Reflections on the First Week of Spring – “My Idea of Good Company”

    This week I reveled in good company, “the company of clever, well-informed people, who havegreat deal of conversation.” (Jane Austen, Persuasion) 

    Kelly, a member of the Meadville Vicinity Pennwriters group, sparked Tuesday’s “great deal of conversation” with her suggestion, “We should go to a movie together then talk about it.” After a little organizing of the writers, I sat in a row with Catherine, Maggie, and Kelly while Beauty and the Beast played on a wide movie theater screen. Surrounded by fragrance of buttered popcorn, I tapped my foot, chuckled, and wiped tears with my handkerchief.

    Afterwards, sitting around a circular table at Kings Family Restaurant, we critiqued the story structure.

    “Premise driven. Everything hinges on breaking the spell.”

    “This version didn’t have enough interaction between Belle and the Beast. It doesn’t justify the change at the end.”

    “Too bad the movie reinforces the expectations that women should tolerate men who act like beasts and that women can change men.”

    After an hour of movie discussion, Kelly said, “Does anyone want to go to Hippie Chick with me? I’m going to check if any of the clothes I put on consignment sold.”

    Sated physically on cod broiled in orange juice and mentally by the conversation, I told Kelly, “I’ve got to get home.’

    I started my car, drove from my parking space to the edge of five lane Conneaut Lake Road, and switched on my left turn signal. Cars and pickups streamed from the right for what seemed like five minutes but was probably only one. That cleared, and a sea of vehicles, including two semi-trailer trucks and a motorcycle, passed from the left. When the second flow finished, traffic streamed from the right again. Sighing, I flipped the turn signal to the right and followed Kelly’s car.

    When I got out of my car, Kelly stood by the back bumper. “You couldn’t turn left so you followed me?”

    We laughed, plunged into the racks of consignment clothes, and continued the conversation.

    “The blend of colors makes this fabric attractive.”

    “Are butterfly sleeves comfortable to wear?”

    With a butterfly sleeve blouse, the style Kelly often wears, and a new pair of black jeans, I turned out of the shopping area at a traffic light and drove on country roads past leafless trees and flowerless yards.

    Saturday, so that I could join a different set of “clever, well-informed people,” Spence drove me to Pittsburgh. We passed towering skyscrapers and crisscrossed layers of arcing bridges that looked like they’d been designed by Madame De La Grande Bouche, the Beauty and the Beast wardrobe character that threw streams of fabric into the air.

    While Spence wrote articles in the lobby of The Twentieth Century Club and talked with the coat check woman about community organizing, I attended Pittsburgh’s 2017 Jane Austen Festival upstairs.

    I sat in the second row for lectures.

    “In the nineteenth century, reviewers focused on humorous, foible-ridden secondary characters unlike today’s movie emphasis on the romance between main characters,” a professor said.

    “We can enjoy both,” the Janeite audience shouted in response.

    Another lecturer prefaced her talk on Jane Austen portraits by saying, “There is as much controversy over the validity of these portraits as there is over Fanny Price [the main character of Mansfield Park] in the Pittsburgh Jane Austen region.”

    The audience laughed.

    At lunch, I sat by my friend Jennifer, owner of Jane Austen Books and regional coordinator for the Ohio North Coast Jane Austen group.

    With a forkful of salmon mid way to her mouth, Jennifer addressed the young Janeties across the table from us. “Are you talking about Fanny?”

    “Yes. I don’t like Fanny because she lets people control her,” the woman on the left said. “She’s not assertive enough to be a heroine.”

    Joining the Pittsburgh controversy, Jennifer said, “There are similarities between Fanny and Emma (main character of Emma and character who acts however she pleases). Jane explores similar facets of maturing women in them.” Jennifer ate the salmon and turned to me. “What do you think about Fanny, Janet”

    Jennifer knew full well what I’d say. “I like Fanny. She accepts her role as the poor relation but quietly supports others and keeps peace in the family.”

    After lunch, I sat in a circle of women learning to sew pansies out of ribbons. In dim light and without tables, we balanced ribbons, pins, thread, needles, and instructions on our laps. Materials slipped to the floor. I dropped the pink and maroon ribbons, the directions, then a safety pin.

    “My needle did a header,” the woman to my right said bending over and stroking the off-white carpet with her fingers. “I can’t see to find it.”

    The instructor stooped to recover the needle then threaded it and many other needles for women with aging eyes.

    Squinting and making several passes, I managed to slip the purple thread through the eye.

    We basted and gathered the ribbons, mashed then into shape, then cobbled the petals and a yellow velvet center onto stiff backing.

    “Would Jane have decorated clothes with flowers like these?”

    “Not this pattern, but yes, women at that time embellished their dresses with cloth flowers.”

    Exhausted from the festival, I was thankful Spence had accompanied me to the event. While he drove me home, I enjoyed a “great deal of conversation” with my “clever well-informed” husband.