Precerpt from In with the East Wind: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life - Town Meeting

 


Precerpt (excerpt prior to publication from the forthcoming memoir, In with the East: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver

Town Meeting

             No description of Acton would be complete without a regalement of the annual town meeting. In Acton, governance wasn’t just a matter of policy—it’s a living tradition. While many towns across America have adopted city councils, charters, and professional administrators. Acton has held fast to a form of government that dates back to colonial New England: the Town Meeting–Selectmen model.

             This isn’t just a quaint relic. It’s a deliberate choice rooted in scale, history, and civic philosophy.

         Acton was incorporated in 1830, carved from the western portion of Shapleigh. From the beginning, it embraced the town meeting format—a system where residents gather annually to vote directly on budgets, ordinances, and community priorities. No intermediaries. No distant bureaucracy. Just neighbors hashing it out in real time.

The Board of Selectmen (we had three), elected by the town’s citizens, carry out the decisions made at town meeting, oversee municipal operations, and act as stewards of the town’s day-to-day affairs. Unlike a town council, which legislates continuously throughout the year, selectmen are bound to the will of the town meeting. It’s democracy in its rawest, most participatory form. The town meeting model reflects its rural character, its emphasis on autonomy, and its belief that governance should be a shared responsibility—not a delegated one.

             Of course, anyone who’s ever attended an Acton town meeting knows it’s not all Norman Rockwell and Robert’s Rules. These gatherings could be raucous, emotional, and occasionally hilarious. Budget debates turned into theatrical showdowns. More than once, a motion was passed with a mix of stubborn conviction and Yankee charm.

             Every April, Acton’s town meeting rolls around like mud season—inevitable, messy, and deeply rooted in tradition. It’s not just a civic obligation; it’s a cultural event. The entire town gathers in the local hall. Forget decorum. Think, instead, theatrical showdowns and motions passed with a mix of stubborn Yankee conviction. These meetings were often raucous, combative, and unapologetically personal. And if you were a newcomer—well, buckle up.

             One year, when we were really newcomers (not just the honorary status that lasts for 20 years until your grandchildren are born in town), Ma stood up and raised hell. Her complaint was simple: the kids hadn’t received their schoolbooks for the first quarter of the year. Someone had dropped the ball, and she wasn’t about to let it slide.

             A swaggering farmer—most Actonites were farmers—dismissed her concern with a wave and a scoff. “They got their books,” he said.

             Ma shot back: “They got them for Christmas presents!”

             He shrugged. “So, why does that matter?”

             Ma, incredulous: “For education! So, they can learn!”

             His reply was pure Acton: “Doesn’t take education to slop hogs.”

             Ma didn’t back down. But the farmer turned to the crowd and delivered the punchline: “Newcomers! Next thing she’s gonna want is a g-d flush toilet!” The room erupted in laughter.

             That moment—equal parts absurd and revealing—captured the essence of Acton’s town meetings. They weren’t just about budgets and bylaws. They were about identity, power, and who gets to speak for the town. The tension between old-timers and newcomers, between tradition and progress, played out in real time, with no filter and no referee.

             And yet, despite the brawls and the barbs, these meetings mattered. They were where decisions got made, where grievances were aired, and where the town’s character was forged—one shouting match at a time.

             From the vantage point of decades and continents later, I see now how Acton trained me for a life I didn’t yet imagine. It seared the concept of democracy into every fiber of my being, and it taught me the definition of “neighbor” as one who helps.

             As a leader in several organizations, I brought those concepts of democracy to the workplace, often surprising employees with the amount of “input” they were allowed, including some raucous meetings. I introduced servant leadership and reverse evaluations (a kind of town meeting in that representatives from every division got together annually and “hashed” it out with management in setting objectives for the next year). Employees in my organizations loved it, felt empowered, started owning the jointly set objectives. Middle managers who worked for me typically rejected my approach; raw democracy scared the wits out of them.

             I also brought the concept of “neighbor” to my life—and my neighbors lived all over the world. In Acton, one lived by answering when help was needed, like the year my father’s hip was crushed by our tractor and, with no previous communication, half the town showed up in our fields to do the haying because one must “make hay while the sun shines”—and that is, for sure, a fact. Thus, Acton was the start of my Mary Poppins life.

             I left Acton for college after high school. It was not typical in Acton for high school graduates to attend college; it was not even uncommon to end one’s education with the eight grade since Acton had no high school, and Wells High, Sanford High, and Spaulding (Rochester, NH) High had to be begged—and paid—to take Acton students. But, after all, we were the newcomers.

             Yet, though I left Acton, it did not feel like Acton left me. No, Acton felt like a place you carry.


Book Description:

From the barefoot freedom of rural Maine to the diplomatic halls of Central Asia, from rescuing a dying child in Siberia to training astronauts in Houston and Star City, In with the East Wind traces an extraordinary life lived in service, not strategy.

Unlike those who chase opportunity, the author responded to it—boarding planes, crossing borders, and stepping into urgent roles she never sought but never declined. Over 75 years and 26 countries, she worked as a teacher, soldier, linguist, professor, diplomat, and cultural ambassador. Whether guiding Turkmen diplomats, mentoring Russian scholars, or founding academic programs in unlikely places, her journey unfolded through a steady stream of voices asking: Can you come help us?

Told through an alphabetical journey across places that shaped her—from Acton, Maine to Uzbekistan—this memoir is rich with insight, adventure, and deep humanity. At its heart lies the quiet power of answering the call to serve, wherever it may lead.

Like Mary Poppins, she drifted in with the East Wind—bringing what was needed, staying just long enough, and leaving behind transformation. Then she returned home, until the next wind called.



 From the forthcoming book:

In with the East Wind...A Mary Poppins Kind of Life
Volume 1: ABC Lands

by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver

For more posts about this book, click HERE.

For more posts by and about Betty Lou Leaver, click HERE.


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