Touring Orchard House with the Riff Raff

I've always had a strange and powerful connection to the Little Women story, which began when I obsessively wore out my VHS copy of the 1996 movie version due to repeated viewings. Between you and me, I may have spent an afternoon or ten pausing and playing the video as I recorded the script word for word in my trusty notebook. Quotes from the film still rattle freely off my tongue, and no matter what others think, I find this story and its themes constantly relate to my daily life.

So imagine my delight when, after a lifetime of waiting, I arrived at Louisa May Alcott's home in Concord, where she wrote and set Little Women. The tour was delightful in all the ways you'd hope--sweet anecdotes about the Alcott sisters, an emphasis on staunch feminist ideals (Louisa had her own desk! Imagine the freedom--a woman allowed to have and record thoughts!), and original furniture, wallpaper, and even drawings on the wall by May Alcott (who is portrayed as Amy in the books).

But what truly made this a spectacle were the others on the tour. I'll begin with the tour guide, who was an extremely knowledgeable Wellesley College-ish-looking young woman with an arresting sense of humor and an even more peculiar accent. Now, I'm no linguist, but my mind was reeling trying to figure out the rhyme or reason to her pronunciations. I found her assessment of May being the "oddest of the family" rather strange, until I realized she was meaning to saw artist. Although I found her "Conkuhd" and "steeah-case" to be Kennedy-esque and therefore acceptable.

Her personality clashed strongly with one woman on the tour, who walked into Marmie's bedroom, and in a fantastic Boston accent loudly, "WHO DIED HEE-YAH?!" The guide was dismayed and suspected this woman wanted a paranormal tour and stated frankly that this was not her area of expertise. Later, we passed a portrait in the the hallway, and the Ghost Hunter remarked on the names of those pictured. "Phelps... like Michael! Michael Phelps...the Olympics. Oh, and a Helen Hunt! Now she's an actress. How strange, Helen and Michael!" The tour guide visibly withered, but agreed to discuss the portrait a couple of minutes later.

As we all gathered to listen to her description, we were cruelly shooed away by the guide, who had independently decided this portion would be between her and the Ghost Hunter only. Confused, I shuffled through the narrow doorways and out into the garden, but not before wondering, as I often do, "What would Marmie say?"