There is a story about Icelandic families living in the shadow of the volcano which erupted in the early 1960s. These families had prior warning that their town would be consumed by lava, and before they left their houses for the last time, each family made the beds, put away dishes, swept, and left everything tidy, then closed the door and the lava soon closed in.
In many ways, this story pertains to our times. Even if all seems futile, and we are headed toward certain doom, the choices we make–to live honestly, following our moral judgement perhaps more often than our instincts–does make a difference. On some higher plane. We may not know it in this lifetime, but surely there is reason greater than our own.
In Vermont, our moral imperatives extend beyond helping neighbors. We are all stewards of pristine forests, lakes, rivers, and wetlands which demand our energies to defend. Any affront to our lands must be exposed, loudly, on all platforms available to us–of which the written word does not cease to be paramount. When shaming of an unscrupulous profiteer does not work, demanding accountability will.