Every once in a while someone runs an idea up a flagpole to see if anybody salutes. At long last a brainstorm involves a flag.
The Sunday Valley News reported — on Sunday, not surprisingly — that Lyme resident Greg Stone is testing interest in a green, white and blue Upper Valley flag that would wave from sea to shining sea, or the local equivalent.
Color me intrigued. I’m a super fan of the Upper Valley brand, which the Valley News has reported dates to June 9, 1952, when this paper came roaring into this world, midwifed by a crew of ink-stained pressmen.
The editors said it would serve the Upper Valley, their name for pretty much any nearby place where they could sell their broadsheet.
All these years later, here we are. It’s still not absolutely clear where the Upper Valley begins or ends. Is there a Lower Valley? Do its residents look up to us? And what do we make of the portion of the Connecticut River Valley that is farther north? Many years ago mapmakers drew dragons in terra incognita. We could envision hungry bears and pirates on snowmobiles to the far, far north, but GPS takes the romance out of such imaginings.
By my reckoning, the Upper Valley is centered in Lebanon, Hartford and Hanover, which were more frequently referred to as the Tri-Towns when I moved here in 1982. I don’t know why the term has faded; maybe it declined as Upper Valley rose in prominence.
You even hear Boston weather forecasters refer to the Upper Valley when they deliver their hysterical snow forecasts, as if 12 inches of snow would stop us. (Actually, there are more winter wimps than there were decades ago, but that’s a column for another day. In the meantime, it’s only four months until Nov. 1, National Snowtire Changeover Day.)
My own Upper Valley ranges about 45 minutes in driving time both to the east and west of Lebanon, and about an hour to the north and south. At my age, any farther and you start to be concerned (vaguely or urgently) about logistics, such as the availability, location and quality of roadside restrooms. Coronavirus jitters make this issue only more pressing.
Come to think of it, the region’s boundaries have been expanded by people’s willingness to undertake long commutes, often to the Dartmouth-Hitchcock medical colossus and the nearby college that you may have heard of. We don’t have a single city center, but there’s no doubt as to where the starter cord of our economic engine is pulled. If the Dartmouths sputter, we are all in for lean times.
Even if the Upper Valley is just a state of mind, a reflection of fondness for an idea, it’s interesting to think of what could be made of it beyond a flag.
The official animal of the region could be Mink the bear, who hoofed thousands of miles to find her way back after being relocated from Hanover to Coos County, which apparently lacks the Upper Valley’s panache. Mink might even merit a place on the new flag, along with the locally made doughnuts she and her cubs once craved.
The official dessert: the maple creemee. The official spelling is creemee, according to the Upper Valley dictionary. Violations should be a misdemeanor, at the very least.
The official car likely would be some sure-footed Subaru, now that we are past peak Prius. In some villages, the unofficial car could actually be a pickup truck.
The official hair color: gray, of course. Aging in place is a major pastime around here.
As for the official motto, I think it should reflect the sensibilities of both states. Let it represent our high ideals and good sense, our independence and common bonds of metal, paper and plastic: “Live Free and Recycle.”
Finally, I have worked up a draft of a pledge to the proposed Upper Valley symbol. It’s a work in progress, much like the flag.
I pledge allegiance
To the flag
of the Upper Valley and environs.
And to the region
For which it stands.
Two states, one sensibility,
with courtesy
and cell service
for all.
Dan Mackie lives in West Lebanon. He can be reached at dan.mackie@yahoo.com.
