JASNA 2024 AGM

Photo:English Country Dancing

Dear Eric and Kay,

     I hope you two are well, content, and getting to your beach house as often as you want. Though we didn’t get to see the aurora borealis when you visited so it’s still on my bucket list, I did check one item off that list. I attended the Annual General Meeting for the Jane Austen Society of North America and took the Regency purse you crocheted me to the ball, Kay.

    Spence drove me to Cleveland on October 16. We checked into the downtown Hilton hotel. The clerk smiled broadly through all my questions and gave me a room number I could remember—1515. He taught me to quickly scan the room key card then hit my floor button in the elevator. With 650 people attending the convention, not to mention the folks there for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction and the Guardian play off games, scanning and hitting the button before the elevator passed my floor proved a challenge at times.

     But our room was as welcoming as the clerk who checked us in. The TV screen flashed  bubbles and “Welcome Janet.” Before bed,  Spence turned the screen off so I could fall asleep. The room had a lovely view—the tall buildings around Public Square to the right; the justice center straight ahead; and the County Courthouse, football stadium, and lake to the right. This brought to mind Alex Bevin’s old lyric, “The only city with a landmark tower that is Terminal overlooking a Lake that is Erie.” “Cleveland Bluze” indeed.

    I enjoyed the chuckle, but the country girl in me savored the nature available in the city. The sun set over the lake in the evening and the full harvest moon shone in the early morning sky.

Love,

Janet

Trinity Cathedral Evensong Program

Dear Chris and John,

     I imagine you’re busy preparing Steventon Church for Jane Austen’s 250th birthday next year. I made it to JASNA’s AGM in Cleveland this year. Janeites were abuzz about upcoming events.

    On October 16, I attended Evensong at Trinity Cathedral, which I suspect is like your evening prayer service.The volunteer coordinator assigned me as the JASNA greeter. Before Spence left for work at his Cleveland volunteer office, he dropped me at the cathedral’s front door to welcome people arriving by bus or uber. But a church official welcomed me first. She showed me where the programs, hymnals, and bathrooms were. And she also told me I could listen to the choir rehearse. I wish I could, but I needed to wait outside the sanctuary for the other Janeites. One woman had walked half an hour from the hotel. I gave her change so she could take the bus back. I didn’t want her walking alone in the dark after the service. The kind church official who greeted me made more programs. We swelled their attendance from twenty to fifty.

     At the service, I sat with my friend Darlene. The prayers, scriptures, and homily were lovely, but we worried about the homily at first. The reverend talked about three uncompromising martyrs who were killed by uncompromising Queen Mary. There’s too much dismissal of others these days. I sighed relief when he said we’d had enough conflict and needed more tolerance and acceptance. But, I liked the music best. Lyrical melodies and rich harmonies resounded from the arched ceilings. Most of the service was sung.

     After the choir recessed, I helped stragglers catch up to bus groups and people find their uber drivers. Then, my friend and I met Spence for dinner. The conference got off to a harmonious start. 

Love,

Janet

Dear Maggie,

     Thanks for all the encouragement you gave me in preparing for the Jane Austen convention and the advice to just have fun. I did.

     The first evening, filled with lovely harmonies that resounded off the arches in Trinity Cathedral, I chatted with my friend Darlene while she drove me through Cleveland’s lighted streets. We passed landmarks I recognized and lots of new construction to meet Spence at Tech Hive where he rents office space for his lead safe group, CLASH (Cleveland Lead Advocates for Safe Housing). He warned us not to go out any door except the one he had a pass for or we would set off alarms. Not wanting to be responsible for obnoxious ringing, Darlene and I followed him around as if we were toddlers. He called our meal a “picnic in the dark”—actually takeout dinner from Aladdin’s in a dimly lit community room overlooking Euclid Avenue. While I savored rice and lamb with garlic sauce, we caught up on each other’s family —the ups and downs of her 104-year-old mom with dementia and her twenty-six year old grand twins with opposing political opinions. The granddaughter is crazy for Harris. The grandson is for Trump.

     Because of my no dairy and no soy restrictions, I ate most other meals alone in my hotel room during the conference. No worries. I’d packed food in a huge tote and stashed a few items in the room’s mini fridge. I set the place mat—made from the Jane Austen fictional houses fabric you gave me—on a table for one. Dining solo gave me a break from the conference’s busy schedule and time to relax. I also watched the sun set over Lake Erie.

