The former Prime Minister of Turkey, Ahmet Davutoglu, once said, “The Mid-East needs a success story.” And here in Vermont, that is precisely what we need in 2026.

Success is not that of any individual receiving a state/national award, or the placing of 1,000 acres of a mountainside into the Vermont Land Trust, or even a Vermont company announcing a major expansion.

The above is commendable. After years of attempting to find solutions for the homeless crisis, housing, healthcare, illegal drug addiction, and education, a success story has been so needed.

Vermonters could very well be suffering from trauma fatigue and loss of spirit emanating from decades of having to deal with one catastrophic event after another. This raises the question: do we have the stamina to deal with what the State is facing today? Do we believe that success in any area is just beyond our grasp?

The regularity of the traumatic events has been insidious over the past three decades. At the time, we did all we could to address the calamity, only to face another shortly thereafter.

In the winter of 1998, an ice storm devastated much of central and northern Vermont. The damage to utilities, trees, homes, and municipal and business properties was almost incalculable. A life-altering event occurred three years later on September 11th. and within two years, many Vermonters witnessed a family member engaged in war, either in Iraq or/and Afghanistan.

These events were soon followed in 2008 by what became known as the Great Recession, an international financial collapse from which, some conclude, Vermont has never fully recovered. Further trauma soon followed in late August 2011, Tropical Storm Irene.

It was not only natural disasters and world events that were life-impacting, but illegal drug usage was also prevalent throughout the State. Lives were being lost daily, and criminal activity centered on the drug trade was embedded. By 2014, it was out of control; hence, Governor Peter Shumlin devoted his entire ‘State of the State’ address to the crisis.

Other negative events were unfolding: a systemic decline in public school enrollment, spiraling health care costs, and the beginning of what would turn into a housing shortage for seniors, the workforce, and the less fortunate.

And still, the Vermont landscape was not immune to further trauma. In late 2019, a worldwide pandemic, COVID-19, consumed us for the next 24 months. Lives were lost, and livelihoods changed dramatically. Tens of thousands of Vermont students were confined to their homes with monumental negative impact, still being manifested today.

The Scott Administration dwelt with the pandemic daily as best it could. We thought we were finally free of disasters. But the breathing spell was fleeting.

In the summers of 2023 and 2024, central Vermont experienced unprecedented rainstorms that caused flood damage comparable to that in 1927.

And, of course, we must not ignore, especially in Vermont, the impact of Donald Trump’s two presidencies and the attention given to Climate Change, both all-consuming and distracting.

Several years ago, a colleague of mine took over leadership of the local food cupboard, which serves approximately 75 families each week. At the time, I asked him what his goals were. His response was, “in time, I wish to close the food cupboard because we will have eliminated its need.”

I found this statement very positive. Should it not be the goal of our Legislature and Administration to find, once and for all, the solutions to our State’s long-standing issues?

The administration and legislature should recognize that outsourcing to consultants, special study commissions, and NGO’s, along with billions of dollars spent, has only resulted in temporary fixes to the long-standing issues.

What might work is less partisanship and recognition that we all have had ownership for decades. It is time to fix our house.

There is only so much trauma Vermonters should have to endure; however, we will endure. What we, as a State, need most is a success story in 2026; this is within our control.

Gov. Josh Shapiro, D-Pa., said during an interview with CBS’ Norah O’Donnell on Sunday that former Vice President Kamala Harris’ vetting team wasn’t respectful with regard to his wife, in addition to the other questions he felt were offensive.

“You say in the book that you were advised, well, your wife’s going to have to get new clothes. She’s going to have to pay for hair and makeup. You’re going to have to move into the vice presidential, all this stuff. And it seemed like it kind of turned you off,” O’Donnell said.

O’Donnell spoke to Shapiro about his new book, “Where We Keep the Light,” which is set to be released Tuesday. In the book, Shapiro details the vetting process he went through with Harris.

“Look, there were a number of moments in that process where I was asked things or, in the case of what you just said, I thought folks weren’t particularly respectful to my wife, that left me really questioning whether this was something I wanted to do,” Shapiro responded.

TEVI TROY: SHAPIRO’S REVENGE ONCE AGAIN REVEALS KAMALA HARRIS’ INCOMPETENCE

O’Donnell pressed Shapiro about the process and said that he had written in the book that he felt the vetting process was unnecessarily contentious.

