We have returned to Vermont and I have caught a bad case of nostalgia.
My symptoms are obvious. I walk around sighing deeply my phone at the ready to capture images of things I remember. Something is wrong with my vision because I only see in sepia tones. As my son eats his creemee I see him in triplicate. He is a toddler and a young child and here his is now, on the same bench under the same tree with the same country store behind him. He is even giving the same sigh of pleasure as he makes the maple mustache that he never seems to see.
As I type these words I feel that I have written them before. Perhaps even at this table in the corner. Likely at this coffee shop. Certainly in this town.
After dropping Leo off at the field house for soccer camp just as I did four years ago I walk the few blocks to the village center. As I go I want to head down the lane to the carriage house that used to be my office but I pass by, worried about trespassing. It is part of a larger sense of no longer belonging. The sign in the town green says “you are here” but I read it “you were here.” I am a visitor in my own life.
Finally I reach the worn stairs and see the same lovely young mom that I passed each morning many years ago. Now she has three kids but the young ones are echoes of the first born I knew when I lived here. I ask her what she has planned for the day and she tells me “play group and nap.” Her present is my past. There is no more playgroup. There are too few naps. I wonder if the nostalgia I feel is for this place or for the family we were when we live here year-round.
A few weeks ago we were eating lunch in Burlington at Flatbread continuing our tradition of Flatbread Fridays. We are friends of this restaurant, Steve has brewed beer here and the boys know the menu (or their small slice of it) by heart. They sit, like always, in a table in the closed section of the bar with a backdrop of City Hall Park through the picture windows. They are silhouettes in the sun my sons. I see the lemonades in tall glasses that they are now old enough to order from the bar and say please and thank you without prompting. They carry them with confidence to the table and I wouldn’t give it a thought except that I remember the times when this would not have been possible. I am not the only one remembering. Leo asks if they can slide down the stair rail at City Hall “for old times sake” and I wonder if he has caught my case of nostalgia.
When I pick up Leo up from soccer camp I ask him how it went. His eyes are bright “I rescued a frog” he trills. “I knew just how to save him. I put him back in the pond that we went to in Kindergarten.” He goes on “I wonder if it is the same frog?” “Was he sort of brownish, faded around the edges, and did the theme from Wonder Years play when you held him?” I asked. Leo writes off my wistful description with ab arched eyebrow and we drove away, stuck at the same traffic light as always, thinking about frogs and photo filters.
The next day I know Oliver is also suffering. We are at the playground at their old school and the stories are coming quickly. “This is where I fell and hurt my knee, this is where I ran the jog-a-thon, this is where my friends knew how to push me just high enough on the tire swing.” But this last one is not true. The playground is new. There is no tire swing. I try to read his face but it is neutral. Leo has bumped into friends and they are off playing soccer in the field, everyone exclaiming over his short hair. Oliver, now 12, is climbing around the playground alone. He has almost outgrown it. His body is broad and strong. He is in a new setting and for now I see him just as he is. A boy who holds my hand and still also offers the advice of a much older soul.
He walks towards me slowly where I sit on the picnic table which dates back to our years here.
“I am not sure if it is nostalgia” he tells me. “But I don’t like this playground as much as the old one.”
“Yes” I tell him. I open my arms and he leans against me. Too big to play, old enough to know what he has lost, but no matter where we are, still and always, my little boy.
Oliver and his friend used to eat Creemees every Wednesday.
We started in Vermont. I was sort of crushed by it. Unlike last summer where Vermont was wearing its sunshine finery it was grey and chilly for most of this visit. Last year we went tubing on the lake, to outdoor concerts, and BBQs at the yacht club (whatever you are picturing when you read the phrase yacht club you are incorrect- it is quite un yacht like.) This year we shivered. Even so as we branched onto Falls Rd at 11pm past the literal country store with its sign for Maple Creemees I began to cry. And it wasn’t 100% because I forgot to take my pills that day. It was for a time and place lost to us. It was for my little boys who had grown medium and a town which was a postcard come to life. It is a place where I knew individual trees and had helped veterans craft the message for their monuments. Now we were outsiders.
Don’t those stairs look tiny?
