February 8, 1977 -- In which I'm sorry about some letters

Monday

10:37 pm

My mind has gone though its full range of emotions these past few weeks.

I've gotten some pretty rotten letters from Jeremy -- not that I haven't sent some of my own. I have, and I'm sorry of course, so is he.

Mom had her first surgery on her mouth Saturday and she's feeling pretty low. School's been fine. But I've been emotionally churned up inside. I need a job, for sure. But I'm frightened. I guess I didn't really feel like writing.

Note:
My mom had oral surgery because of periodontal disease. Her issues made me become a rabid flosser.

Don't remember the low patch with rotten letters going back and forth.

January 19, 1977 -- In which I write fiction or maybe a bad movie of the week

Wednesday

Grandma, tell me the story of Great Uncle's painting again.

Amie dear, I've told it to you so many times.

I know, but I really like it. Please Grandma, please.

Alright, but next time, you can tell it to me.

Start at the beginning, about Sara and Uncle Brian meeting.

Shush now. Well, as you know, Uncle Brian was always very artistic. Ever since he was a young boy. He always wanted to be a famous artist. One year he got his chance to go to America with a school group.

That's how they met, huh?

Yes dear, the house were uncle Brian stayed belonged to a friend of Sara's and the friend brought Brian and Sarah together and they are said to have fallen in love at first sight.

When Uncle Brian had to come back to England they promised to write to each other every day and mail the letters once a week. Sara cried and cried because she thought she'd nver see Brian again.

She was wrong though -- in six weeks she was boarding a plane to go to England to see Brian. They fell even more in love. This time Sara met Brian's family -- my husband, your Grandpa is Brian's brother.

We all loved Sara and hoped that she would become part of our family.

This time they promised each other to each other. Again they had to part ways -- this time for a year, but they wrote each day and mailed each week.

All this time, Brian was working towards his art degree and Sara for her teaching certificate.  They would not marry until they finished college. They exchanged visits once more, and had only two years left to get married when Sarah got the disease.

This always makes me cry, Grandma. Sara was so brave.

Yes dear, she was. She lived Brian so, that she told him to go and find a new love. She didn't want him to see her weak. She wanted to spend the last few months with her parents and couldn't marry Brian. But the last time she saw Brian, she made him promise that he would paint her portrait from memory so people would wonder who she was. She also made him promise to become famous. She reminded him that all the famous artists had lost at least one loved one and didn't want her love and death wasted.

And he is famous, isn't he, Grandma?

Yes, your Uncle Brian is famous now. And Sara is to thank. He painted her portrait and now people from all over the world come to look at it and say "Who was she? The artist must surely have loved her."

And he did, Grandma -- he did, didn't he?

Note:
Oh my -- that is so embarrassing on so many levels.

January 7, 1977 -- In which I again voice my fears about Jeremy and me

Friday

I guess I never made it back that night. I fell asleep trying to get Kasey to go to bed. There is nothing I really needed to say that night anyway. There is nothing I have to say today either.

School begins on Monday. I can't say that I'm overjoyed, but not all that bothered either. I am wondering what my haircut is going to cause people to say. I think it does something for me.

I've been worried about me and Jeremy. Sometimes I don't know if he loves I love him like I should. We are not getting married for a while to make sure we are right for each other, but if I'm too chicken to say we aren't the whole purpose will have been defeated.

Note:
Pretty astute of me, that last line. As we now know, I eventually did say we were not right for each other.  I'd been gnawing on that worry since the first time apart.

December 31, 1976 -- In which I write a little and break tradition

As keeping with tradition I shall write in a journal on the last day of the year. I won't color the p(JEREMY CALLED!)ages like I have other years.

Jeremy called at 7:15 pm. He is coming on June 29, 1977!!! Which is exactly 180 days from today! :-)

I talked to Pat Wilkinson too and Mr and Mrs Burgoyne. The line was real clear. I'll be back in a little while.

(Play?) Trap for a Single Man.

