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The Valley Reporter
P.O. Box 119
Waitsfield, VT 05673

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Finding an oasis in Waitsfield

Five days after Irene, I hit the goat track north; destination Waitsfield. Along the way I came across a big shiny dump truck heading south. On the cab door it read: Town of Warren. Thank you, Warren, you were like a lifeboat motoring towards a sinking ship.

Plunkton Road was passable and for the next two weeks it became the lifeline between two valleys. I know your sleepy road was rattled by continual heavy trucks making their way south and fast cars desperate to go north. Thank you, Plunkton Road residents, for enduring the unexpected traffic -- and for staying intact!

Finding Waitsfield was finding an oasis. The grocery store was open, there was gasoline for the car and Three Mountain Cafe had coffee brewing and lunch not brought in by a Black Hawk helicopter. You even sent me south with dog food, thank you. It was over coffee that I learned of the Hurricane Relief Center at the Masonic Lodge. Walking through your doors was like walking into NASA on a launch day. The place was buzzing. Wonderful nurturing souls whisked me up and loaded me with information to carry back to Granville and Hancock. You filled my car with food and cleaning supplies for people in my valley.

While days seem to be counted in culverts and no longer on a calendar, I know you did this for me for at least the next 10 days, if not more. Through your kindness and generosity I carried your gifts door to door wherever I saw the need. I know some of you by name, Kate Williams, June Anderson, Theresa  Langston, Erin Chase, Jean Hubbell, Eve Silverman; thank you. Thank you to all of the volunteers who trucked your gifts down this way and to those of you who have lent your equipment and muscles to help repair the White River Valley.

Lenord Robinson, many thanks to you for your dedication to the White River Golf Course; without your help, there has been little light. And to all of you in the Mad River Valley, in your own time of crisis, thank you for being able to look south.

This past Sunday, I ventured out to the river to take the dogs for a swim. For 20 years and three dogs, I have become intimate with one little beach. It wasn’t there. The river had slightly changed course but yet was still as inviting as on any autumn day in the past. These are the rivers we love, the rivers we play in and sit lazily beside under the warm sun basking like lizards. We are all part of the history of the river. Pretty amazing place we call Vermont.


Cindy Kilgore lives in Granville.



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