Except of course we weren’t. In the light of day (slim and grey as it was) we were swallowed back. Breakfast on the farm, sitting by the pool, eating in restaurants owned by friends the farmers market. It was the same stuff, just a little colder. Steve sent me a video of the boys sliding down the stairs of city hall in Burlington after a lunch at Flatbread. The stairs had gotten smaller. Of course they hadn’t. It was the boys that had gotten bigger. Almost too big to slide. Walking with Oliver’s hand in mine he remembered things. So so many things. The video he filmed to educate crossing guards, the tree he fell from, the bridge he built, the favorite food spots, the trick or treating. He didn’t remember the days inside in the cold, or the time the smoke from a Montreal fire drove us inside from the playground. He didn’t remember all of the days that were the same as each other as we worried about what was for dinner and whined about bath time. We had frozen Vermont into its best bits. So I traveled the whole emotional spectrum as I drove the familiar roads past crumbling barns. My sense of place was lost, then found in memories. As usual I dragged my family to real estate showings. At the first house Oliver wept. Please, he pleaded, please can we move back. I didn’t bring him to see any other houses.
The boys found some of these eggs still warm under hens.
We decided to re-claim a little slice of Vermont. We would spend summers in Shelburne and all of the other seasons (which magically actually do reveal themselves as three) in Denver. So 15 minutes before we hit the road for the cape Steve and I whipped through a 2 acre property with a huge yard and woods to the river and decided to put in an offer. So much for putting our move in perspective. We drove for about 45 minutes in silence to make sure my excitement wasn’t going to unduly influence him. We stopped at our friend’s farm to see her piglets and take 2 dozen gorgeous eggs to the cape. She calls her farm “Next Chapter Farm” which is perfect for her and, I felt, instructive to us. As we drove away Steve turned to me with a shining face. “I think we should do this. I think this would be really great for our family.” So I sent the text and we made an offer. Two houses…and hopefully two homes.
Pretty much what we do at the beach.
As our rental car crunched on the gravel of the beach house driveway that evening I wondered if my mother would be there. For 14 years she would meet us at the end of the weathered grey walk making the same chirping excited sound as she reached both for a hug and a suitcase. Then last summer it was different when her partner was in the hospital and she on crossed the bridge from Boston to the cape one time all season. They both have houses here. It was where they met. This year he is as well as a 90 year old can be, walking the dunes down to the water, working, enjoying the ice cream. Even though there is no hospital she doesn’t live here anymore. She lives with him. When she leaves us to go to him she says she is headed home. Then she pauses in confusion. “I don’t know what to call it.” She tells me. But I know what she means. He is home to her.
What freaking spine is that?
We stay for 2 weeks on the beach. The low tides are not quite low enough to find as many critters as usual, so Leo doesn’t kill any wildlife. This time he finds them washed up and dead. Decaying horseshoe crabs and smelly fish spines. It was a huge spine. Despite his scrubbing it had to leave the house as well. We host a few people. Cameron, who always sparks a debate in our family about whether he is a kid or an adult, brings a friend and they take the boys kayaking. Leo seems particularly dedicated to slotting people into age groups. At 9 almost 10 he has researched the phrase “tween” and decided that the majority of sources grant him that status. I am tempted to agree as he tries on teenagehood much more frequently than his unflappable brother. Finally he has a ranking system in place. Infant, toddler, child, tween, young teen, teen, young adult, adult, and old. It is a verbal version of Ombre, the divisions growing further apart and darker as he continues.
The not teen, not adult, my college friend, her daughter and lobstah.
We have lunches on the deck with new friends and old standbys. Steve makes his office wherever he lands. We have a bonfire on the beach with five families.My father has been gone for 16 years and the best of his work and collection is out in the world. He has pieces at the Metropolitan Museum, the MFA, the Smithonian and many more. Including the cape basement. I hold my breath and head to down to the safe room to inventory my father’s art. This was once a collection that we curated together. (Not the new overused version of curated but the actual literal use of the word.) Now it is a chore. Or many chores. I photograph and label. I dust and sneeze. I think about legacy. What he left for us when he left us. Mostly I think about just getting this done and getting back to my book. I rarely read here, generally the house is full, vibrating with the breathe and plans of a dozen people. For all but a small handful of days it is just us here.
