Vermont’s storyteller par excellence describes being “an old man in a muddy month,” reading to a dog and waiting for the end of the plague.
“I don’t think this is bravado. There’s nowhere else we can go to get away from the virus if it does spread as predicted, and fear is only debilitating. It seems ironic that here in the Home of the Brave so many citizens are panic-buying guns, hand cleaner and toilet paper. Price Chopper’s shelves were utterly innocent of tissue this morning. I must admit that yesterday, probably with hand-cleansing in my sub-conscious, I ordered a few bars of Lava soap. It made no sense, but it’s been a long time since I’ve washed my hair with pumice and smelled like a miner home from the pit, and I’ve kind of missed it. As for toilet paper — my wife left me a bidet."
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