Note:
That was pretty clear except for the last line. Perhaps I was going to watch something on television.

November 6, 1976 -- In which I go out.

Because I am tired, I will not attempt to delve into the inner me tonight. I'd just like to say that I had a good time tonight, and didn't watch a lick of TV. I went out. I dressed up rather nice, put a smile on my face and graciously accepted many compliments. I am glad I went out -- all of my other memories are getting stale. I'm getting stale.

Note:
No idea what that was about. No idea with whom I went out.

October 31, 1976 -- In which I claim I'm lazy (future self says not so)

Sunday

HALLOWEEN!!!

Sundays are my Dona days. I devote the entire day to me. Today I slept late, ate a late breakfast, took a long hot bubble bath, washed my hair in the sink and dried it in the sun, watched the television, made brownies, ironed my clothes (and a few of mom's) did a bit of mending, watched more TV, wrote to Jeremy, and am now to sleep a good sleep.

Trouble is, nowadays every day is a Dona day. I wish I weren't so selfish. I must stop being so lazy -- or I'll end up like my Aunt Pat.

I have an idea -- each time I write I'll write about a certain person and my feelings towards them. I'll begin tomorrow with myself, for I am the closest to me.

Note:

1. I dislike Halloween now, what happened to make me dislike it when I obviously used to like it?
2. It sounds like I had a rather busy day. I did a lot more that day than I do nowadays.
   
3. I'd probably be like my Aunt Pat if I weren't married to Mr. Neat and Tidy
4. Ha -- how funny that I was going to write about my thoughts about people -- looking ahead, I never did do it -- not until my 365 blog that I never finished.
   

October 30, 1976 -- In which I write about not writing

Saturday

Hey! What a short two months. I wish that I had written a lot more, but that can't be helped. I guess the memories will just have to fade away like last time's. Oh well, nothing -- not even my own lack of initiative can take away the important memories. They can't be written and described.

I'm not even keeping up sending Jeremy's letters. I must find a day when I will do it for sure. I have just finished writing to him.

My geology class went to Starved Rock State Park today. You know -- I think I had the best time today than I've had ever since I got home.

Mother has been going to a doctor about her teeth. I think she will have to go through some real hell before this is all over. I hope she doesn't lose her teeth.

Mom and I went to ECC's production of Cabaret the other night. It was very good. Lisa Palm was very good, as always. Tonight is the end of daylight savings time.

Note:
I wish I had written more about the trip. I wrote nothing about our trip to Scotland. Nothing about Nick and Janet's wedding.

I remember that day at Starved Rock. We were learning orienteering and I was the leader of the group. I did very well in geology. I entered the class two weeks late, got caught up and was at the top of my class and became a leader of sorts. Too bad it didn't stick. Too bad I didn't realize then that I could go into the science field instead of teaching.

Funny -- this entry was written exactly 32 years ago today. I'm not sure that's happened very often in this blog.

August 20, 1976 -- In which I cry for Derrick and myself

Why do I cry? I've only met him twice. I've stayed with him once at his house and he had tea here tonight. His parents are happy. He is happy. His sister is happy. But I cry. I cry because chances are, I may never see him again.  He is such a sweet little man. I am crying for a selfish reason. It's all "I". Derrick has cystic fibrosis. He's so m uch like Kevin. His hair's that same shade of brown and he has that same mischievous glint in his eye. Damn death. Why prey on young children? Disease, why?

I suppose I feel like this because I have never come this close [to death]. But why do I cry? It seems cruel to put this to words. I feel like I'll have bad luck. But why do I cry?

Note:
I remember feeling so helpless that Derrick would not live a long life. I remember thinking that he reminded me of my brother, Kevin. That's probably why I cried -- thinking about my brother being in his position.

Derrick did die early, but he lived longer than expected. I think into his 30's.

He's the one on the right, looking at the camera.

Blogged with the Flock Browser

August 12, 1976 -- In which I write nothing but tape a photo in the journal instead

Friday

11:05 am

A ,BI

Note:
I don't know what that was about -- it looks like I started writing something, then quit. On top of the entry, however, is a photograph of Jeremy dressed up, with a cigar and garter. Maybe we were pretending we were gangsters?