Who could get angry at that man? Not me.
My mother watches the boys one night while Steve and I head out to dinner. We start out with oysters in Wellfleet village. Or he has oysters. Despite my love of steamers and mussels oysters still feel like I am swallowing someone’s detached tongue. After wandering the shops and somehow managing to leave empty handed we drive back to Truro for dinner. We go to our favorite spot. The one where we decided to have the third kid that never came to be. The one where we held hands across the table because we couldn’t stay apart. This time we fight. It is so rare for us to fight that we barely know how to do it. I find myself aware of the family at the table next to us. I am worn thin and uncharitably begin judging them. I don’t know what they are doing here in the outer cape, which is scrubby both with pines and people. This family is polished. For all I know this is their big night out and the kids were in flip flops and three day old t shirts just hours ago. I want to send them to the Vineyard where “casual” is carefully constructed. Undoing its essence. Instead I pull my attention back to Steve, back to our discussion. We are not sure about the Vermont house. We are not sure about his work. We are not sure about our priorities. Not only do I recognize that these are problems of privilege, but I also remind myself how lucky we are that this is such rare confusion. We generally disagree about things so minute as to be funny. Here I am not sure we are disagreeing at all. By then end of dinner we have not resolved anything. Probably because there is nothing to resolve. Yet the energy has left the fight. There is no electric field pushing us apart the way it normally pulls us together. We drive home quietly. Usually we take a meandering route through marshland and oceans. This time we had straight back. Home.
I can never photograph the magic. But you get the idea.
It isn’t though. All vacation my mother has been telling me it is “my house.” We are sleeping in the master bedroom, we are changing light bulbs and washing windows, we are ordering water filters for the fridge. We are acting like it is home…but it is not. It is a magical lovely family place. It is a place to share. Pushing open the door revealing the huge windows with views of the bay from Plymouth to Provincetown I see my My mother and Robert rocking next to each other watching the sun begin its nightly bedtime routine. The room is cast in a rosy glow. They tell us of an afternoon of totems on the beach and report on the unsatisfying amount of protein and vegetables the boys ate. We stand for a few more moments watching the sun slip away. Then it is time for them to go home. I thank them and they make their way slowly to the door. It reminds me a bit of walking down a long hallway towards a stranger. When do you wave or nod? Too soon and you need to duck your head for your final approach steps. It is hard to get the timing right on their departure. I thank and hug them over by the rocking chairs but it is several minutes of moving to the front door. I re-thank at the threshold and again there is a pause, my mother holding the door for Robert then heading down the walkway with his things. The reverse of our arrival.
Unicorn. A picture of me in the water.
Fully packed we take less than the normal amount of sand and head to Boston. I grew up a few miles outside of the city but it never felt like home. I left as soon as I could and have never returned for more than a weekend. I know it is a city many people love. It has sport and architecture and education. It has a park system designed by Olmsted, of Central Park and Shelburne Farms fame. It is smaller than NYC but somehow not more humble. We meet friends for dinner in the South End. Drew is unerring in his pick of great eateries. In Denver he takes us from low to high East to West each meal more exciting than the last. His partner is in Boston for the summer. He is a Boston virgin and is clearly charmed. I know they will move here in a year. Drew grew up a town away from me and it still feels like home to him. In fact the restaurant he picked is “in the neighborhood he would live in.” It has a park with a fountain, and behind the 1800s brick facades I see the glass angle of the Hancock building. I do something I never do and swim in the hotel pool with the boys. I understand the idea of baptism. Moving from one place, one stage to the next.
Oliver jumps into the river at Steve’s favorite spot.
