Thursday, February 24, 2005

February 21, 1973
In which I reminisce about elementary school

Wednesday (8:35)

My mom is right. You can't go back to your childhood places. Even an old school you went to for eight years. I want to go to Highland this afternoon -- but there are so many rules and regulations that say - not in so many words - No, once you've left you cannot come back. I feel like crying and getting mad at everyone - but I will just write my feelings in here.


I was angry earlier this morning when Lori told me that her mother said we might get kicked out of the grade school. Her mother is always butting into things like that. She was all upset over the fact that I wanted to see my 3rd grade teacher - Miss Meyer. She (Lori's mom) doesn't like Miss Meyer. I really don't know many people who do. I learned more from her than any other teacher since. Things not from books - but the fact that I am as good as anyone else and if I have a question ask it. (in school).

I told Lori something that I have only told Cindy. I am more ashamed of this than anything else that has ever happened. The fact that I had to take third grade over.

That's why I make it such a point to do better in school in the grade.

{You appear to have a very mature attitude about life, Dona. It is natural for all of us to have many questions - and fewer answers; we humans seem to have an eternal quest for knowledge. Everyday adds something to our constant growth process.}

Barbara Meyer, was my third grade teacher both years. She was considered the meanest teacher in the school and most parents were as afraid of her as their children were. Looking back, I remember her looking a lot like the "We Can Do It" woman on the WW II propaganda posters. She had a loud voice and was heard to swear on occasion.

Near the end of my first third grade year, Patty K., a classmate down the block, told me that she heard Miss Meyer tell someone I was going to flunk third grade. I ran home crying and my mom told Miss Meyer what Patty told me. Patty (sidenote - she was the aunt of my nephew's longtime girlfriend and neice's roommate in college) got in trouble for telling something she overheard (she was helping Miss Meyer erase the boards or something). What on Earth did Miss Meyer expect? That was quite a scoop for an 8 year old to keep to herself. My mom denied it, but not long afterwards told me it was true.

I was sitting on a tricycle backwards with a pillow behind my back and scooting around the living room. My mom said she had something to tell me and told me that the teacher and principal thought it would be best if I didn't go on to 4th grade next year. Of course I was upset and embarrassed. I was mostly concerned with the first day of school in the fall where normally we all went back to our previous year's classrooms and the current year teachers would come in one by one and read the names of the students in his or her class. I wondered if I would be the last person sitting in that class and everyone would know.

What the teachers did was have me go somewhere else and help out, but return to the class when all sorting was over. I guess it helped me not be so aware of not being promoted, but everyone figured it out at some point, I am sure.

In the long run it was the best thing that could have happened. Had I not repeated that year I may very well have dropped out of school or done so poorly that I would not have considered college. Miss Meyer did me a favor. I requested to be in her class the next year and I think I was a favored student that year. She was surprised because she knew her reputation.

I did get to visit with her later, and when I was in college did a brief internship at the school. I got to hang out in the teacher's lounge and did talk with her some. I wrote her a letter about 15 years ago, but it was before word processing and personal computers were common. I typed it on an electric typewriter, allowed another teacher to look at it and since she found so many errors I threw it away.

February 20, 1973
In which I don't even have to just say no


I have been asked many times this year from concerned grown-ups whether or not there are drugs at Larkin. I always come back with the same answer, "There probably are although I have never come in contact with them. I guess I'm with the right people." Then the concerned grown-up goes away and talks to another grown-up about the lady across the street or her great grandmother's funeral.

That is true though. I haven't heard anything about drugs (not that I want to). {good} I don't see why people get so worked up over the things at Larkin. I was frightened to come to Larkin last year because it was such a "drug market". My uncle was a custodian here. He told everyone about the problems of Larkin.

Is still don't remember any drugs at Larkin.

I was afraid to go to high school. My uncle did tell me scary stories (such as the time a student pooped on the stage). My cousin (this uncle's daughter) was so afraid of going to Larkin she got sick and was home schooled for at least a quarter of a year.

February 19, 1973


Cindy and I are slowly becoming enemies. Mother and I were talking one day and she says cindy and I are jealous of each other. {posibility}. I don't know about that. Cindy has finally gotten what she strove for ever since we met - better grades. Now she is high above me -- better than me in all ways. {I doubt if this is true. You have many good qualities.} Now she is more outgoing, has much busier weekends.

Oh well, everyone can't be perfect.

