Life by the Country Code isn’t cheap, but it is rich

Back in the day, when Perrin was writing his essays and I was cutting my first fangs in op-ed, Perrin took a dry old Vermont witticism on who is, and is not, considered a “native Vermonter” and spun it into an entire essay. For some time, being considered a “native” was a thing incomers aspired to, and if you yourself were out of the running, you could at least provide your offspring with this honor by right of birth.

The Vermont riposte to this vain hope was, “If the cat had kittens in the oven, you wouldn’t call them biscuits, would you?”

I am a “native Vermonter” having, by accident of birth, grown up on an ancestral farm with the original deed placing it in the now nonexistent town of Mansfield. I consider that status to be a matter of questionable luck, and having ancestors who were either incredibly steadfast, or completely lacking in imagination.

There is a culture that underpins Vermont’s social fabric, a framework of unspoken rules more rigid than anything the ton of Edwardian England ever dreamed up. Perrin called these rules “The Country Codes.” Violate them and, like Robert Frost’s farmer who misspoke to his hired men, you might be excused as a newcomer…or you might not, and suffer the consequences.

Perrin dubbed the code that regularly trips up new residents, and old too, “The Power Code.” I think it might better be called The Rule of Extended Dignity. Under this rule, giving preemptory orders, even to people one has employed, is extremely rude.

One never orders. One requests. The Code requires everyone be given the dignity of autonomy and respect regardless of perceived economic, educational, or social status. You don’t say, “Do this,” you say, “Would you be able to take care of this?”

In addition to respecting the dignity of one’s neighbors, the code has the added benefit of shielding you from errors of assumption. In Vermont, the person mowing your lawn may well have advanced degrees and prefer lawn care to office politics. The person driving a battered truck with a tangle of tools in the bed may be the same person signing off on your mortgage.

In the detritus you leave behind when you move to Vermont, toss any sense of social superiority. It’s an expensive toy, and you won’t miss it.

While you might have to squint to see it, the Country Code underpins the legislation John Labarge recently dismissed as overreach on the part of an “arrogant” majority.

Labarge, in addition to being a “third generation Vermonter,” one step beyond a biscuit in the oven, claims the Legislature does not care about “lower and middle-income Vermonters, or seniors on fixed incomes” and rolls out several pieces of recently passed legislation as proof of this. As a lower income (6th generation) Vermonter, soon to be a senior on a fixed income, I’m going to take issue with this.

Let’s start with school lunches. Can someone please explain to me how it is not supportive of lower and middle-income families to know that regardless of how stretched you are in a week you can be confident your kid is going to get fed at noon? How is that worse than paying for a bureaucracy to keep track of which kids are “poor enough” to get fed and which kids can’t have a meal because their household hasn’t been able to cough up the cash to pay that week?

A global lunch program respects the dignity of children and families, and, as Labarge pointed out, it doesn’t cost much.

Then there is the Affordable Heat Act. The Affordable Heat Act is not perfect. The issue of energy management is complex and slippery. But we do know lower income, older, and rural households are disproportionately impacted by higher energy costs. One of the features of this act is funding for a small army of outreach workers, one of whom recently visited our household.

This person’s job is to help Vermonters through the complicated paperwork of this income sensitive program, and to do an initial evaluation of the home to spot any glaring issues which need to be immediately addressed.

In our case, the inspection revealed that our combination CO2 and smoke detectors are correctly placed for smoke detection but do nothing to protect us from a deadly CO2 buildup. The state technician placed two detectors up, screwed them into the wall and instructed us on how and when to change the batteries.

Also, as part of this program, we will receive a comprehensive analysis of the most cost-effective steps we can take to weatherize our home. If our household falls below the income caps, we will even receive help with those projects.

Labarge claims the Legislature does not care about vulnerable Vermonters and offers as proof the legislation passed to support…vulnerable Vermonters.

What is true now, and likely was true back when our farm was clawed out of trees and rocky ground, is this: Vermont is not a cheap place to live. And, traditionally, Vermont has been a poor state. Today we have, as a consequence of our lower incomes, the dubious honor of having the 4th highest tax burden in the country, with a total estimated tax burden in 2023 of 10.28 percent.

Vermont is not cheap. If you want cheap, there are 46 other states that are cheaper.

Instead, Vermont is caring. It’s written into the Country Codes that underpin the quietly unassuming culture that has been serving Vermonters for a couple of centuries. It is written into the legislation passed this session.

And that’s the way the biscuit crumbles.

Tamara Burke and her family were longtime residents of Stowe, leaving the Garnache-Morrison Memorial Forest as a gift to the community. She and her husband, the sheep, and a riot of golden retrievers now call Craftsbury home. She works in Stowe.