The next morning we fly to Indian River. Well, obviously we don’t fly to Indian River because that is impossible. We fly to Travese City and drive 2 hours to Indian River. This is where Steve grew up. He takes us to the green docks on the river where he cooled off in the summer. He showed us state parks and lakes. We slept in his childhood bedroom and Leo sorted through his baseball cards realizing with dismay that the Rockies were not represented (which might be the first time anyone really wanted a Rockies card.) The boys had a great time. It was hard for Steve. He lamented lost trees. His wooded neighborhood had been truly stripped bare. Behind his mother’s large lot there was mini-storage and one of those frighteningly large power poles. Along with these changes came upgrades. There was a rail trail that led 50 miles in either direction. The small park had a fresh playground. The main change though was that his father wasn’t there. He died over 3 years ago but this was only our third trip back. I know he could see him there. Echoes and memories. Also there were tangible signs of his absence. The siding was peeling and the septic needed repair. Steve’s happiest moments in Michigan were when he was sweating in the sun tearing apart the deck to reveal the septic system. It was ready to be repaired now.
Father and son and sons.
On our last day in Michigan we went to the cemetery to visit Steve’s father’s grave. It is decorated with flowers but not by a headstone. I imagine that permanent marker would make things just that. Permanent. His grave is in a shady spot adjacent to a golf cart path. He was a golfer, and a coach, right up until the end of his life he was the volunteer greens keeper for the course that flanks the cemetery. They have brought him home.
Home. At least one of them.
Now we are back. I am back in Denver. I already weeded most of the front garden. I walked to the back patio to look at the lemon tree and hibiscus, the tomato and sweet vines, the snap dragons and tall grasses. They were all alive in their pots. My cousin and 4 other families had tended them while we were gone. Now we can take care of them. We are home.
The push and pull of creating solutions for global markets while still staying rooted to a state like Vermont with emerging financial and technological resources is not a new story. It is the (not so) secret side of doing business in a small community, great support and exposure, which often leads you scrambling for the local resources to support your growth.
One of the main features of Seven Days’ technology issue highlighted Draker Laboratories, a privately held Burlington Vermont Company. I was one of the early (and small) investors in the company. This is the (not so) secret side of my career. In and amongst the software on winwinapps’ balance sheet is a (not so) small handful of companies that I have helped fund in a minor and occasionally (not so) minor way.
Draker’s work building monitoring for alternative energy systems is admirable, as is their stated goal to stay Vermont based. It will be interesting to see where they are in a few years. IBM, and Dealer.com notwithstanding, most tech companies seem to need to reach an escape velocity at a certain level of success.
You don’t need to have a tech company to play both sides of this global—local tug of war.
Tonight Steve and I start our second round of the Parenting on Track course. I have watched Vicki’s commitment to her family and Vermont play into the steady but (not so) exponential growth of her company. She has reached so many families and changed so many lives. Yet not at the numbers that she SHOULD have reached.
It shocks me that I can still get myself into a room with her. This woman has “it.” Not only does she have real information, but her presentation style is celebrity worthy. Love her or hate her (and I can tell you it is mostly love) everyone responds to her. The first time I met her for coffee to pitch my marble jar app my husband asked me twice. “Really?” “Vicki is meeting with you really?” Her core audience is more than a third of the worldwide population, her message is vital, her program works, and she is still mixing live classes into her offerings. She should be global by now, not local. Fingers crossed Steve and I will be taking our 3rd class through a webcast only, because Parenting on Track will be the common toolset of families everywhere.
The Vermont brand is strong. Is the Vermont hold just as strong? Can we go global and stay local? Is this the (not so) secret side of business in Vermont?
KidSafe Collaborative is a nonprofit serving Chittenden County, Vermont. The organization works to improve response to and prevent child abuse and neglect, providing direct support to families and advocating through partnerships with local organizations. On June 20th, they will host their 6th annual fundraising bike ride in the islands of Lake Champlain.
The idea: To improve child safety and well-being by aggregating multiple solutions together in an integrated way.
KidSafe works on two levels: on a family level, the organization coordinates “Child Protection Teams” that directly address the needs of over 350 children and families in Chittenden County.
To ensure the safety of children, KidSafe recognizes they also need the coordinated support of other agencies. This is why they partner with community organizations to improve the systems (protective, legal, medical, social) which respond to child abuse and neglect. This includes facilitating collaboration between human services agencies and the criminal justice system.
How it started: In 1969, the Community Child Protection Network was formed, a volunteer organization dedicated to improving Chittenden County’s response to child abuse and neglect. Over the years the group has changed in name and structure, but its mission has remained consistent.
