http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/06/20/AR2008062002679_pf.html
Last winter, which in Vermont is serious business, a gang of local teens — and a few people a little older — got a bright idea. The Homer Noble Farm in Ripton, famous as the summer home of Robert Frost between 1938 and 1963, stood empty. It struck them as just the place for a party. Armed with lots of beer, the group made its way up the long, snow-packed road to the farmhouse and broke in. Over the course of a rowdy evening, they managed to inflict some $10,000 worth of damage. But it wasn’t until a hiker discovered the aftermath of the party that the law caught up with the revelers. All 28 were charged with trespassing.
Oops. Read on.
With these thoughts of Frost floating in my head, I got a call from the prosecutor in the case. His idea, which the judge embraced, was that part of the young invaders’ community service would involve discussing Frost’s poetry with me. If they studied with me for a period of time (to be determined by the judge and me), their criminal records in this case would be erased.
Would I, the court wondered, agree to such a thing?
It seems the college professor and author who wrote the article I’m referencing, Jay Parini, did. He taught the young offenders using two of Frost’s poems.
But in this case — in a stifling public building in Addison County, surrounded by anxious kids trying to wipe their records clean as they pored over my Xeroxed copies of the poetry — I felt that I had to work more simply, with the symbol itself: two roads, choices. “Life is about choices,” said one of the teens. Indeed, I said. I pointed out that the speaker in the poem was deep in the woods and that it was always difficult to figure out the right road when confronted with a forking path. They acknowledged having had many such experiences, quite literally, in the Vermont woods.
“You are now in deep woods,” I told them. They seemed confused. “If this isn’t a deep wood, I don’t know what is,” I added. Many of them lit up.
Hopefully, the young people in question will remember these lessons. After all, there is truth in Frost’s poetry. For millions of people, the road not taken has made all the difference.
-S
The Road Not Taken
Robert Frost, 1915
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.