On the back of the photo he wrote:

Dona,

This is me being a "ham" (sp?) -- I don't actually go around with a handkerchief in one hand, a garter in the other hand, a cigar hanging from my lips and lipstick on my cheek -- I'm not usually dressed as sharp as this, and I seldom have neatly combed hair. In fact his is not really a photograph of me at all, but you know the real me anyway! :-)

Love ya,

Jeremy R x

July 25, 1976 -- In which I list many things to remember

Kirkstall Abbey

Haworth


Brimham Rocks


Stonehenge



Woodhenge

Amesbury

Salisbury

Winchester


Watership Down & Nuthanger Farm

Old Sarum

Markets


Danger Areas

Burial mounds


Camping

That is my remembrances of these past two weeks plus snails, poppies, durids, Americans, Old Glory, Betrix Potter, Ian Stephanson, Licorace Allsorts, wasps and etc.

Note:
I remember 14 of the 24 things listed. Not bad for an old lady.

July 19, 1976 -- In which I write very little

Monday

2:15 am

This is probably the latest I've gone to bed (not counting my first day here) since I got to England. I haven't been keeping up my travel diary very well, have I?

Note:
No I hadn't.

July 11, 1976 -- In which I have an eventful day

Saturday

1:15 am

I'll finish my "airport experience" later. Now I shall tell you about today:

Mrs. Burgyone wke me up at 9:15 am. She brought me a mug of tea (can't imagine my mother doing that! But I am a guest here, aren't I?). She said that I had some company -- and then a small blond head peeked around the door -- it was little Matthew -- Janet's sister's son. He quickly left and I sat up in bed and drank my tea. Then I got ready and put a couple of silver dollars in my pockets and went downstairs. Neil -- Janet's brother -- was very friendly. His first question was "why don't you wear glasses anymore, Dona?" I answered, "Because I've got them stuck to my eyeballs!" He didn't believe me until I explained it -- I don't think he does yet! :-).

Matthew was shy. I gave Neil his dollar and then gave Matthew his -- after some bribing.

After they left a beagle paid us a visit. He just walked in the door and into the living room. His name is Gamble and he looks just like [Grandma's dog] Chubby. I took his photgraph and if it turns out I'm going to give it to Grandma I think.

After a good lunch (3 stars -- cut up chicken, baked potatoes (jo-jos), corn and peas. Jeremy and I went off to the Puddsey Fair. It was a bit like a county fair. There was even an Indian (2 actually) who shot at us with a bow and arrow and got Jeremy in the back.

I talked so someone about liquid silver.

We caught a bus back -- at 5:30, and had a nice tea outside -- of sandwiches and rasberries with cream. (3½ stars), before which I washed my hair and body.

After tea Nick [Jeremy's brother] and Janet [Nick's fiance] took us up to their new house. It is very nice. I'm sure I'll be there lots and lots. Janet and I get on very well. I am so happy!

After that we all came home (Mr and Mrs B went out to some friends) and watched some TV. Jeremy and Nick went for fish and chips and we all ate again.

Jeremy and I had an almost argument, but we stopped it. I wonder if the six push-ups helped.

Oh -- I saw my dress for the wedding. It's very pretty.

Yesterday I didn't wake up until 12:00. Jeremy brought me breakfast in bed. I had been up 29 hours.

Note:
Nick is Jeremy's older brother and he was marrying Janet in September of that year. I was to be Maid-of-Honor in the wedding with Jeremy as Best Man. Nick and Janet's marriage didn't last -- I think they had two boys. I think they are both remarried.

July 9, 1976 -- In which I get a huge send-off

Friday

1:20 am

One of these days I'll write down my experiences. Someday when I am in the mood for writing and have 10 hours to spare. Maybe I can get it published. I've been in England for 2 days now. Today was a heck of alot more then relaxing than my first day.