Love,

Janet

Dear Xavier,

     I know you like running in the field. Do you like riding in the car?

     My friend Pat gave me a ride in her car. She drove me through a Metro Park. The trees were bright with fall colors—red, orange, and yellow leaves. She parked by Rocky River. I took pictures. Pat talked to a woman planting a tree. My favorite tree was a huge red maple. 

     Pat also drove me around her neighborhood. Her neighbors love Halloween. Do you? 

     People decorated their yards. There were witches, bats, and cats. There were ghosts and skeletons. One skeleton was almost as tall as the house. There were lots of pumpkins too. One was as big as a car. That pumpkin was made of plastic. All the pumpkins made me think of the five little pumpkins poem. Have you heard the poem?

Five little pumpkins sitting on a gate. 

The first one said "Oh my it's getting late." 

The second one said "There are witches in the air!" 

The third one said "But we don't care!" 

The fourth one said "Let's run and run and run!"

 The fifth one said "I'm ready for some fun." 

Ooooooooooooo went the wind and out went the light 

And the five little pumpkins rolled out of sight.

Love,

Aunt Janet

Dear Spencer,

     Is school fun? Are you making friends? I hope so. Friends are great.

     My friend Pat met me in downtown Cleveland. Then she drove me to her neighborhood in the western suburbs. We had lots of fun talking. She showed me autumn leaves then took me to Whole Foods grocery store . We bought lunch. She picked salad. I chose turkey, sweet potatoes, and harvard beets. Then she drove me to her apartment to eat. She put the food on fancy china.

    And I got to meet her cat Dave.

     Pat had told me Dave was mischievous. He ruined her chair by scratching it. He rolled in his litter box. Litter spilled all over the floor. He knocked down flower vases to get at water. He played in the water when Pat washed her hair. And he jumped in the tub when Pat took her bath. 

     I had to meet this cat!

     The Dave I met wasn’t mischievous at all. He smelled me and let me pet him. Maybe he smelled my three tabby brothers? He also smelled my food but didn’t eat any. My cat Rills would have eaten the turkey. 

     Dave let me take his picture. He quietly sat beside us while we ate. He was a gentleman while I visited.

     Pat had another cat called Ivy. Ivy was shy. She hit under the sofa. I only got to see her eyes. Then she hid in the bedroom.

Love,

Janet

 Name Badge  and Austen Annotated T-shirt 

Dear Reid and Claire,

     I hope you are cozy and content despite the political ads bombarding Michigan recently.

     Mid October, the Ohio North Coast Region of the Jane Austen Society of North America, hosted the Annual General Meeting. I’ve belonged to this small region for decades. The organizers of the event are my friends. Of course I volunteered. People from other regions helped too. One of my jobs was the registration desk.

     A lifesize cutout of young Jane Austen stood in the lobby of the downtown Hilton and directed the 650 attendees to the fifth floor registration tables and a view of Lake Erie. When registration opened Wednesday at 4:00 p.m., four volunteers waited with shoe-size boxes packed full of envelopes holding name badges and tickets for events. We gave an envelope to each of the attendees and their companions along with a purple tote bag, program guide, name badge holder, and lanyard. We were busy but like Jen—the friendly volunteer coordinator who taught us—we kept welcoming smiles, answered questions, and wished folks a great conference.

     My second session on the registration desk came Thursday afternoon when only Chris worked with me. The eight stuffed boxes had dwindled to three half-full boxes. Instead of folks asking how to get to Trinity Cathedral for Evensong Wednesday night, questions revolved around when to gather in the lobby for the bus to performances of A Midsummer Night’s Dream Thursday or the Cleveland Symphony Friday. Registrations were might lighter than the day before so we chatted about Chris decorating her Austen Annotated sweatshirt with her grandmother’s lace.

Love, 

Janet

Dear Lori and Eliza,

     I trust you are busy with your special animals and fall activities. 

     I attended a Jane Austen conference in Cleveland this October and met more drama than expected at the “Drama in Word and Music” event. Mr. Darcy—well his cardboard figure—and Eilanna, the other volunteer greeter, met me when I arrived at the concert room. No performers, no introducer, and no programs. Janeites arrived. My friend Jennifer, a conference co-coordinator, stood by the Emporium across the hall. I asked her who had the programs. 

