Reflections on the First Week of Fall – A Basketful of Books

 

A Basketful of Books

If I could have hugged myself last Tuesday morning, I would have. But my hands gripped the steering wheel, and I hurtled west on Route 87. Browning corn fields edged the road, and a crystal blue sky stretched overhead. My friend Jennifer, owner of Jane Austen Books, had mentioned she could use help packing books and merchandise for her trip to the 2019 JASNA AGM (Jane Austen Society of North America Annual General Meeting) in Williamsburg, Virginia. A chance to see my friend and a chance to be surrounded by books⏤reasons for a double hug.

The first time books had surrounded me was the result of hanging with another friend, Barbara Carey. Then skinny ninth graders, we rode home from school with Barb’s mother one day. She made an out-of-the-way stop at the Mount Lebanon Public Library. We walked through the garage of the fire department, climbed a spiral staircase, and entered a musty room crowded with stacks of books.

Barb’s mother leaned over the front desk and glared at the librarian. “When will you hire my daughter?”

The librarian stuffed a card into the pocket in the back of a book, set the book on a cart, and pushed her chair back six inches. “We aren’t hiring any pages until we move to the new building.”

Barb’s mother shook her finger at the librarian. “Can’t she at least fill out the application?”

The librarian pulled two forms out of a drawer, handed one to Barb, and offered the other to me. “Would you like to apply for the job too?”

Barb nudged me with her elbow. “Sure she would.”

Two months later, I got the library job. Barb didn’t.

As we walked through the halls between classes, Barb shifted the school books in her arms. “Don’t worry about it. I knew I wouldn’t get the job. Mom’s too pushy.”

Throughout high school, I maneuvered loaded carts through library stacks, shelved most of the books, and set aside ones with intriguing titles to take home.

Giggling at the memory, I depressed the accelerator and visualized leaving Jennifer’s book store with a higher stack of books than I’d carried home from the library.

After a welcoming cup of herbal tea in Jennifer’s kitchen, an orientation on how her book store runs at Jane Austen gatherings, and a lesson on packing boxes⏤not too heavy, not too big, and stuff paper into all the empty spaces⏤Jennifer gave me my first task.

In the entrance hall of her house, grand enough for a Jane Austen movie, she pulled a paperback out of a cardboard box. “This one’s damaged. They didn’t stuff paper in the empty space.” She opened and closed the cover with a two centimeter crease in the bottom right corner. “Check to make sure no other books are damaged and count to make sure they sent eighty-eight.” Jennifer set the damaged book aside and disappeared downstairs to the store in her spacious basement.

Would Jennifer really send the book back for that tiny crease? Yikes. Taking the books out of the box as if they were fragile robin eggs, I counted eighty-seven more paperbacks by Devoney Looser, a professor who plays roller derby under the name of Stone Cold Jane Austen. All had smooth, flat covers. I nested the paperbacks in the box and hustled to the bookstore.

Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs, I inhaled the fragrance of vanilla, no doubt from a candle Jennifer had burned, and walked past rows of bookcases that towered over my head. In the back outside her office, Jennifer stacked books on two long tables. “I’ve transferred the records of these books to the Williamsburg account. They’re ready to pack.” She grabbed a folded box leaning against a counter behind the tables, taped the bottom shut, and stacked books inside. “You’ll have to choose which shape box fits the books.” After stuffing paper, Jennifer closed the top flaps, and ran the mailing tape dispenser up one side, across the top, and down the other side. Zip, zip, zip. She grabbed a marker and yellow tablet paper to write a label.

2019 AGM

about Jane

She wielded the tape dispenser again and, zi-i-i-i-ip, taped the label to the side of the box.

Setting the box on a hand truck in the hall by the back door, Jennifer brushed her hands against her shorts and peered at me over her glasses. “Are you comfortable with that?”

“Yes, but I’ll ask if I have questions.”

Heading to her office she looked over her shoulder and flashed me a knowing grin.

When didn’t I have questions?

After folding the bottom flaps of a box, I grabbed the tape dispenser, pushed the end of the tape against the cardboard, and yanked one-handed like Jennifer had. No zip. No tape. I yanked three more times in vain. “Jennifer, how did you get the tape out?”

She hustled back and reached for the dispenser. “Sometimes it gets stuck.” She yanked the tape then taped the bottom of the box. “There.” Jennifer returned to her office.

Selecting the largest books first, I packed multiple copies including those of Tea with Jane Austen, Austen Country, Jane Austen and Her Times. Though I couldn’t fit another book, air pockets gaped in the box.

Luckily, Jennifer passed me on the way to the stacks.

“Is it okay to fill the rest of this box with paper?”

She slowed to check. “No. The books will shift too much. Try a different shape box.” She leaned over the stacked boxes and handed me one.

This time the tape came out of the dispenser but twisted, stuck to itself, and formed a wonky bow tie. I reached for the scissors across the table and shouted, “May I use your scissors to cut the tape?”

“Fine” came Jennifer’s voice from across the basement.

I cut the tape and tried again. Another sticky bow tie. Sheesh. Forget the dispenser. I pulled tape loose, cut it, and taped the bottom of the box. The books fit inside with only half inch cracks. I stuffed crumpled paper, closed the box, and attached my first hand-written label.

When I carried the box to the hand truck, Jennifer passed me with an armload of books. “Everything all right?”

“Yep,” I answered as if no one could have a question about packing.

Five boxes later, I’d packed all the books on the table. I walked into office where Jennifer, perched on a rolling chair, stared at her computer.

I stared at tree trunks outside the window above the computer. “I’m ready for more.”

“Oh, sorry. I got busy with an order that has to go out today.” She jumped. The chair rolled away from the desk, and she raced to the shelves.

“No need to apologize,” I shouted after her. “I’ll browse awhile.” With steps as reverent as if I walked past Jane Austen’s grave in Winchester Cathedral, I moved into the stacks, gazed at books, and opened ones with intriguing titles.

By the time Jennifer called, “I’ve got some ready,” I had selected three books. I put them on an empty shelf at the end of a stack in the middle of the store and headed back to the boxing table.

Book by book.

Box by box.

Label by label.

When the tape ran out, Jennifer handed me a new roll. I threaded the dispenser, flicked it, and zip, zip, zip, fastened the flaps of the box. Aha. An old lady could learn new tricks.

For the rest of Tuesday and Wednesday, I happily packed books and merchandise⏤Jane Austen playing cards, earrings, and puzzles. Surrounded by books. In the good company of my friend.

With fingers and toes crossed that none of the books I’d packed would develop creased covers and none of the earring cases would crush, I left Jennifer’s after a Jane Austen vacation. And I carried a basketful of books.

Sunset at Jennifer's House