Dichroic Reflections

Autumn, Alcott, and memories of Columbia days

Coming home yesterday, I realized Fall had started for me. I had earworms of wistful old James Taylor songs (Carolina on My Mind, Sweet Baby James) and a jones for the big Fall LL Bean catalog. I understand the valid astronomic reasons for having seasons officially start when they do, but as far as I'm concerned they really start at the beginning of a month - to me, Winter runs from December through February, Spring is March, April and May, Summer is the three months I got off from school despite the undeniable truth that we only actually got about the last five days of June off (with a child's perception of time, I thought for years that July 4 came in the middle of summer vacation), and Fall is September through November.

I get so sick of summer that I'm in the mood for Fall well before it starts -- this year my annual mood swing is actually late because I've been so focused on last week's races. Last year I think I began wanting to wear Fall colors by about the middle of August. This year the weather has gifted me with a noticeable cooldown to complement my mood; it's hitting barely over 100 and our low temps are back to 80 or so. I do hope this lasts.

I've always enjoyed the first feeling of crispness on a breeze, but in the last decade and a half I've come to love Fall because it promises an end to summer heat that's overstayed a welcome I never gave it in the first place. Fortunately I have things like sleeveless sweaters or lightweight items in Fall colors so that I can compromise between a Fall mood and temperatures that would spell S-u-m-m-e-r anywhere else. And fortunately I can listen to elegiac Fall music and read cozy books that feel like nesting to me without any regard for weather or calendar.

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Speaking of cozy books, I was thinking about Little Women this morning, for some reason. There are some things about that book I've never understood and some that just seem odd in this time. Am I the only one who's always thought it strange that Theodore Laurence "thrashed" other boys to make them stop calling him Dora and then chose the nickname Laurie? Laura Ingalls Wilder was living on the prairie by the time Alcott was writing LW; if the name Laura was current, the nickname Laurie for a girl seems likely to have been around.

The word "middle-class" must not have been common in Alcott's time; the Marches are certainly not poor except by contrast to former glories; they have enough to eat and some to give away, a roof that doesn't leak, and even household help. Meg and Jo work because they begged to, and though the money they bring in does seem to help, there's no implication that necessity absolutely force the choice. But why does an Army chaplain's stipend not support his family? And what does Mr. March do after getting back from the War? There's never a mention that he's affiliated with any church, but he's too saintly to live off of his daughters' labor. (Bronson Alcott probably wasn't, but Mr. March seems to be a greatly idealized version of Louisa's father the flaky idealist.)

Also, it seems odd that the Marches' modest house would be immediately next door to the Laurence's mansion. I don't suppose there were zoning laws, but what about neighborhoods?

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In other media, I am a regular Frankie fan:

YOU ARE A ROCKY GOD! You know this movie, you could
dress up as Frankie, and pull it off in style!
You can recite the whole damn movie and sing
every friggin song! YOU KICK ASS!!


Whats your Rocky Horror IQ?
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Posted by dichroic at August 25, 2004 09:52 AM