“I write both in the book about the vetting process and about the best way I could serve. As it relates to the vetting process, I thought some of the commentary about my wife was not okay. And I thought asking me if I was a double agent for the Israeli government, was offensive,” he said.

He wrote in the book that he was asked by former Biden aide Dana Remus if had ever been an “agent of the Israeli government” and

“I understand they had a job to do to ask me those questions. I think it went beyond just checking a box on a questionnaire,” he told O’Donnell.

RACHEL MADDOW REGRETS NOT PRESSING KAMALA HARRIS MORE DURING INTERVIEW ABOUT ‘107 DAYS’ MEMOIR

O’Donnell also asked him why he thought he was being asked that question, to which he said he didn’t know.

“I don’t want to sit here and ascribe beliefs to others. I can tell you that it landed on me in an offensive way. I have dedicated my entire adult life to serving this country, serving this country in different elected capacities, different volunteer capacities. I love this country. And for someone to question that, for someone to question my loyalty, particularly as someone who is as open about his faith as he is, was offensive to me,” he said.

Shapiro said he understood that the people questioning him were just doing their job. 

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He also explained that when he attempted to talk to Harris about wanting to withdraw himself from consideration, her staff didn’t allow it. 

He also said he didn’t know if Harris knew if he was asked these questions, particularly about being an agent for Israel.  

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Harris’ office did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

Opportunity drew me to Boston in 1977. I took a job at an architectural firm in the North End and moved to an apartment in Inman Square in Cambridge. It was such a great place to live — Legal Sea Foods, Ryles, the Inn-Square Men’s Bar, and the S&S Deli were all within a block of my front door. But there was one big problem: I didn’t know a soul in the area and really wanted to make friends outside of work.

Could spending some time at local watering holes be the answer? I decided to take my chances.

One evening I was perched on a barstool at the newly opened Springfield Street Saloon across the street. It was pretty much empty except for another guy sitting several stools away staring at the TV. Both of us were groaning in pain at some pathetic play by the Red Sox and started to chat from a distance. I slid over and introduced myself — or it could have been the other way around, I don’t remember. But most importantly, I met Jeff.

The next night we were both there again. And the next. We became good friends over the course of the summer and best friends not long after that. Jeff was the avid sportsman that I could never become. He took me tuna fishing off Gloucester, and to a sportsman’s club for lessons in marksmanship.

He was a classic extrovert and optimist who was working as a fledgling music promoter. I was a classic introvert hopelessly tied to a desk, quietly sketching designs. But somehow our sense of humor, outlook on life, and respect for each other cemented our friendship. I never expected to meet someone in such a random way and become such close friends. I joined him at Sox games, Pats games — we even went to the Police and J. Geils concerts at the Garden with backstage passes.

The Blizzard of 1978 didn’t put a damper on the fun at Jeff’s apartment. The weeklong Blizzard Party at his place could not be rivaled. He called me one night at 4 a.m., asking if I had any aspirin because Sting, lead singer of the Police, was at his apartment with a headache!

Jeff even found me a new apartment in his building near Harvard Square. He never wanted anything in return, just my company. And I was always there for him.

Over the years, our lives changed quite a bit. We both moved to different towns with our fiancées. Jeff came to my wedding, and after my daughters were born, he became a favorite of theirs as they grew up. He joked with my wife that she could have done much better than me.

From that chance barstool meeting, I talked with my best friend almost every day for over 40 years. Whenever our wives heard us howling on the phone, they knew immediately who was on the line.

A few years ago, Jeff fell ill, and was in the hospital. I sensed this was quite serious and went to visit him against his wishes. He didn’t want me to see him in his declining condition. “Do you remember when . . . ?” was the topic that day. I had to tone down my usual rants, because it hurt him so much when he laughed.

Later, I said goodbye and left the room. As I turned down the corridor, I heard Jeff call out, “I love you, man.” I was going to turn around and go back into the room but didn’t want him to see me crying. That seemed pretty dumb then, and still does. A few weeks later, I got a call from his wife, Joanne, telling me he had passed away.

Five years later, Jeff is still on my speed dial, and I cannot tell you the number of times I have almost called him for his take on the day’s events. Because you just never know.

Mark Bernstein is a writer in Newton Centre. Send comments to magazine@globe.com.

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