On Friday, July 2, one week ago today I called my travel agency to check on my flight to England due to leave at 8:30 pm July 7th. The woman at Around the World Travel put me on hold for 10 minutes, all the while I was getting nervous. When she came back she said, "Ha ha ha, guess what, Dona -- your flight has been canceled. Ha, ha, ha." I was upset and couldn't believe it -- and this woman was laughing? But she said that if I was flexible I should be able to fly the 7th or 8th. I thought a minute and asked Mother who said to fly the 7th so I told the lady who promptly put me back on hold. Then in a few minutes she came back once more and said that everything was fine and I was booked to fly to London at 8:30 pm July 7th. Fine! On Saturday I called Jeremy and packed the rest of the time. On Wednesday morning I began to get nervous. I pretended to be calm, but I was excieted and nervous at the same time. As the time drew near I began mumbling and talking to myself! Then at 6:30 my dad started the packed car and took off to Hanover Park where we were going to eat. Neil and Evy Olson with Dawn and Mark stopped in and had dessert. I, along with Mom, Dad, Kevin and Philip had a gyro which was pretty good. Then we all rushed to the airport.

We arrived there at 8:00 and Daddy couldn't find a parking space so he let us off and he and Neil found one while Mom, Evy, Kevin, Dawn, Mark and Phil ran to my terminal. We didn't even stop for flight insurance. When we reached where we were going we asked if the plane would wait and they said yes. So we relaxed a bit. I got in line and got my luggage weighed and checked in (a small bag and a large suitcase). Then I was told to go to gate B3 which I did after hugging and kissing my family and Olsons. I was on my own -- at last.

Notes:
I don't remember that I had such a large group to send me on my way, but I can believe it. The Olsons really liked Jeremy. Philip was my brother's best friend, and being young boys, they probably liked going to airports (Philip ended up being a flight mechanic for an airline).

What a difference a terrorist attack makes. If this had been today I would have had to get to the airport 2 hours before take-off. It looks like I got there half an hour early and was able to check my baggage.

And now that I see that we had gyros in Hanover Park, I'm confused about my thinking it was in South Elgin. Memory is an elusive entity.

I think that I mistakenly wrote that the flight was supposed to take off July 7th. Maybe July 9th or July 6th because it actually took off July 7th, didn't it?

July 7, 1976 -- In which I fly to England again

Wednesday
9:06 pm Chicago time

Lights! Blue and orange and white! The 'plane is on the runway now, waiting to take off.

I had tears in my eyes when I said goodbye to my family. They should be almost home by now. I am going "home".

I want to write "here I go at last!" but that's what I said last time. I want this to be a fantastic journal -- one I can look back at and smile a little, cry a little and laugh a lot!

I'm feeling a little queasy, but that is most likely due to the gyro sandwich I had before I left. They are going to server dinner soon -- I don't think I can quite handle it. I had some Coke and that didn't help much.

I have a very nice woman sitting in the same row as me. She's British I think. I'm not sitting in the movie section. But I'm not bothered. I need the rest. I didn't especially want to see the film anyway. Sour grapes, I know.

4:30 am English time

3300 ft / 580 mph -- Turbulence! My eyes are a little sore.
Bangor ME -- Over Atlantic -- Cork, Ireland -- Irish Sea -- Cornwall -- London

Notes:
I remember this flight. I remember the gyro I ate. In fact, whenever I pass the restaruant we ate the gyros at in South Elgin, I think of eating that gyro before my flight in 1976. (We went back there to celebrate Clare's 13th birthday. No gyros then though. Good pizza instead.)

June 15, 1976 In which I talk about my dislike of Cousin Bob and end the Journal

Tuesday

12:58 pm

Why do I have such a terrible feeling about Bob? Why do I hate him so? For that is what this feeling is, this tight stomach, pounding temples, constricted throat. Yes, it is hate -- the worse of all emotions -- the evil demonic feeling inside.

I'm sure his feelings for me are not that of sisterly love. Nor cousinly love either, for that matter.

