Once upon a time. . . two confused Californians were whizzing through a little town in the far northern reaches of Vermont looking for a blacksmith. . .
Why did they want a blacksmith?” you might ask, for their trusty rental automobile surely did not need new shoes. But that’s another story.
Anyway, as the visitors drove through Hardwick they spotted an old brick building on the street corner. It was clearly a noble Bank at one time, offering financial accommodations to the funds of local businessmen and farmers. The Bank must have moved on to new virtual space or loftier headquarters, and the brick building became a bookstore offering literary enlightenment to the townspeople. A drive ran along the structure’s side, right to a window declaring
“The Story Teller Drive-Up Window”
In the way of most good stories, it took a while to get back to the treasure; that is, the visitors still had to find that blacksmith. . . but, later in the day. . . before leaving the little town, they made a special point to visit the Drive-Up Story Teller.
By that time of day, the weather had changed from humid and sticky to humid and wet. The rain was falling in big drops as their car pulled up to the window and they asked the sweet lady for a story. She laughed, trilled really, and leaned in to the metal box to speak.
“I can’t tell you a story,” she said. “But, I can sell you a book.”
Cruel words for the fantasy-starved.
“What?” the travellers cried, incredulously. “No story?”
“No,” she replied.
“But it says right there,” they added, pointing to the sign over the window, “Drive Up Story Teller.”
“No, no,” the lady corrected. “This is The Story-Teller’s Drive-Up Window. Bank Teller, Story Teller. Would you like to buy a book?”
Perhaps the residents of Hardwick, Vermont are actually lucky to have The Story Teller offering a Drive-Up Window. Instead of a quick story, they can buy a good weekend read without having to get their pajamas wet in the rain and snow. Maybe that’s the Vermont version of living “Happily Ever After.”