     “Oh my gosh! They’re in my room.” And Jennifer, who needs hip surgery, dashed away.

     I jogged after but had trouble keeping up along the lengthy hall.  “Doesn’t that hurt your hip?  

     “Yes! I’ll feel it tomorrow.” Jennifer kept hustling.

     My knees screamed in pain. “Don’t worry. They can’t start. The introducer isn’t there yet.”

     “I’m the introducer,” she huffed and hit the elevator button. We rode to the sixteenth floor and raced to her room for the programs. She hefted a foot high box and debated using a dolly. I grabbed the box and, though it weighed more than I would usually carry, hurried off. I rested the box on the railing in the elevator, but I was panting before we got to the concert room.

     Jennifer’s grandson and Eilanna’s husband handed programs to people in seats. Eilanna and I handed programs to arriving Janeites. Jennifer made introductions. Pianist Laura Klein played Arne’s Overture to “Artaxerxes.” Gillian Dooley sang arias from “Comus.” Harmonies blended.

     Closing my eyes, I basked in the music Jane had played at home.

Love,

Janet

Dear Sophia,

     I hope school is going well and that you are enjoying your friends. Did you dress up for Halloween? I thought about you when I wore a Regency dress a friend made me. She sewed a Regency gown for me to wear at the Jane Austen conference’s ball in Cleveland. But she made a prototype or practice dress out of a sheet first. The practice dress was pretty enough to wear. I wore it for my dance class.

     English country dance classes are okay for me until the instructor teaches the second dance. Then I get mixed up. But the instructors Tom and Toni Tumbusch put me at ease right away. “This is an embarrassment free zone,” they said. “Everyone makes mistakes. When you do, just laugh. It’s human. If others criticize, it’s their problem not yours.” Good advice for life.

     They expected us to talk. To quiet us for instructions, Tom called, “God save the king.” We said, “God save the king. Shhh.” It always worked. But I doubt it would work for your teachers. 

     I danced “Haste to the Wedding” with Jill and “The Spaniard” with Ruth. 

     After that, David asked if something was bothering me. I guess I looked puzzled. “I can’t figure out when to circle with the old set of dancers or the new set,” I said. 

     His smile was bright enough to light up a football stadium. “I try not to think, I just go with the flow.” And he danced with me for “The Duke of Kent’s Waltz.” 

     After ninety minutes, I panted and my knees ached, but I had fun. I was ready for the ball.

Love,                     

Janet

Dear Addy,

     Do you remember walking at the farm? Once we wrote names of flowers. Maybe you still write things in the notebook Uncle Spence gave you.

     I took a special journal to a conference about my favorite author, Jane Austen. My journal is as big as your daddy’s hand. The black fold-around cover is decorated with pink flowers. A red ribbon keeps my place inside. I carried the notebook in a purple tote bag to keep it safe. After my dance class Friday morning, I asked the teacher the names of the dances. I wrote the names in the journal. I got a glass of water at the refreshment table. Then I hurried to my next session.

    The speaker, Susan Allen Ford, was going to talk about what Jane Austen read while she wrote her book Mansfield Park. I liked that book. I reached in my purple bag for my journal to take notes. No journal. I emptied the bag. Still no journal. I ran back to the dance room. People had moved the chairs. I asked them if they’d found my journal. They hadn’t. I searched under the chairs and by the water table. I checked the lost and found. No journal. I trudged back to the lecture. Where could the journal be? I only half listened to the talk.

     After the talk, I went back and searched the dance room again. My friend Helen met me outside the room “What’s wrong, Janet?” I told her about my journal. She said, “I'll ask the hotel people and check the room. Try the lost and found.” I’d already done all those things. But I dragged myself to the lost and found. Again. My journal was there! Some kind person had returned the book for me. I was grateful and put the journal back in the tote bag each time I finished writing.

Love,

Aunt Janet

Dear Julie,

     I trust, like me, being nurtured by our dear aunt Marge in all things political, you are invested in the election cycle this year. Jane Austen’s political origins was one theme in the Annual General Meeting of the Jane Austen Society of North American Society this year.

