Where I work

I thought I might share this with you.

This is a picture of the church where I now work:

This is a picture of the church where I used to work:

New England churches look a lot alike!

(FYI: I was not the one who laid on her belly to take the first picture)

I'm just a country mouse

This is the post in which I expose how much of a country bumpkin I have become.

I live in a very small (population 2600) very rural town. We have a small general store (about the size of your living room), but to do real grocery shopping I drive about 8 miles in any direction, to one of larger towns bordering our town. And while they are decent grocery stores, they're still rather on the small side.

WELL. I visited a friend who lives in "The Third Largest City in Massachusetts", and she and I went to the grocery store.

O.MY.GOD. I think it was bigger than the elementary school in our town! I had just done my own grocery shopping the day before, but I grabbed a cart and roamed the aisles with the intensity of a sailor on shore leave.

They had gizmos and doodads and giant economy-sized flimflams. I was amazed. I was awed. I was starstruck.

I ended up spending another $100 on groceries.

Democracy in Action

Did you know that Massachusetts is one of four states in the U.S. officially designated as a Commonwealth? (Kentucky, Virginia and Pennsylvania are the other three).This means that they have a "government based on the common consent of the people" as opposed to Royal Colony status from Great Britain. Massachusetts is one of the original 13 colonies; we take our independence very seriously. Our town doesn't have a Mayor - we're governed by Town Meeting.

A New England Town Meeting is Democracy in Action. An average citizen can come to town meeting, voice their opinion, persuade their neighbors and fellow taxpayers one direction or another, and vote on issues that concern their community. One person can mean the difference between an article passing or failing.

Our Annual Town Meeting was this week. I've attended hit or miss in the past, but now that I'm involved in town government it's important to attend. There were more than 50 warrant articles to be voted on. My committee had a warrant on the agenda; it was pretty much a no-brainer, and it passed without any problem.

It went pretty quickly for Annual Meeting too. All articles were decided in one night, and the meeting ended about 11pm. Some years the meeting has to be extended to the next night to finish it all up.

Next week certain articles that were approved at Town Meeting have a requirement of show up on a ballot; also on the ballot are individuals running for election (or re-election) to town positions.

Though it may be boring to read about (sorry!) it's kind of an amazing process to be involved in; especially to me, transplanted from a part of the country where this is not the norm. I'm more involved than I have ever been in politics or government.

Thus endeth the Social Studies lesson for today.

Wordless Wednesday: Belted Galloways

Taken at a local farm here in Massachusetts.

"Belted Galloway" Cows, aka Oreo Cookie Cows

Life in a small New England town, Chapter 3

With only the town and street names changed, this is my small town's police log as printed in the local paper:


Wednesday, March 26
6:41 a.m.: motor vehicle went off the road through a split rail fence.
4:02 p.m.: keys found; were brought to the station.
7 p.m.: license plate found on the side of the road was turned in to the station.
7:15 p.m.: resident reported a lost cat.


Friday, March 28
6:14 a.m.: ambulance needed, patient was taken to the hospital.
5:20 p.m.: assisted neighboring town's Police Department with a motor vehicle accident.


Saturday, March 29
11:07 a.m.: motor vehicle accident with injury.
4:14 p.m.: ambulance needed, patient was taken to the hospital.


Sunday, March 30
12:41 a.m.: resident reported a lost dog.
5:35 a.m.: ambulance needed, patient was taken to the hospital.


Monday, March 31
7 a.m.: report of a structure fire. (turned out to be a chicken coop)
7:28 p.m.: motor vehicle accident with injury.


Does this sound like Mayberry or WHAT!?

All kidding aside, I feel so lucky to be able to raise my daughter in such a safe place.

Life in a small New England town, Chapter 2

A story told at last night's Maundy Thursday church supper...

A previous pastor conducted the funeral service for an elderly woman. In his eulogy of this woman, a town resident of 90 years, he mentioned that she had arrived in town at the age of six months, when her parents moved here. She lived her entire life in this small town.

After the service, the minister overheard two elderly local women talking about the service. One said to the other, "I didn't know Margaret was from 'away'."

In New England, you need at least two generations in the local cemetery before you are considered "local".

Stick a fork in me, I'm done

I'm the church secretary at one of the two churches in my very small, very quaint, very charming New England town. I enjoy it very much. With the exception of two times a year.

Advent and Lent.

Of course these are the BIGGIES in a church year. Christmas and Easter, we see folks in church that we never see the rest of the year (unless they need a wedding or a funeral...but that's a post for another day). During these special times of year, the church is usually decorated in a special way; there are extra worship services; attendance is up; there are special gatherings or meals. It's a very active and coming-togther time for a church. It's beautiful and awe-inpiring.

Unless you're the church secretary. In a small church, in a small town.

"Pay no attention to the secretary behind the curtain!"

(Or the Minister. But she can get her own blog. "Hi Boss!")

This week especially, when everything is really happening at once, I start wondering if my suit came back from the cleaners....

And I start to hope that I can get everything done in a timely manner before I am forced to don my OTHER suit...

I would be the one on the left...

Life in a small New England town, Chapter 1

Things I love about living in a small town in New England:

You know almost everybody in town, including their kids and pets.

You know who has had surgery or is laid up, and a casserole brigade is started.

The police call log has listings like “Horses wandering in road” and “Sheep loose”…and the worst vandalism in many years is “Shampoo dropped in library book return”.

The high school doesn’t even have locks on the student lockers, and there is no theft.

Having one (ONE!) homeless person, his name is Charley, and he does not want your help, thank you. (He has assistance already lined up but chooses to live a hobo’s life)


Things I do NOT love about living in a small town in New England:

Everybody in town knows every member of your family, including eccentric Uncle Jack who left town to join the circus.

In the first month of moving to town, buying a cookie jar at a multi-family yard sale, you don’t know any of the families... and three days later being approached by someone not even AT the yard sale, asking if you would like the original box for that cookie jar, because they still have it in their attic. (I don’t know – is this a good thing or a bad thing? I guess it depends on how badly you want the box. At the time, being new to town, it made me feel a little like I was being stalked...)

You can never flip anybody off in traffic (traffic - hah!) because SOMEBODY knows who you are (especially if you are a secretary at one of the only two churches in town)

Being pulled over for speeding by one of the three patrol cars…and getting a stern warning from the Officer…who is also the middle-aged son of your knitting instructor (embarrassing!) (are you sensing a trend here?)

Saturday in-town errands must be completed by NOON because everything closes at noon – this means a trip to the general store, the lumberyard/hardware store, the transfer station (dump), the library-the-size-of-my-bedroom, and the post office. (By the way, our new post office has TWO windows at the counter! TWO! ! Count 'em!)

Even though each of these stops is within a mile and a half of each other, each stop takes a half an hour minimum because you keep seeing people you know and have to stop to chat. (This could go either way, depending on how much of a hurry you are in.)

Thanks to Verizon, when I call my next door neighbor I must dial 10 digits. (used to only have to dial four...."Hello Sara? It's Aunt Bea! Get me Andy down at the sheriff's office!")

And the biggest thing I don't like...snow, snow, SNOW! WAY too much winter!!!!

(OH, and being forced to use lots of italics and parenthesis when typing. It's in the town by-laws.)