Lenox is basically a rich people vacation town - specifically, a white rich people town. Seriously, there are no people of color here. None. Everything is very spread out and difficult to find. The public transportation is lousy. And there seems to be an overall snooty attitude. The librarians were nice, but that is all. More important, most of these buildings are not very accessible, and trying to get around this town is challenging, to say the least. Oh, and I've seen Trump bumper stickers (that's stickers, plural). Jolly!
One thing that is rather creepy and confirms this town's status as a white rich people area is the number of places where you can get plastic surgery - all just around the corner from your local candy store! I shit you not; this building was just beside a bakery:
And I saw this one when I left a little sandwich place that was situated amid several little chocolate and candy stores:
I don't know if this is like when you see a Marble Slab next to a Jenny Craig, but damn. I guess this explains why many women in this town have solid, unmoving facial expressions.
Curiously, it is incredibly difficult to find an ATM in this village. I would assume Yankees need cash just like anyone else, but good luck getting it. Back home, you can find one on most street corners, and there will always be one in a grocery store, drug store, or gas station.
In New England, not so. I have had to ride a taxi to get around in this town, which is sucking me dry financially, and the driver was kind enough to help me find one - we had to go to three places just to find an ATM! Today, when I left my hotel, I asked a man in a shop for some help finding one. He had to think for a while. When I said I was confused by the lack of ATMs in the North compared with the South, he snorted at me, then said, "This is New England" with a malicious look in his eyes. Thanks, dude.
I haven't done much today other than check out the library again, read, and write. And that's pretty much all there is to do. This is a village without much to find, and I cannot stress enough how hard it is to get around. Everything is expensive, too.
The town grocery store is really a glorified convenience store. I think I've seen nicer 7/11's. The store is filthy, and everything is smashed together and overpriced. I get the importance of having local businesses, but I'll take my Bi-Lo or Publix over this crap any day. At least there the vegetables aren't covered by flies, and you can actually find food to cook.
I would be very curious to learn the statistics on people with disabilities in this town. It's financial murder being here without a car, and I can't imagine how Lenox's citizens with epilepsy or any other issue that prevents them from driving can survive here. And forget getting around in a wheelchair. The handicapped entrances are hard to find and hidden, as though they want to hide people with disabilities. And getting from shop to shop can be fraught with difficulty.
I almost laughed today when the snooty man referred to this place as "Downtown Lenox." I think Irmo, South Carolina is more industrial; Lexington is a veritable metropolis by comparison. And you can definitely get around Irmo or Lexington without a car much, much more easily than Lenox, Massachusetts.
I'm a bit mad at myself for making plans to stay here so long. If anything, staying in Lenox has made me yearn to go home, which is probably a good thing.
Northampton was wonderful; I could live there. The people were friendly, the town was so easy to get around that I didn't even need the bus - although they have a bus if you need one. And Northampton is a very liberal, progressive town. Throughout it, at businesses, churches, and even places at Smith, there were rainbow flags welcoming LGBT people and signs with "Black Lives Matter" presented proudly. Yet, in Lenox, everything has the same stale look. It is a town built around privilege - in terms of class, ability, and race. It is an uncomfortable town. I felt at home in Northampton; I feel like an outcast here.
I guess one cool thing is I found the hill where the sledding accident that inspired Wharton to write Ethan Frome took place. At the top of the hill is an 18th century church called simply "The Church on the Hill."
I finally leave on Wednesday, which cannot come soon enough. I'm going to high-tail it out of here Wednesday morning and head for the airport, not once looking back. I will probably go see The Mount one more time, but I can't say I want to return here any time soon, if ever. Northampton, however, I will definitely return to.
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