     In “Was Jane Austen Political,” Carol Moss stated men, powerful men’s wives, or wealthy women had political power. Jane wrote about society’s marginal and dependent—expressing personal politics. I preferred Collins Hemingway's view, in his riots and insurrections presentation, that savvy Jane did write about the politics of her time. She used humor so she wouldn’t land in prison for sedition. After all, Hemingway said, “There were more riots than Box Hill picnics when Jane lived.” In Northanger Abbey, the character Catherine describes gothic novel horrors. Elinor assumes a riot endangering her brother leading the Dragoons. Henry teases their confusion but sets them straight.

     Another theme of the conference was Austen's literary origins. Paul Savidge bought, at auction, Jane’s copy of The Curiosities of Literature by Isaac D’Israeli. He collected “interesting” anecdotes. Jane marked the margins of several with pencil and refers to these topics in her juvenile, letters, and novels. After the lecture we followed Paul out of the hall. He removed a thick black covering revealing a glass case holding the book. The group gasped and squeezed in close to get a view of Jane Austen’s signature in the upper right hand corner.

     Wouldn’t Marge, an antique book store comber and rare book admirer, have enjoyed a peek at The Curiosities?

Love,

Janet

Dear Nancy,

     I hope you are well. Soon cardinals will visit bird feeders again, but we still have time to enjoy the last of the amber and crimson leaves clinging to the oak trees. 

     This October I treated myself to a five day Cleveland trip for the Annual General Meeting of the Jane Austen Society of North America. As a volunteer, one of my assignments was a door monitor for a breakout on guidebooks in Regency England that I chose to attend. Volunteers were supposed to smile and help folks find their correct room. Unfortunately, the program listed the wrong room assignment.

     Confusion reigned. Half the people arriving at fifth floor Superior B wanted the political satire session. Opening my program book—a tour guide as such, I turned to the map in the back and directed the people to third floor Center Street BC via the elevator or two escalator rides. Rather than sit, I stood so I could ease the heavy metal door closed quietly each time a late arrival found us. I maintained my welcoming smile and caught snippets of the talk. 

     Caitlin Kelly, the speaker who once lived in Cleveland, started by welcoming Janeites with picturesque photos of the area. Then she talked about the purpose of guide books during Jane’s time—teaching people how to be tourists and reinforcing social values. Guides told visitors where to go, what to do, what to avoid, and how to behave. Caitlin noted the books were guides to tours and to marriage in Regency England. The heroine of Northanger Abbey depends on two male characters as tour guides. By doing so, she gains self awareness and a proper view.

Love,

Janet

Dear Amelia,

     You wore a 1920s dress for Laura’s wedding. Would you want to wear a cloud? Maybe you would wear a chip or a spencer? I can hear you laughing at those ideas. 

    My favorite author did wear all of those. Jane Austen lived from 1775 to 1817. 

    At a conference in Cleveland, Hilary Davidson told us what Jane wore. Hilary lived in Australia in 2020. She flew to England in March. She was on her way to visit Cleveland. COVID hit. Airplanes stopped flying. Hilary got stuck in England. She couldn’t go to Cleveland or back home. So she studied Jane Austen’s clothes. She sewed a replica of Jane’s pelisse. The picture on the card is the pelisse.

    Hilary brought the pelisse to Cleveland this year. Jane also wore a yellow and white cloud gown. The cloud was a light fabric. It must have felt as light as a cloud. Thin strips of wood woven together made chip. It was used in hats and shoes. And a spencer wasn’t your uncle. It was a short jacket. The jacket had long sleeves. It came down to the middle of your chest. Women and children wore spencers. I saw lots of spencers and a few chips at the conference. 

     After the talk, ladies modeled dresses like Jane would wear. Then we played Bingo. The bingo caller said, “Pelisse, like fashion police.” I thought only your Uncle Spence made that corny joke. When someone won, they didn’t shout Bingo. They shouted, Huzzah. 

     Are you laughing again?

Love,

Aunt Janet

Dear Seth,

     I hope you enjoy school. Did you dress up for Halloween? Do you like to read?

     I like books by Jane Austen. I went to a conference about her in Cleveland. At the conference people dressed up. They wore clothes like people wore when Jane lived (1775 to 1817). 

     The Cleveland baseball team is the Guardians. The team got their name from statues. They are on the Hope Memorial Bridge near the baseball stadium. The story goes that statutes protect traffic. The baseball team was in the playoffs.

