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...

  As I sit in my “office”—a modest 10x12 she shed that, post-Covid, doubles as the inventory hub for MSI Press—I’m surrounded not by filing cabinets or ergonomic chairs, but by relics. Remnants. Reminders. Each one a whisper from a life lived across continents, cultures, and hemispheres. Hanging from the coatrack, where coats and sweaters ought to be, are artifacts that defy seasonal utility: A Christmas bell ornament adorned with camels from Jordan A painted hand fan from Korea A swath of fabric in Uzbekistan’s national colors A small woven purse from Turkmenistan A banner from Lithuania International University, where I once subbed for a professor on maternity sabbatical—a generous two-year leave that American mothers can only dream of Nearby sits a dilapidated Russian Mishka bear, its head precariously held by my own crude stitching. My daughter Echo, then 11 or 12, carried it everywhere during our shared days in the USSR. It’s more than a toy—it’s a talisman of a time and ...

  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 Fair               Every summer, the Acton Fair transformed our quiet Maine town into something electric. For a few days, the dusty roads led to carnival lights, livestock ribbons, and the unmistakable scent of fried dough. It was the social event of the year—part agricultural showcase, part family reunion, and part theater of the absurd.              The fairgrounds buzzed with energy. Farmers displayed their prized heifers, kids clutched cotton candy like currency, and all over the grounds unknown people appeared; those would be the folks from all over Maine who made the trek to Acton each year for its famous fair. The fair was pure Acton: 4-H, farmers, livestock, produce, homemade articles; local, proud, a...

  Precerpt (excerpt prior to publication from the forthcoming memoir,  In with the East: A Mary Poppins Kind of Life  by Dr. Betty Lou Leaver Fir Balsam If I had to name the scent of my childhood, other than lilac, it would be fir balsam. Not pine, not spruce—fir. The real thing. The one with flat, needled branches that broke off in a soft snap, leaving your fingers sticky with sap and your nose full of something that smelled like winter and warmth at the same time. Most people say balsam fir , but where I grew up, it was always fir balsam —likely a reflection of the Acadian French influence that shaped much of our local speech. At Christmas, all us kids would follow my father through the snow to the woods behind our house to cut down a fir balsam for our tree. He would pace through the trees with quiet authority, selecting just the right one—not too tall, not too spindly. We’d help drag it back to the house, and on the way, gather extra boughs for decorating. Some woul...