In only 23 days and a few hours I will be rid of him for two glorious months. Hopefully, soon after that, he will move out -- but that's only wishful thinking. He has disrupted our family. We fight more than ever. My father has bad moods more than ever.

But what's to be done? I wish I could get rid of all emotion -- like [to] feel nothing for him -- no love, no hate.

I asked God to help me I think. He has probably given me a solution, and I didn't catch it. I don't know.

What an awful note to end a journal on. Sad, very sad.

This is not much of a journal, althoug one of my best friends is met in here -- Woody। I probably didn't mention him much. My first year at college is in here too -- and Zayre (yuck).

Note:

Bob, of course, is my cousin. He was a difficult person to know. He had a volatile temper and it was often directed at me. Of course, I had a wicked temper too, so it was not just him.

He didn't show appreciation that my father spent long hours building him a room of his own.

And what was with that asking God thing? It must have bothered me to actually pray about it.

I've not seen him in years -- he spent Christmas Day with us at my parents house. We talked a little about our animosity back then and it seemed that he'd calmed down.

The next year my mom didn't call him and personally invite him (she told his mom to ask him) and he took that as an offense and didn't show up. I've not seen him since.

As for the end of the journal -- I normally tried to end journals on New Years Eve and then would write the highlights of the year on the last page. I guess I grew out of that.

June 12, 1976 In which I am calm and serene

7:30 am

I have just woken up. The sun is shining on the entire length of my bed and it is very warm, but there is a slight breeze. Now -- this is something I should be writing to Jeremy, but I need memories from this book too. (???)

I work 10 to 6 today. Full time hours. Yuck! But at least I don't dread it.

Only 26 more days to go! Zowie! I've got so much to do before I leave though. What am I going to do? I thikn I'll throw a robe over my shoulders pretty soon and go downstairs and make myself a large breakfast. Ummm. I didn't have any supper :-( so I am double hungry. This isn't a very good entry -- I just wnated to say that I felt calm and serene. I don't know why, unless it is because the birds are singing and a cool breeze is cooling me. I feel good -- now wait for work and I'll feel rotten. Perhaps not, one never knows. I'm just glad things are back to normal.

Note:

Nothing to write -- I guess I was happy that morning. 7:30 am seems early to have risen at age 19 though.

June 11, 1976 -- In which I'm bothered by a fellow employee

Only 27 more days!

I've decided to write tonight to add a little about a sad time in my life. -- Martin, the security guard at Zayre.

Mr. Martin--  a security guard at Zayre began to talk to me about things such as the weather. He asked me my name too. That was fine -- a friendly security guard. On June 8th he said I "looked great" in my new skirt, that I was a "very nice girl", and that he would like to see me "out of work" sometime -- like Saturday.  I said no and he seemed to take that as an answer. The next day he asked me again and spent his break with me and asked and asked. I said no and no and no. The next day he didn't say much. Finally today he said he wanted an answer. I gave it to him -- "No!". But he wouldn't buy that. Then he wanted my phone number, but I didn't give it to him. Finally I laid it down straight and explained about Jeremy. He finally got the message, but wants to "still be friendly". He's sweet but persistent (and old -- at least 30!).

What next? I've had my fill of men (exectp for Jeremy of course) for this year!!! :-)

Note:

Actually I think I led this guy on. He was not from the states --  he was from Pakistan -- so either he didn't believe me or had some preconceived ideas about women from the states.

I didn't mention that Martin called me at home. I got scared and told my dad to answer the phone the next time it rang. He did and told Martin to stop calling or he'd call the police.

Martin didn't talk to me after that.

I like how I said he was old -- at least 30. Heh.

May 24, 1976 In which I have ominous feelings

Monday

11:53 sm

I have no right writing in this because I've got a million and one things to do before 2:00. I have to work 2-10 tonight. I hate those hours.