     Baseball fans were at our hotel. In the elevator, people in Regency gowns rode with people in baseball shirts. Everyone smiled at each other. My friend Jen dressed up for Jane and baseball. Jen wore a dress and carried a tote bag decorated for Jane. Jen wore a baseball cap and jacket for the Cleveland Guardians. 

    Thursday night Jen grinned ear to ear. The Guardians tied the Yankees 5 to 5 at the end of the ninth inning. Then Cleveland won the game in the tenth. 

     Friday, Jen didn’t grin. The Guardians tied the game in the eighth inning. They lost in the ninth. She didn’t wear her Guardian clothes again. The team played their other games in New York. 

     I hope you have fun playing whether you win or lose.

Love,

Janet

Dear Marlee,

     On these warm fall days, I imagine you’re in the garden or walking with Norm. Enjoy.

     I spent five October days in Cleveland at the Annual General Meeting for the Jane Austen Society of North America. My friends, Jennifer and her daughter Amy, were the co-coordinators. I was one of their seventy volunteers hustling about. Plus, I attended five plenaries, five breakouts, four special sessions, and one workshop. As I scribbled notes in a plain blue college notebook—not my fancy flower decorated journal where I kept my personal reactions to events—I delighted in learning new things about Jane. There were more riots than Box Hill picnics when Jane lived. Frances Burney and Jane both delighted in depicting foolish characters. Naming Marianne’s horse Queen Mab meant her romance with Willoughby could only be a fairy tale.

     But other speakers’ comments created deja vu. Duh. I’d read those snippets.To help Jennifer, I had volunteered for the proposal reading committee that the presenters submitted. We read eighty-six  and rated them zero (not acceptable) to three (recommended). Highly rated ones became the talks I attended.

     However, I’m not a traveler. The long, packed days wore me down. Even though I don’t nap, the cool, dimly lit plenary room and the speaker's dulcet voice made me drowsy Friday afternoon. The lecturer had gotten to the part about Jane reading sermons while writing Mansfield Park. I forced my closed eyes open, jotted notes, and shook myself. If I succumbed to sleep, maybe people leaving the room would wake me? From the row ahead snores, floated back. A young woman nodded her head. People around her closed their eyes. Stifling chuckles, I stayed awake.

Love,

Janet

Dear Martha,

     I can visualize you at a restaurant eating yummy desserts, but shopping? We never did that.

     When I went to a Jane Austen conference in Cleveland this October, I browsed the Emporium thinking I might add an ivory bonnet to my Regency dress outfit. I always have bad hair days. Hiding my thinning hair under a bonnet made sense. I passed a replica of Jane’s brown pelisse outside the Emporium. Inside were ball gowns galore—no pelisses. I didn’t dare look at the price tags on the gowns because the least expensive bonnet cost $75.00. That didn’t even sport a single feather. I decided not to be vain and wear my thinning hair in a ponytail.

     Instead, I gravitated to my friend Jennifer’s store display, Jane Austen Books. There I viewed T-shirts and chose one with a quote from Pride and Prejudice. “Pay me the compliment of believing what I say.” Alas, the only sizes left weren’t mine. Determined to buy a souvenir, I considered a book about Budda and Jane. I asked Beth, Jennifer’s daughter, if she’d read it. She texted her mom. Jennifer wrote back that Jane was universal so any idea can fit her. True.

    Turning practical, I chose an address book. So many people have moved that new addresses are hard to read around the crossed out ones in my old book. And I splurged on a copy of The Tour of Doctor Syntax, a poem about a Don Quixote like character who travels on a steed and has adventures. Jane Austen read the poems. I’d met Dr. Wiebracht and three of his online high school students who annotated the satirical poem for Jane Austen readers. I’m looking forward to learning new terms and laughing at inside jokes.

Love,

Janet

Dear Anita,

     I hope you and the Tibetan terriers are well and enjoying the sunny days this fall. I also hope the mild weather lingers for Button’s visits to her favorite patients in the nursing home.

     After the first day, we had sunshine for the October Jane Austen conference in Cleveland. The co-coordinators of the event—my friends Jennifer and her daughter Amy—prepared for ten years. They still took time to think of me. They invited me to their banquet table Saturday night.   

