Here are some hopes I have for the Upper Valley in 2018:
For starters, I hope we see a lot more mothers and daughters holding hands as they walk along an Upper Valley sidewalk, as I saw the other day in temperatures approaching absolute zero. They were both adult, both smiling, clearly together for the holidays, and the outdoor chill could not freeze the warmth of their relationship, even through the dense mittens they both wore.
Here’s a dare for you: I hope you eavesdrop more in your day-to-day life in 2018. As long as you are not creepy about it, discreetly poaching a little bit of conversation between a cashier and a customer or a couple of friends in a ticket line at the movies can make your spirits soar. Share what you hear with someone you love. It’s not gossip, it’s anonymous tidbits of life-affirming chitchat you were lucky enough to witness.
I hope that parents — whoo, boy, including this one! — will take more deep breaths and remember that our children are just discovering the world, not deliberately trying to aggravate us. Simultaneously, I hope that my fellow citizens will be patient with moms and dads as their children press the last of their parents’ remaining buttons, triggering adult meltdown.
Would it be weird if I hoped that restaurants offered more food that required utensils to eat? Probably, but give me a break: I used to live in France, where toddlers ate lentils with a spoon and elementary school children enjoyed fish, green beans and rice with real cutlery … during school hours.
I hope Hanover Country Club doesn’t close. (#firstworldproblems!)
What say we make a collective effort to answer the question, “Do you want to …?” with the word “Yes” instead of “No”? In my experience, it leads to wild adventures, lifelong friendships, and, most important, an inexhaustible supply of memories.
This year, I hope more people wonder their inner thoughts out loud. The other day at a water fountain, a woman said, “It’s so funny how water is transparent and yet you see it.” I have been unable to shake the remark, and I am grateful to her for sharing it.
On Wednesday, I was in a bit of a pickle. I had trash in my car, but not quite enough cash in my pocket to buy a new card for the transfer station. The public works employee quickly told me that I could make up the difference the next time I came. His immediate, no-questions-asked understanding made me say to myself, “Good luck with that in a big city.” Then, a resident who had overheard the conversation proffered a sawbuck, saying, “Just give me a ten next time I see you.” Because we both live in the Upper Valley, with no demonstrable intentions of fleeing to Zimbabwe, Tasmania, Oaxaca, Kentucky or even Burlington, we both wordlessly understood that the risk was minimal.
I hope you have good things happen when you are getting rid of your refuse and recycling in 2018.
It would be healthy to bubble bust a little bit and try to spend some time understanding how other people see the world. Too often, we fall into the trap of groupthink, assuming everyone’s worldview is the same as our own.
Difficult as it can be to lift up our eyes and open our ears, the reality is that what is happening in Bradford, Vt., is not the same thing that is happening in Claremont. Ripples in the Upper Valley are not the same ripples in Maine, Massachusetts or Rhode Island. Life in Alabama or Alaska or Arizona is not the same as life in New England. And the young Kenyan man who said to me in November, when temperatures were in the 30s, “It’s cold here,” well, I think it’s safe to say that what’s going on in Kenya is pretty different from what you and I experience every day, at least from a meteorological perspective. So I hope we will push our intellectual toes into some other people’s shoes and walk around a bit in 2018.
(An aside: the Kenyan man has a “host family” that outfitted him with appropriate winter gear. I hope I remember to do something that nice this year.)
It is my fervent hope that a grand total of zero stoplights are added anywhere in the area. In truth, taking a few away would suit me just fine. Jesum Crow, people, this isn’t a metropolis.
I hope that people will continue to surprise and enchant us with the beauty of their language. Last month, a man described the crust on top of fluffy snow thusly: “It’s like a perfect crème brulée.” I knew exactly what he meant.
I do not believe that I am the only one here rooting for a bit of perspective as we gaze out on a world that confuses and concerns us. I have no idea where we are headed, but hyperventilating about all the potential troubles out there has never done anyone a lick of good. Remember, when it comes to resilience, humanity is thus far undefeated. Whatever awaits us out there in 2018 and beyond, I hope we all have the courage to remember that good times are always ahead.
On New Year’s Day, nine adults played a spontaneous game of Scattergories. Though not without its outrages — the coastal town of Falmouth, Mass., does not count as an American “city” — the game was remarkable because it stood as an example of the power of human interaction. With only our imaginations, friendly competitive spirit, and a sense of humor, we all allowed our responsibilities and stresses to melt away for an hour.
I hope the winds blow you many similar experiences in this special valley straddling Vermont and New Hampshire, and that you will look for them and notice them as much as you can.
Lastly, would anyone object if I humbly hoped that we get some warmer weather sometime soon?
Mark Lilienthal lives in Norwich. He can be reached at mlilient@gmail.com.