I’m away from “06880” for a few days — literally, though not cyberhoodically.
I’m in 05676. That’s Vermont. The Staples boys soccer team is on its annual summer trip. A ropes course, running up and down mountains, paintball — you know, the usual stuff.
I love Westport. I also love Vermont. They’re very different, of course. But, a couple of days before I left, I realized that there’s a little bit of Vermont in one tiny corner of Westport.
It’s Christie’s Country Store.
Everything about it — including the name, which it’s kept since 1926 — oozes a simpler way of life. (Though the food — in a nod to modern-day tastes — is not stuck in the Jazz Age.) And there’s a great ice cream stand next door. (Right next to a great auto repair shop.)
All day long, real people wander in. Local kids ride bikes. Neighbors meet neighbors. Contractors, lawn maintenance guys, repairmen, delivery folks — all stop by.
Most customers are regulars. They banter with the staff.
They hang out at large tables inside. Or eat on the porch.
And there — watching what passes for the world going by on Cross Highway — is the real Vermont vibe.
It’s quiet. It’s green. It’s serene.
Occasionally, cars go past. A guy on a bike, or a woman walking a dog. But they’re all at the right speed.
I eat in peace. I’ll soon have Westport places to go, Westport things to do.
But for a while, at least, I have Vermont.