     Because it was Jennifer’s birthday—which she didn’t want people to know—Amy announced the fact to everyone in the banquet room. We all sang Happy Birthday off key. Jennifer blushed but didn’t scold Amy. Jennifer did scurry out of the room for a few minutes.

     At our table we discovered two people shared Kamala Harris’s birthday and two shared Donald Trump’s birthday. I got a groan for having a birthday on the day Jane Austen was buried in Winchester Cathedral.

     The chef adapted dinner and dessert for me. Jennifer and Amy had sampled all the food and kindly chose a vinaigrette salad dressing that I could eat. 

      Most everyone came to dinner dressed in Regency apparel. After the banquet, people in Regency clothes promenaded from the banquet room on the fifth floor via escalators to the ballroom on the third floor. I chose to watch with others in regular party clothes so I could take photos. Unfortunately standing at the bottom of the escalator, all my pictures blurred. The people were in constant movement. But I enjoyed watching the festivities.

Love,

Janet

JW in the Regency Dress and English Country Dancing 

Dear Darlene,

    Thanks for accompanying me to Evensong at Trinity Cathedral and for eating dinner with Spence and me afterward. What a night to remember.

     Another night to remember was the following Saturday. I assured Spence he didn’t have to come back to get me into my Regency dress because I could find a Janeite to assist. He insisted. I suspect he really wanted to get his hands on the push-up bra you kindly helped me find. Remember the Victoria’s Secret sales girl? She’d decided to give up before we convinced her to let me try on the blue-and-pink lacy thing. Then she gushed in relief that the last bra in my size the store had stocked actually worked.

    The night of the ball, Spence fumbled with the hooks while I forced the cups into place in front. Then I slipped into my Regency dress. Spence easily buttoned the dress back and took photos before I left for the banquet and ball. Almost all the ladies wore Regency dresses. We had the same unnatural profile. Pushed up. I could manage for one night.

      At the ball, I clapped, passed right shoulders, turned in a circle, and swung with my partner.

     The bra didn’t cooperate. The push-up kept pushing up. My breasts slipped down. At the end of the first dance, I hustled to the ladies’ room to readjust the naughty undergarment. You and I hadn’t considered the effect a country dance would have on the bra when we shopped.

      After sitting out the second dance, I joined the third and hoped I’d stuffed my breasts securely this time. Alas, the push-up pushed up again. Short of securing the undergarment with duct tape, I don’t trust that contraption to behave on the dance floor.

Love,

Janet

Dear Sister Julie,

     I imagine you enjoyed the fall leaves. Sister Loretta would have gasped at autumn’s hues. She would also have delighted in the English country dance music at the ball I attended in Cleveland.

    Bare Necessities, the band that pianist Jacqueline Schwab founded, played Saturday night at the Jane Austen conference. Tom Tumbusch taught and called dances. A Jennifer I’d just met—not to be confused with my two Jennifer friends that helped run the conference—was my partner for the third dance. As part of the dance, I stepped diagonally to my corner, stepped backward, circled by myself, turned my partner, then circled with the set.

     Jennifer scrunched her face at me. “Are you dizzy? You should sit down.”

    The movements of changing sets, turning to face new friends, or staying with old friends were fast and did confuse me. But, horrors. Tom had threatened that if dancers left, the line would fall apart. A dancer couldn’t leave unless they took their whole set. Jennifer would have left, but not the others. “I’m fine,” I lied and figured I was tired, complicated by my normal wibble-wobbles.

     Jennifer pursed her lips. Having taken the man’s place, she didn’t turn me again. She held her gloved hands palms facing down. “Just rest.” She convinced some sets not to circle. At the end of the dance she sat me at a table, got me water, and told me to relax. She realized what I hadn’t.

     After four full days at the conference, vertigo was commencing. Before it hit full force, I gazed at the dancers and got a new perspective on the dance—the flow of costumed dancers walking, skipping, and leaping to the music’s beat. Their images blurred, as would my shaky photos, but the image of Jennifer’s kindness will shine in my heart forever.

Love,

Janet

Dear Bob and Norma,

     I hope you’re well, content, and reading something that engages you.

