MSI Press Blog

  Precerpt (excerpt prior to publication from the forthcoming memoir,  In with the East: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life  by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver Community Life in Acton              Acton wasn’t just a town—it was a woven tapestry of neighbors, stories, and shared memory. Everybody knew everybody, and yes, everybody’s business too. Not out of nosiness exactly, though there was a touch of that. It was more about staying connected, about knowing what was going on so you could lend a hand if needed—or at least have something to talk about the next time you ran into someone in Milton Mills (the location of the closest store, gas station, and post office, Acton having none of those).              One of the easiest ways to stay in the loop was the party line. I don’t recall when Acton finally switched to private lines, but next-door Lebanon still had party l...

Precerpt (excerpt prior to publication from the forthcoming memoir,  In with the East: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life  by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver Talking Mainiac Beyond just the Acadian influence, as in the use of fir balsam to refer to balsam fir trees, the Maine dialect can be difficult to understand for people “from away” (outsiders). Once I left Maine and started living and working in other parts of the USA, it took years and even some speech therapy, before I could blend in ways that did not mark me like the time I was helping out with collecting demographic information in Florida and had difficulty communicating with one of the residents. “Where do you come from?” he asked. “I am American,” I responded. “So am I,” he said, “but I did not just get off the boat.” My clarification that I grew up in Maine did nothing to dissuade him from his conviction that I really was a foreigner and had no business asking him any questions. The Maine dialect can sound like a different...

  Note to the Reader I grew up barefoot and suntanned on a farm in rural Acton, Maine. Now, basking in the sunshine of San Juan Bautista, California, 3,000 miles from those roots and 75 years beyond my time in New England, I find no singular thread defining my life. No grand design guided my path—only the constant pull of urgent voices asking, Can you come help us? And so, I went. I packed my bags, boarded planes, crossed borders, and stepped into roles I had never planned but never hesitated to fill. Unlike those who chase opportunity, I responded to it. I taught teachers in Brazil, rescued a dying child in Siberia, brokered school exchanges between Minsk (Belarus) and Portland (Oregon, USA), trained astronauts and cosmonauts in Houston (USA) and in Star City (Russia). I set up university translation programs in Moldova, guided Turkmen diplomats, advised Uzbekistan’s Ministry of Social Justice. Each place offered a distinct challenge, and I shaped myself around its needs, learn...