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 Animals of Acton: Sanctuary, Scavengers, and Sentiment Acton had its share of animals—some wild, some domesticated, all woven into the rhythm of our lives. The deer were the most majestic, but in a humbler way than the moose. During hunting season, they’d gather in our swale, grand creatures with 8-point racks among them. Somehow, they knew our land was safe. It was posted  No Hunting , and so was my uncle’s. But that didn’t stop the out-of-town fools from skulking in the woods and firing into the fields. One year, one of them shot my uncle’s prize Guernsey cow—brown, unmistakably not a deer. My uncle caught the man trying to make off with the carcass, certain that he had just bagged a deer, and grabbed him by the ear. And then the captive had to listen to a tongue-lashing! We paid a price for being a deer sanctuary. The deer...

  Precerpt (excerpt prior to publication from the forthcoming memoir,  In with the East: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life  by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver Acton: The Biting Season Acton summers weren’t blistering, but they were sticky—humid enough that your shirt clung to your back before breakfast. The air felt close, like it was pressing in, and the flies thrived in it. Black flies and deer flies didn’t just bite—they hunted. Our cows and steer wore them like living blankets, and we, the kids, were next in line. Milking and yoking became tactical maneuvers: one hand on the task, the other swatting at whatever had just landed behind your ear. The flies didn’t discriminate. They flew from cowhide to kid skin, drawn by sweat and movement. We learned to move fast and swat energetically. Still, they found the soft spots—wrists, necks, ankles. By midday, we were welted and itchy, pin-cushioned by persistence. Evenings brought a different ritual. The kitchen ceiling became a fly hostel, sp...

  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...