The selectmen conduct an open forum at the beginning of their meetings during which residents may ask questions or make announcements, but the board makes no provision for questions during their meetings or after. Hardly anyone attends selectmen’s meetings, me included, because if questions need to be asked, you have to chase the selectmen like paparazzi after rock stars.

In the past, selectmen’s meetings were the best entertainment around, and given the cost of dinner and a movie these days, Tuesdays could become exciting nights out yet again.

Decades ago, when I covered the selectmen as a young reporter I was enthralled by the give and take that occurred during board meetings. There were regulars like the late John Hamilton, the wealthiest man in town, whose encyclopedic knowledge of local land made him an unofficial adviser to the board. There was also another gentleman, a widower, who was so overcome with grief following the death of his beloved wife, that he’d convinced himself one of the selectmen was responsible for her death. Week after week he showed up to accuse the then chairman of killing his wife. Sometimes he became completely irrational and the board had to threaten him with bodily eviction, but mostly the selectmen allowed him his say. It was quite sad, but the board knew his history and was gracious.

One time my dog got loose, followed me to the meeting, and jumped up on the shoulders of a man who couldn’t speak because he’d had throat surgery. No one knew he was terrified of dogs. Only his eyes told the story.

Jim Farrell and I were reminiscing the other day about the late George Cushman. They called him "Mr. Kingston." He was the town clerk for so long that I have no idea who his predecessor was. It was getting to be the season for town meeting and Mr. Cushman appeared before the selectmen to ask how many people they thought would attend because Midge needed to know how many chickens to kill for the Girl Scout fundraiser. The Girl Scouts sold chicken salad sandwiches at town meetings. It was at that moment I fell in love with New England.

In those times, I was just a few years removed from my native New Jersey where politics is a more simple matter. You want a permit, you pay the official in charge. You need your license reinstated, you make a local contact who makes a state contact and you pay your all- inclusive bribe. The state person took care of the local guy’s finder’s fee. No engineering plans, no tedious meetings. These were the civics lessons I learned at my grandparents’ feet. There is no ‘quaint’ in New Jersey government, but there sure is here and it should be cherished and preserved.

Too many people say we should run the town like a business. And what business model should we use-the ugly, impersonal one that toppled Wall Street? A town is a collection of people who choose to live together, who decide the future of the community with their votes, who contribute to the community with their individual skills.

Being a selectman is not an easy job. It’s a gift of time and study to all of us, and I am not suggesting the board should be unduly put upon, but I do respectfully suggest that the board make some allowance for questions should residents care enough to show up and ask them.