When we moved to the Berkshires, we were befuddled by the “Thickly Settled” signs popping up here and there. We wondered if this was some effort to shame overweight communities, as in, there was an “it-takes-a-village to get in shape” effort going on. Lose the weight, the signs come down, that sort of thing. Feels far-fetched now I realize, but what else could the signs mean? We now know the signs are not part of any community weight reduction program, but we still cherish the thought.
(Road signs traditionally befuddled our family. On one road trip when our son was a wee lad, he asked about all of the “Watch for Falling Rock” signs we passed. We explained, as one does, that Falling Rock had gone missing, had been seen in that general area, and we should all be on the lookout. When we saw “Fallen Rock Ahead” signs, we clapped, as that suggested he had been found.)
I did not grow up with an annual Christmas tree tradition, something we decided to correct when our son was born. Until we moved to Great Barrington, our new Christmas tree tradition involved a trip to Costco to be handed a tree out of the back of a trailer. When we moved to Great Barrington, our friends, Livia and Jim, told us that that is simply not how it is done. This confused us, as nothing could be easier than being handed a tree. Nevertheless, off we went to Seekonk Tree Farm shortly after that first Thanksgiving, and every year since, to cut down a tree.
In the days preceding our first field trip, there had been rain followed by snow followed by rain. Evidently indolent, all the folks at the farm that day were cutting trees at the base of the hill. We spied the perfect tree at the top of the hill and could not be persuaded to look elsewhere. Getting that tree down is one of our fondest memories. It was a truly fine tree once we scraped the mud off it and us.
The home we moved into required some renovation, which led to a hole in the ceiling between us and the attic. Following our traditional Black Friday Thanksgiving Leftovers dinner, we sat semi-comatose ready to stream something of interest. A bat came down from the attic to join us. Wife and son ran to hide behind a door in another room. My mother ran to open all the outside doors, close the interior doors, and grabbed a broom to shoo the bat out while I pondered what to do. Having recently familiarized myself with dos-and-don’ts in the Berkshires, I knew that bats were protected in Massachusetts and could not be disturbed during certain months, November among them.
What does it mean to disturb a bat, I wondered. If you go up into the attic and try to remove a colony of bats, that probably qualifies as disturbing, but what if the bat comes to you? As a rule follower, this was confusing. Would we have to wait until May? Can you be prosecuted for bat disturbance in the Berkshires? Is the potential for rabies a defense or do you need to actually get rabies to state the defense?
As I pondered these questions, the bat exited the scene with my mother’s (I should say here, if judged by a jury of her peers, her efforts were, by any reasonable standard, gentle) persuasion. We closed the hole and haven’t been visited since, but I remain unsure how to handle such things and—having revealed this family secret—curious if the bat disturbance statute of limitations has run.
We have gotten over most of our move-to-the-Berkshires hiccups, but I am still occasionally befuddled. In a town where we have about one cannabis shop per 1000 residents, the decision not to permit Price Chopper to have one aisle of beer and wine in its store is befuddling.
The argument was, as I understand it, that the town feared not having at least one market with no alcohol. Well, it sure looks like the town’s fear is going to be realized. New Market 32 baskets have been removed from Price Chopper. The space Price Chopper was going to expand into has “for lease” signs in the window. It looks like the effort to transform our somewhat sad Price Chopper into a young vital Market 32 is dead; one can only wonder if Price Chopper is terminal as well.
As Woody Allen said, relationships are like a shark that needs to constantly move forward or it dies, and what we have here is a dead shark. Someone should let the Golub Corporation know that we now realize that sometimes when couples are in a committed relationship, one partner stops hearing what the other partner has expressed it needs. We hear you now, Golub. We were excited that you wanted to enlarge the store, expand departments … You said that you needed an aisle—only a single aisle!—to sell beer and wine, and we said “no.” You told us again how important it was to you, and we still said “no.” I guess we thought we could keep saying “no” and it wouldn’t affect our relationship. We should have been paying closer attention to your wants and needs. Here, have your aisle. Take two! And know we will never neglect you again.
All of the recent employee departures from the Mason Library are befuddling. Library hours have been adjusted due to the head-count reduction. But rather than protesting the harsh conditions that apparently caused the departures, consistent with their natural disposition and training, the librarians quit silently. Maybe we have neglected more than just the Golub Corporation.
It is my impression that every time there is a fire in one of the small towns neighboring Great Barrington, the Great Barrington Fire Department takes care of the fire due to a “mutual aid” agreement. Plainly there is a tradition of neighbors helping neighbors, and I have experienced that myself. One of my neighbors has every tool, gardening machine, ladder size—for all practical purposes, I live across from Home Depot. Our neighbor is generous, always happy to lend both his tools and a hand. Due to such generosity, maybe I don’t need to invest in a 30-foot ladder. Who needs two? How many leaf blowers and string trimmers do I need if I know I can borrow them from my neighbor? But at some point, won’t my neighbor get annoyed that I never contribute anything? And I pose this question to Alford.
Last, I am befuddled by those in the eight towns that will make up a merged school district that do not perceive that it absolutely makes sense to replace Monument Mountain Regional High School. As my mother would say, when the Commonwealth of Massachusetts offers you $54 million, take it. We were fools once for not taking $25 million and replacing MMRHS. Hopefully it won’t be shame on us for not replacing the school now.