Woody called today and I asked him if he would go to the wedding. I hope he can. He didn't sound to repulsed by the idea. As a matter of fact he seemed like he was looking forward to it. I want to go very badly, but not a lone. I wish Jeremy was going, but he's in Jolly Old England. I'd take Jeremy over Woody any day of the year, but as it is I must take Woody for this occasion.

Only 45 days 'til I leave for England. 12 days after Chris' wedding. I have a million and one things to do before that day too.

Cinder has just stepped over me. I am looking (listening) for a certain song on the radio called Shannon. I always thought it was about some guy who lost his wife, but Woody told me it was about a man explaining to his son about his dog's death.

Cats in the Cradle by Harry Chapin is on now, I like that one a lot. It reminds me quite a bit of Kevin and Daddy.

I've been feeling an ominous presence lately. Like death is awaiting to strike. I get nervous and feel like running down and hugging my parents when I feel this. Like when I was a little girl. I feel that they can take this feeling away like they used to. But they probably can't. Maybe if I went to bed earlier?

One reason I've been feeling rotten lately is because my room looks like Aunt Pat's house. I've set my clock for 7:00 these past mornings and haven't gotten up until 10 at any of them. I am so stupid!

Note:
What stands out in this entry is the song Shannon. I didn't remember it at all, but a search on the Internet found it on MySpace and YouTube. I immediately remembered it when I heard it, but don't remember the melody even after just now playing it. No wonder it was forgettable.
Here's the song that someone put as background to video of his dog. Cute dog.


My Aunt Pat was a pretty untidy housekeeper, to say the least. No wonder I was feeling rotten.

May 23, 1976 In which I go to a shower

Sunday

11:46 pm

Will I do it tonignt? I doubt it.

Went to Chris M's wedding shower tonight and had a great time. I wish I could do more things with them, but they are so much different than me sometimes. Who really cares?

I guess not tonight! :-)

Note:
Chris was the first of friends to get married. I remember going to her apartment after she had her baby. I'd just returned from a trip to England sat there dumbfounded while she and another friend discussed oven cleaners. I couldn't believe the differences in us. I was the world traveler. She was stuck home with an infant cleaning ovens. Yet not long before I wrote about how I wanted to begin a family. I guess I didn't expect to be cleaning ovens.

May 22/23, 1976 In which I make a joke

Saturday/Sunday

12:31 am

I don't know what to call the hour between days, so I'll say both. I don't really like this journal and that's why I plan on ending it tonight. Good bye crewel world. Yes -- I am giving up on embroidery! No, I take that back! I won't give it up. You know what. On second thought I'll end this journal tonight. Perhaps tomorrow.

Note:
Ahh a play on words. I thought I'd misspelled cruel, but it was part of a joke. I think that was because I was hanging out with Woody. He (and his family) were big on puns and jokes.

April 24, 1976 In which I discuss finances

Saturday

This is silly to be writing, in bed, in my nightclothes at one o'clock in the afternoon when I have to be at work in about two hours or so. I told Kim that I would be there around 3 or 3:30.

Briefly -- Peg's quit and Diana's been fired [For future reference Diana's my ex-boss in Zayre jewelry]. I don't need to write the entire story because I shan't ever forget it. I've just finished writing to Jeremy -- I poppied an entry of the first time I ever wrote to him. I do believe that falling in love makes one's writing ability so much better. Those entries were so poetic -- these entries are nothing but nothing.

Only 74 days and 7 1/2 hours before I leave on a jet plane.

My money situation is as follows:

Larkin Bank:	$370.00
First Federal:	217.00
Check:	56.00
Check coming:	+ 50.00
	693.00
Mother's Money	-10.00
	$683.00

Now the flight will cost $547.00

$683.00 - 547.00 Leaving $136.00 for spending money. I hope to have at least $300.00 to spend in England, but I've still got all the presents to get now.

If I figure $30.00 a week I'll have $406.00 by the end of June. At $40.00/wk I'll have $496.00 by the end of June. And with the apple pie hopes of $50.00/week I'd have %580.00 by June 30. Oh well, I will have to "make do" I suppose. That's too bad though, what with school things to buy. I hope I have a job when I get back too.