Today, KidSafe leads a partnership of over 30 agencies, community groups, and individuals – all working together to improve support systems for area children and families.
How they used winwin apps: On June 20th, 2010, KidSafe will be holding its annual KidSafe Island Ride, which begins at Grand Isle State Park on beautiful Lake Champlain and raises funds for the organization’s important work. KidSafe is using their winwin webstack to manage registration and donations for the ride.
More info: To learn more about KidSafe Collaborative, visit their website at www.kidsafevt.org.
About “winwinner” Wednesday: Each week we profile one of the nonprofits using winwin apps to make the world a better place. If you’d like to be featured on our blog, drop us a line!
In August, 2009, Adam Wilson and Corie Pierce put together a proposal that was approved by the Vermont Land Trust. They were chosen to take over the 143-acre Leduc Farm in Shelburne, VT. Adam and Corie named their venture Bread & Butter Farm, producing fresh milk and meats, vegetables, and traditional breads. This month they are opening a farm store so customers can buy food at the farm and see exactly where it comes from.
The idea: To create a community farm that produces delicious, nutritious food, takes care of its animals, plants and people, and preserves a beautiful piece of land.
Who does what: Adam manages the small dairy; the cows are 100% grass-fed and the farm sells the cows’ delicious milk raw. He also runs the wood-fired oven bakery, where he bakes traditional German sourdough breads. All the flour is organic, local, and milled the day before baking.
Meanwhile, Corie heads up specialty greens production: spicy and mild Brassica-based salad mixes, spinach, lettuces, kale, chard, Asian greens and more, grown year-round in unheated greenhouse structures heated only by the sun. Additionally, Corie runs the educational programs for kids and adults at the farm.
A video about B&B Farm.
The initiative: Adam and Corie were selected by the Vermont Land Trust as part of their Farmland Access Program. This conservation program helps diversified, experienced farmers gain access to productive, affordable farmland. Bread & Butter Farm’s varied, synergistic operations are well matched for the farm’s soils, infrastructure, and location.
A conservation easement was placed on the land as part of the program, which helps landowners and conservation groups voluntarily limit development on productive farmland and forestland. Landowners still own (and can sell) the land, but the easement remains on the property permanently.
The winwin: Adam and Corie get to do what they love. Locals not only get farm fresh food, they also get to visit the farm and see the operation firsthand. And this beautiful Vermont land gets permanent protection, ensuring the farm will always be producing fresh, delicious food.
Late last year, our friend Jen Mincar founded Office Squared (“02” for short), a coworking space in Burlington, VT for freelancers and telecommuters seeking a collaborative workspace.
Not only has 02 been a great space for people to work (we’ve spent most of our time at 02 during the development and lanch of winwinapps), but Jen has also hosted a number of successful business events there.
On May 4, for instance, Office Squared will be hosting an on online display advertising workshop.
winwin apps' setup at 02.
Conducted by digital marketing expert Greg Stobb, this session will teach attendees how to cost-effectively target prospects on the web through proper strategy and effective measurement. Partial proceeds from the event will benefit Save Our Strays of Vermont.
Office Squared is using winwin apps to register attendees for the event (tickets are $15 and can be purchased on 02’s winwin webstack).
Also, the winwin apps team has partnered up with Lara Dickson of Deep Dish Creative to help 02 out even further on upcoming stuff, so stay tuned for more…
The King Street Center is a nonprofit community organization in Burlington, VT that provides children and families with programs that build academic skills, physical fitness, and other skills necessary for a healthy and productive future.
The idea: To provide support for children and their families through educational and recreational programs. The center engages with families and the community to promote personal and social wellness. Their programs provide fun and enriching activities year round for children, teens and adults.
How it started: In 1971, a few dedicated parents and a group of volunteers from the University of Vermont started the program out of a van parked next to a laundromat and a budget of only $90. Much has changed since then, but the area remains a working class neighborhood with a high concentration of subsidized housing units and immigrant and refugee families. Today, the King Street Center serves over 500 children and families each year, offering an accredited preschool; after-school programs for K-5, middle and high school students; evening drop-in programs for teens; mentoring programs, and English language instruction (in partnership with Vermont Adult Learning).
