Silent Cal

Having recently made reservations at Killington for our family's annual Columbus Day weekend trip to Vermont, I have to note that this is one of the high points of each autumn. Indeed, it's probably my favorite family activity . . . and we've been doing it for about 7 or 8 years now. We leave after school on Friday and return late on Monday, so we have a decent amount of time to drive around and see the fall foliage. Nevertheless, about the only bow we make to the typical tourist ritual is a quick trip to the Vermont Country Store in Weldon. Otherwise, we spend our time looking for off-the-beaten-path hamlets, local diners, and Vermont's unpaved roads (which are better than some states' paved roads).

When first making this trip we stumbled upon the Calvin Coolidge historic site in Plymouth Notch. It has a little museum, the General Store (pictured at right in a badly executed tourism photo) run by his family (in which he took the presidential oath of office from his father following the sudden death of Warren G. Harding), some farm buildings, a church, a small cheese manufactory, and beautiful grounds with lots of grass and apple trees. We never spend more than an hour or two on the grounds and my boys love running about in the crisp, early October air after spending considerable time in a cramped car with Mom and Dad saying, "Oh, isn't this quaint," and "Check out the bright oranges and reds on that mountain" for the umpteenth time.

Now I'm not specifically a fan of Coolidge, whose devotion to small government and a laissez-faire economy doesn't really mesh with my own socialist outlook. To a certain extent, one could say he represented a throw-back to the presidents of the Gilded Age. Still, I can excuse Coolidge's affiliation with the Republican party because he was one of the most honest presidents in our history - at a time when public confidence in the office of the chief executive had been shaken by the scandel-ridden administration of Harding. The current Bush could learn something from studying Coolidge's behavior. But enough of the presidential history lesson . . .

Calvin Coolidge had a reputation for circumspection. In fact, as a man of few words he earned the nickname "Silent Cal." Visiting Plymouth Notch, one can understand readily the cause for Coolidge's silence. Every year I'm struck anew by the sheer beauty and silence of the place. Tucked into Vermont's mountains, Plymouth Notch oozes quietude the way New York City literally bleeds noise. (Mind you, I actually like the background noise of the City: it's akin to the white noise hiss of a fan or the man-made equivalent of a radio astronomer's background noise, which is said to be the leftover energy from the Big Bang.) How could Calvin Coolidge not have become a quiet person? The silence probably seeped into his skin, osmosis-like, from an early age. And obviously the oeuvre of the place stuck with him in later life, long after he had left Vermont to become involved in Massachusetts politics (which included a stint as governor). In fact, he used the family home in Plymouth Notch - and a large room above the general store for an office - as a summer retreat during his presidency.

Well, it's no surprise that Plymouth Notch, having made such an impression, should become a subject for my paintings and photographs. The "Gulf" gas pump sits in front of the general store. I've painted it several times from different angles and this is the most recent example . . . at 11x14 a little larger than my usual 9x12's. (In the photograph of the store above, one can just make at the pump to the left of the steps.) The weathered barn is near the store. (This proved to be a very difficult painting; trying to capture the look of aging wood is not easy, I discovered.)

So, my reservations are booked . . . Calvin Coolidge, here we come again.