Note:
What surprises me most is the cost of the flight to England. I thought it was less because now it's not even double that to fly there.

The mention of Diana at work -- Diana was my immediate boss. She was fired for stealing money from the till when she "closed out". Plus she hardly ever worked -- and would call me to come in even when I was not on the schedule. It worked out fine for me, I got more hours that way.

April 10, 1976 In which I write a story about a merry-go-round

Saturday,

Once upon a time there was a carousel in Central Park. On this carousel was a pair of beautiful white horses -- one -- the girl named Ching-a-ling -- and a boy named Chink. They would go up and down and up and down and around and around. Ching-a-ling and Chink fell in love and were happy to see each other go around and around and up and down every day. They loved to hear the children laugh and see the lovers smile.

One day a rather large girl saw the carousel and ran real fast and jumped onto Chink very hard. Suddenly Chink could no longer go up and down -- his spring was broken. But Ching-a-ling still loved Chink.

The grown up people came and took Chink to an underground tunnel and took his white paint off and painted him brown and stuck him in a large box and put a small metal box next to him that said 10¢ and stuck him outside a store. He couldn't go up and down -- only back and forth.

Back at the carousel Ching-a-ling still loved Chink -- even though he was on the other side of town. The other horses laughed and called her silly for still loving him -- they said why love a horse who couldn't go up and down and is brown and lives on the other side of town?

Ching-a-ling didn't' listen to them -- she knew that it was just as easy to love a brown horse as a white one, one who can only go back and forth as one who can go up and down and one who lives on the other side of town as one who lives right next door. She explained to the other horses that everyone -- both white and brown horses were the same -- just strip off the white or brown paint and they were all wooden horses [underneath].

Note:
That was disappointing. I hoped the ending would be better. I don't remember writing it and am not sure what it is supposed to mean. Inter-racial love? Long-distance romance?

April 3, 1976 In which I worry about being an old mother

Saturday

Hey! What did I write last? Something silly about sex? yeah, how silly. Oh m'gosh. I've just been fantasizing about marrying Jeremy this summer. I wish. It could be so -- even if we did it in secret, but that is impossible. I want so bad to begin our family. I almost wish I could get started this summer -- but it's all for the best, I guess, that I don't. I hope that the next five years go relatively fast. I want to be married so badly. (I will be 24 when I am married, I hope we have kids soon. I don't want to be an old mother.)

Why am I so worried, I don't know -- just figured it out -- I'll be 23 when I'm married. Jeremy will have just turned 21.

Our holidays (personal) will be January 1 - New Years Day (Trad)
Feb 14 Valentines day
Feb 16 Mom's b'day

---

Oh forget it -- it's too complicated. I have to get to sleep -- up at 5:30 tomorrow to see the sunrise.

Note:
The line about not wanting to be an old mother made me laugh. I was 34 before I had my first child. My daughter says the same thing, she doesn't want to be an old mother.

I have no idea what that about the personal holidays were. Maybe school?

Marcy 28, 1976 In which I feel guilty

10:26

I am very guilty of not studying. I don't know what to do.

Shall I run down my day? I'll remember this day for a very long time.

It wasn't the events, but the circumstances and with whom. I was with Woody. I held hands with Woody -- as people in love do. I kept on saying things like I didn't like it, and pulling away, but I was lying because I did like it. It was a pleasant sensation. I felt guilt for having such feelings. I even wanted to kiss him tonight. I would have if he did.

Why have I written that? Jeremy will read this and get angry when we are married -- please don't get angry Jeremy. I love you, but it is hard to be with one of the opposite sex and be free of sexual feelings -- at least with me. I need a man, but I won't, or at least will try not to give into physical feelings.

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Wow.

Ok.

I was nineteen years old for goodness sake. Of course I wanted sex. I was normal.

March 27, 1976 In which I'm glib

Tomorrow I go to the Flower Show! Hip, hip hooray! So what? I should study. G'bye.

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