The winwin: Children and teens receive the kind of academic and recreational programs they need to develop into healthy adults. Families are supported and actively engaged in the community. And volunteers get to have fun with kids and feel good about making a difference in the community.
How they used winwin apps: This year’s Burlington Clothes Exchange (which we wrote about in an earlier post) is benefitting the King Street Center. But the center itself is also holding a raffle as part of the event and offering some great prizes including a $500 yoga package and a one-year family gym membership. (Go pick up a few tickets now!) The Clothes Exchange and the King Street Center are both using winwin apps to manage this great initiative to raise funds for the center so they can continue doing their great work.
About “winwinner” Wednesday: Each week we profile one of the nonprofits using winwin apps to make the world a better place. If you’d like to be featured on our blog, drop us a line!
The Institute for Sustainable Communities (ISC) works in communities around the world, giving passionate, committed people the tools and skills they need to inspire active citizenship, protect the environment, and take on climate change.
The idea: ISC was founded to help create economically, environmentally and socially healthy, resilient, sustainable communities. This effort takes a great deal of practical, integrated problem-solving and a long-term perspective. It is the belief of ISC that every community has the ability to find creative solutions to complex problems; ISC strives to help people realize this potential, building capacity and infrastructure and leaving a legacy of leadership and results.
Video: winwin apps' founder chats with ISC
How it started: In 1990, Vermont Governor Madeleine M. Kunin monitored the first democratic elections in Bulgaria. Inspired by the potential for change, Kunin and her policy advisor, George Hamilton, returned to Vermont with the commitment to help communities in the region address environmental, economic, and social challenges. A new organization was born: The Institute for Sustainable Communities.
ISC began with two projects in Bulgaria and Hungary, helping local governments work with citizens to identify environmental priorities, develop action plans, and implement cost-effective solutions to the communities’ most urgent environmental issues. To date, ISC has managed 74 projects in 22 countries, leaving behind strong community leaders, organizations and networks with the capacity to keep building upon ISC’s work.
The winwin: ISC promotes sustainability throughout the world – working with communities to create a better quality of life, healthier ecosystems, more effective governance, and better economic security.
In the meantime, ISC inspires local individuals, institutions and businesses to become involved in the continued success of their own communities.
Video: ISC talks about using winwin apps
How they used winwin apps: In November of 2009 ISC produced an extremely successful fundraising event in Williston, Vermont. “Wine & Swine” was a live and silent auction, as well as an evening of wine tasting from around the globe, and local and faux pork and desserts from local eateries.
ISC used winwin apps to register attendees, manage the auction, check-in and check-out guests, and more. (See ISC talk about using winwin apps in the video on this page.)
About “winwinner” Wednesday: Each week we profile one of the nonprofits using winwin apps to make the world a better place. If you’d like to be featured on our blog, drop us a line!
The RU12? Community Center in Burlington, VT is a powerful force for equal rights in the green mountain state. Its mission is “to celebrate, educate and advocate with and for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ) Vermonters.”
The idea: Create a place where LGBTQ Vermonters could meet, learn, and organize for greater equality. RU12? has a drop-in resource center, a free community space with a lending library and a cyber center. Its staff members and volunteers train people about LGBTQ cultural competency, Elder issues, violence prevention, health issues, and more. RU12? also provides important programs such as the SafeSpace Anti-Violence Program and peer-led support groups to help with coming out and transgender issues. And RU12? advocates on behalf of the LGBT community in the media and the legislature as well.
How it started: RU12? was founded in 1999 by two students at the University of Vermont who believed that Vermont needed a multi-generational, substance-free, queer space open to people of all ages, races and genders. The organization moved from its first location on the Lake Champlain waterfront to their historic building on Elmwood Street in 2003. RU12? continued to grow, and in 2006, SafeSpace merged with RU12?, as did Equality Vermont. RU12? is now the largest LGBTQ organization in Vermont, and works closely with many organizations including Outright Vermont, the Vermont Freedom to Marry Task Force, and the Vermont Network Against Domestic and Sexual Violence.
The winwin: Lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer Vermonters have a place to go to learn about LGBTQ issues, celebrate their identity, receive help and support, and form a community to affect change. For the rest of the state, RU12? (and its partner organizations) shine a light on LGBTQ issues to encourage a shift toward greater tolerance and equality for all Vermonters.