     In October at Cleveland’s Jane Austen conference, I attended the book signing event. Ben Wiebracht, an ardent Janite and online high school teacher, guided his students in annotating The Tour of Doctor Syntax In Search of the Picturesque. Austen had read this lengthy, humorous poem by William Combe and made reference to the work in her letters and novels. I bought Dr. Syntax to discover Jane’s references and because Thomas Rowlandson’s illustrations are amusing. I imagine Jane found them charming too. Wiebracht signed my book with a quote and his wish for me. “‘Yet while they laugh’d they lov’d him too.’ I hope you do as well!”

     Juliet McMaster signed my other books. Juliet created Juvenilia Press to publish stories Jane Austen wrote in her youth. Juliet edited and illustrated these books. When I set the stack of five juvenilia paperbacks on the table, Juliet’s eyes widened. Other people asking for her signature only brought the free copy of Edgar and Emma which we received in our purple tote bags at registration. I forgot that book in my hotel room and brought books I’d acquired at Jane Austen’s Books, my friend’s bookstore, over the years. The line grew longer behind me as Juliet wrote in my books, dubbing me a collector. She chatted about the press and explained that my copy of The Beautifull Cassandra was now out of print. Juliet was so impressed with my stack that she gave me a copy of her own juvenilia, a story she wrote about her pet mouse Douglas. “You’ll see why I made Cassandra a mouse when you read it,” she said. Juliet didn’t publish this work. She just printed the story to share with family and friends. What an honor to receive a copy.

Love,

Janet

Dear Marilyn,

     Since you moved, I’m pleased you walk to Lake Erie and that you’re making new friends.

     My friend Jennifer assured me everyone would be friendly at the JASNA AGM. 

     I was skeptical. Well, not about the seventy volunteers. We were instructed to “be friendly, be welcoming, and keep smiling.” But all other six hundred attendees?

     In the Emporium, I asked questions about bonnets, T-shirts, and books. Other shoppers always stopped their pursuals to offer cordial answers.

    Riding the elevator, people helped each other push floor buttons and commented on Regency dresses. I noticed that a Janeite’s name badge indicated she lived in Asheville, NC. I asked how she weathered Hurricane Helene. She said, “We lost all our trees, but our house survived. We were without power and water for sixteen days.” And she thanked me for asking.

     After the musical evening of soprano Gillian Dooley performing songs Jane had copied into her music book, a Janeite I didn’t know asked me to take a photo of her with Gillian. I obliged. Gillian lingered. I thanked for the lovely music, and she chatted with me as if I were an old friend.

     An old friend, I caught up with, isn’t old. He’s Jennifer’s grandson. Colin plays mellophone in his high school marching band. He said keeping valves from freezing in the winter is a challenge.

     More old friends and strangers grinned at me whenever I started a conversation. I suspect the magic is the love of Jane Austen. She’s the elixir that eases camaraderie. Should we make reading Jane Austen a requirement for politicians?

Love,

Janet

Dear Bob,

     Football season is here. I imagine you and the cats are watching games on TV whenever hurricanes passing through Florida permit.

      I could view the Browns’ stadium from my hotel window in Cleveland when I attended the Jane Austen conference this October. The same weekend  as the JASNA AGM, the Guardians met the Yankees in playoff games, the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame held inductions, and the Browns played the Bengals at the stadium. The downtown Hilton hotel was packed. Police roamed the halls. And Friday, because of all the celebrities arriving, the hotel closed all entrances except the Ontario Street door. People had to be a hotel guest or a JASNA attendee to enter.

     Under sparkling “Lyrics That Changed Us” lights, cutouts of Dave Mathews, Mary J. Blige, Cher, and Ozzy Osbourne decorated the lobby. I met long-haired men in elevators—not those stars.

     Spence walked me to his Maverick for our drive home Sunday. The usually quiet parking garage was hopping. People clad in orange and brown picnicked on lawn chairs. Others perched on tailgates. Still more blew horns and strolled along car lanes to a side door for the downhill walk to the stadium. Once Spence inched his pickup out of the garage, pedestrians in Browns’ garb streamed along sidewalks and crowded crosswalks. Spence crept out of downtown to 55 Street before getting on the Shoreway. Even then, a long line of cars waited to merge onto lanes heading into town. Not used to being in such crowds, I let the tension drain from my body, soaked in the sun’s warmth, and gawked at autumn's leaf show on the ride back to Wells Wood.

Love,

Janet