Digby Dent

Newport is unlike most American towns

Walking around the dreary streets of the city, I worry what we’ll leave behind us in this annus horribilis

As older brothers separated by half a generation go, he has been a good one

Like a star of the country & western stage, I write because my wife left me and took my dog

I’ve wintered here all my life and during that time Vermont has, like old Digby’s marital status, seen three permutations

Taking a doughy-handed son of privilege and making him clubbable doesn’t happen by magic