How they used winwin apps: This year on May 22nd, RU12? will host its 11th Annual Queer Community Dinner & Auction. With comedian Ian Harvie performing and items up for bid from JazzFest tickets to birdhouses, the event promises to be a fun night for a worthy cause. RU12? is using winwin apps to register attendees and manage the auction.
More info: For more information on RU12 and its offerings or to volunteer, visit www.RU12.org.
About “winwinner” Wednesday: Each week we profile one of the nonprofits using winwin apps to make the world a better place. If you’d like to be featured on our blog, drop us a line!
CarShare Vermont is cool nonprofit on a mission to provide Vermonters with an affordable, convenient, and reliable alternative to owning a car.
The idea: If more Vermonters skipped owning and driving cars in favor of using shared vehicles just when they needed wheels, we’d reduce greenhouse gases, save money, and create a stronger community.
How it started: In 2002, a group of Burlington residents caught wind of “car-sharing,” an innovation that was growing in cities across the country. The group reached out to the San Francisco Bay Area’s nonprofit City CarShare, where by chance, Vermont native Annie Bourdon answered the phone. Annie collaborated with the group over several years, and when she finally moved back to Burlington, she helmed a grassroots effort to get the initiative off the ground. By 2008 many volunteers (individuals and businesses) were involved, and the service launched in December 2008 as CarShare Vermont.
The winwin: Area residents use one of 5 Priuses and 4 Imprezas parked throughout Burlington, VT to get around town, do errands, etc. Residents don’t have to bother with the expense and hassle of owning, maintaining or parking a vehicle the city has less traffic congestion, and the air has fewer greenhouse gases. Now that’s a winwin!
How they used winwin apps: CarShare Vermont’s 1 year anniversary event, “Share the Love,” was a fundraiser at the Main Street Landing in Burlington, VT. CarShare was a tester of winwin apps’ early software, using it to promote the event, register attendees, and manage their fundraising auction.
More info: CarShare offers memberships for individuals, families, and businesses with rates starting as low as $4.95 an hour and $0.25 per mile, including gas and insurance. Users can reserve by the hour or day and only pay for what they need. For more info, visit www.carsharevt.org.
About “winwinner” Wednesday: Each week we profile one of the nonprofits using winwin apps to make the world a better place. If you’d like to be featured on our blog, drop us a line!
My symptoms are obvious. I walk around sighing deeply my phone at the ready to capture images of things I remember. Something is wrong with my vision because I only see in sepia tones. As my son eats his creemee I see him in triplicate. He is a toddler and a young child and here his is now, on the same bench under the same tree with the same country store behind him. He is even giving the same sigh of pleasure as he makes the maple mustache that he never seems to see.
A few weeks ago we were eating lunch in Burlington at Flatbread continuing our tradition of Flatbread Fridays. We are friends of this restaurant, Steve has brewed beer here and the boys know the menu (or their small slice of it) by heart. They sit, like always, in a table in the closed section of the bar with a backdrop of City Hall Park through the picture windows. They are silhouettes in the sun my sons. I see the lemonades in tall glasses that they are now old enough to order from the bar and say please and thank you without prompting. They carry them with confidence to the table and I wouldn’t give it a thought except that I remember the times when this would not have been possible. I am not the only one remembering. Leo asks if they can slide down the stair rail at City Hall “for old times sake” and I wonder if he has caught my case of nostalgia.
When I pick up Leo up from soccer camp I ask him how it went. His eyes are bright “I rescued a frog” he trills. “I knew just how to save him. I put him back in the pond that we went to in Kindergarten.” He goes on “I wonder if it is the same frog?” “Was he sort of brownish, faded around the edges, and did the theme from Wonder Years play when you held him?” I asked. Leo writes off my wistful description with ab arched eyebrow and we drove away, stuck at the same traffic light as always, thinking about frogs and photo filters.
In August, 2009, Adam Wilson and Corie Pierce put together a proposal that was approved by the 
Late last year, our friend 
The 
How they used winwin apps: This year on May 22nd, RU12? will host its 
