Trying To Help

PHOTO: Looks like tourists from flatlander states might not be welcomed with open arms by the local villagers this year!

by Brendan Smith
Weirs Times Editor

Sssshh!!
Don’t tell anyone.
If the word gets out, I could get arrested.
But I really don’t have much choice.
After all I am a Flatlander and I can’t forget my people.
I haven’t felt right since I had to turn away my old childhood friend when he drove up unexpectedly from New York to get away from the virus.
He showed up at my front door and with his family and I acted like a scaredy cat, just like so many other folks here in New Hampshire.
But I was only thinking about myself and completely forgot about my own roots and why I was here.
Moving here 35 years ago from New York I have made it my mission to help other Flatlander transplants like me to adjust to life here in Central New Hampshire. It has been my life’s work
Recently I have forgotten all about my purpose in life and I have become obsessed with this crazy virus thing. Walking around washing my hands all the time, trying not to touch my face, staying six feet away from folks and stocking up on toilet paper at busy supermarkets.
Of course, a big part of this obsession comes from watching the news all the time to find out what’s going on. Not much here in New Hampshire, but in places like New York and now Massachusetts things are a little crazy.
At first, I was on board with the whole panic thing. I saw the cars on the roads with out of state plates and I gave them the dirty looks like everyone else. “GO BACK FROM WHERE YOU CAME FROM” I would yell from the enclosed safe place of my car.
The other night it all came flooding back to me in a dream. I was one of them, trying to get to a safe place but was met by angry mobs at the border, surrounding my car and threatening my life. Bloodshot eyes and drooling mouths screaming “FLATLANDER GO HOME.”
I woke up in a cold sweat and it all came flooding back to me.
I remember only last year when these folks would be welcome here, bringing money with them and spending to help local businesses stay afloat throughout the year. But today, no one wants them (not until at least July anyway).
I needed to help these folks.
That’s my job.
It wasn’t their fault that the virus was bad where they were and wanted to escape. Any human would do the same.
The latest reopening plans are not helping. New restrictions on opening up the state have singled out Flatlanders specifically. Yes, the golf courses and campsites are open, but if you are not from here stay away is the message.
I know that my sympathy towards my fellow Flatlanders would not play well with the locals. Those who have accepted me as almost one of their own might now turn against me.
So how do I help?
I am asking you not to tell, but I have created a secret underground network, along with a few other long-time New Hampshire Flatlanders who I had to shake from their own fear stupor.
We have organized a series of stealth programs to help distressed Flatlanders living in hot spots to escape to New Hampshire without being detected. To help them assimilate with natives who, if they knew the truth, would most likely do more than just give them dirty looks at the supermarket and on the roads. Villagers carrying torches comes to mind.
For a small fee we will supply those Flatlanders who want to cross the border into New Hampshire safely with phony New Hampshire IDs, which they will need to show to prove they live here (except for voting, of course, that would be ridiculous).
With these IDs they will be able to safely golf, shop and even eat outside sitting six feet apart from others, without repercussion from local mobs.
We are also creating real looking New Hampshire license plates so that they can ride down the road in safety without having angry glares and the occasional finger directed towards them.
For those who don’t have a vehicle, we have arranged for late night pickups in an unmarked van to sneak them safely across the border.
We know we are taking a big risk if we are caught, but we can’t turn our backs on our fellow Flatlanders forever.
We are willing to take our chances.
So, if you are reading this, please don’t tell any of the natives, just contact me in private and I will help your friends get to safety (for a modest fee, of course).
Eventually this crazy virus thing will calm down and people from away will be welcomed back with open arms to spend their money here again, but for now we must do it this way.
I’m just asking you to keep it quiet.
BrendanTSmith.com