit in such encouragement was a promise to listen. Feminist presses sprang into being. Poetry readings were held in every town. We all had subscriptions to Ms. and at least one other journal. No doubt in the sixties and seventies, feminism was my faith. I...
Today, I picked up a pen. The kind you get 10 for a dollar. And a pad, just like the pad we all used in school. The pad cost $1.49. Then I wrote a letter. If you are very young, you might never have written or held a letter in your hand. It is a missive between two people delivered by the post office anywhere in the United States for 46 cents. It is a way to connect with another...
It was 1991. I was 56 and I needed a job. I had a 30-plus year gap in my resume, and I knew it wasn't going to be easy in a recession to find one. I had been a stay-at-home mom and now was on my own. Everything in my life had to be put on hold while I found a job. When I walked into the Vermont Department of Employment and Training, it was just by chance. I had...
What you hear first is the laughter. When you peek in the door, there are 10 or so heads bent over a long table as if people are participating in some ancient ritual. Actually, that might be one definition of painting. For that is what you are seeing if you are on the second floor of the Brattleboro Senior Center on a Tuesday or a Thursday morning. I was lucky enough to find the room several years ago. What did...
Imagine one of those winter nights when the snow squeaks underfoot because it is below zero. Five people gather in the moonlight. On entering a small, rural farmhouse in a New England town, each person heads directly for the woodstove. Parkas, wool hats, and dripping boots are piled on a chair near the warmth. This small group stands around a scarred oak kitchen table. Against the far wall, the hums of the woodstove occasionally disintegrate into small gasps of collapsing...
