The World According to Gillespie

FARM, FAMILY, AND HOSPITALITY IN VERMONT          This column originally appeared on Wicked Local   and Vermont's Rochester Herald . My wife and I traveled up to Vermont from Boston for our second stay at the Liberty Hill Farm, a working dairy farm that is also an inn.   The farm is owned by Bob and Beth Kennett and has been operating in Rochester for more than a century.   Liberty Hill celebrates “farm, family, and hospitality” with a minimal number of employees contributing a maximum amount of work, although everything that takes place at the Liberty Hill Farm seems to be slow moving and relaxed.   According to a bumper sticker central to the area, “What happens in Vermont Stays in Vermont.   But nothing really happens here.”   That is, except for the flat tire that we suffered on the ride up.   I had little concern.   I figured we were going to the right place.   If a farm couldn’t fix this problem, no one could, so we slowly continued up Route 100 with

CHANNELING IN ON TELEVISION  This column originally appeared on Wicked Local. Like millions of couples in the United States, my wife and I settle down on the couch several times each week and think about what we are going to watch on television.   Once upon a time, there was a much simpler solution.   There were essentially three channels to choose from and a regimented system of shows on either NBC, ABC, or CBS.   On any given night you could watch a show that aired once a week like Happy Days , M*A*S*H , or All in the Family .   You might catch a variety show like Real People , or have the (debatable) great fortune of seeing the original Battle of the Network Stars , significantly more entertaining than the revamped version that recently aired due to the fact that there were actual networks.   On weekends, you had the opportunity to watch Fantasy Island , Wide World of Sports , or be forced to watch 60 Minutes every Sunday night of your childhood with your so

TWO OLD FRIENDS ON THE BACK 9   This column originally appeared on Wicked Local . I have done something this summer that I never thought I would do.  I have taken up golf. Both approaching the age of 50, my old friend Pete and I decided that we should spend some quality time golfing, if for no other reason than it seems to be age-appropriate and Pete said he wanted to do something that would require him to wear a funny hat.    He had recently golfed in Florida and encountered alligators on the course, aptly setting forth the challenge that golf is “the only sport where you are in danger of being eaten.”   I suggested that he stop practicing so that we could begin golfing on equal terms.    Pete reassured me, “There is no danger of me getting good,” claiming the majority of his golf experience consisted of watching Caddyshack . My own experience golfing has been minimal.   Aside from occasional outings to Buncey’s Par 3 in West Bridgewater and the old Putt Putt Golf Course