I'm such an idiot. But I hae on one else to tell my "problems". My mother told me to quit talking to her about how Cindy hurts me. At least now someone reads my writing instead just me and the ghosts under my bed. {writing is often an excellent release of feelings and emotions}

Of course it was jealousy. I can see that now, and probably not Cindy's jealousy of me, but mine of her. My daughter had a friend for several years who is no longer such a good friend. Their loss of friendship broke my heart, but even though it might hurt her now, she will get over it as I have with Cindy.

I may have mentioned this earlier in this blog, but Cindy lives a few hours from me in Charlottesville, VA. My nephew lives there now and we will be visiting him several times during the next few years, so I should really write to Cindy and stop by or arrange to meet somewhere. It would be healing for me, I think.

Oh Ms. Sliger, where are your comments now?

February 16, 1973
In which I worry about seeing my grandfather


I want to see Grandma and Grandpa very much - but on the other hand I feel odd about it. I don't know how I am going to act when I meet them -- especially Grandpa.

I have known people with artificial things - eyes etc..., and I know people who are maimed in some ways. I cry to think that I hadn't paid much attention to him. I always was with Grandma more. Grandpa and I could almost be the same person -- we have the same interests (except he likes dirty books, Ick!!!). {My goodness}

I came across the golf equipment Grandpa gave me last summer. It made me sad to think that I probably will never have the chance to caddy for him like always wanted me to. {Your grandparents must be very considerate}

I wrote about this in another blog. I remember all of this - even coming across the "dirty" books my Grandfather read - one was a classic: Fanny Hill. I never admitted it in this journal, but I snuck some of my grandfather's books out of the house and read them, guiltily, on the dock, away from adult eyes, although this may have been during later visits.

February 15, 1973
In which I discuss friendships


That was stupid what I wrote yesterday.

I have decided that Lori is really the best friend I have. She understands my moods {good choice of words) as a natural thing (for I am a very moody person I'm afraid). Yesterday when I came to school with a frown and a sharp tongue she understood and didn't try to pry into what was wrong. Then she sent me a valentine card and said: (I hope you feel better).

It's thoughtful things like {You seem to have a true understanding of "friendship"} that that brings friends closer together.

I feel terrible - I received two valentines yesterday and I didn't send any. {pretty popular}

I received a letter from Pam yesterday. She said that she could hardly believe that Gary called me. She said that he must be hard-up. I wonder how I should take that.

I had a dream about Gary last night (nightmare actually).

On hindsight, if I had been a better friend to people, perhaps I would have had more of them like Lori. I don't think I really had any idea of how to be a friend at age 16.

And that Pam.

Pam moved from Elgin to a town in northern Minnesota probably around this time so the letter might have come from Minnesota. She married right out of high school, became a nurse and had children early. Her husband, a firefighter, did some stepping out during the marriage and she and he divorced about ten years or so ago. My husband and I visited her in Duluth about 15 years ago. She and I quit writing not long after the divorce. Of course I know what she meant. Gary had no interest in me so he must have been hard-up to call. Ha. Good thing she and I no longer correspond.

February 14, 1973
In which I don't want to wear boots


I'm mad. I am honestly a lunatic. I can not believe what happened today. I'm crazy. I really think I need psychiatric help. Why I am writing this because when I read this over I will remember better (worse).
It was all about wearing boots. I hate to wear boots. I had a fit. I'm crazy. I told my parents I hated them. I'm crazy. I wish I was dead. {I don't believe you. I think you are really happy to be alive}

I think I may remember this incident. I think it must have snowed and my mom or dad insisted I wear boots to school, something I obviously didn't want to do. I remember being furious and running away from my father who hit me (probably for saying I hate you to him and my mom) and I hit him back. This may have been a different time, but I suspect it was this time.

My son has left the house furious with me or my husband. I wonder how he feels after - does he feel like he is crazy and wishes he were dead? I imagine he feels similar feelings, even though he hides it under anger.

February 13, 1973
In which I have nothing to write


I don't know what to write about. I'm not in the writing mood. What did I do this weekend? I answered the phone - that's what I did. We put our car for sale and I think everyone in Elgin called up to ask about it. The person who finally bought it was my eighth grade science teacher's brother. Ick {that's odd, isn't it?}

I went shopping with Lori on Saturday to find a present for Mother. I got her a yoga book and now I found out that she doesn't like yoga anymore. The card I bought for her says Happy Birthday Mom on the outside and inside I couldn't have said much better myself - You are the only person who knows the real me... That is what we talk about after our "fights". She says that she knows the "real me".

My mother and I fought something terrible during my teen years. Part of that was my temper, but another part, I think was the fact that she had little idea of what to do with me. We were probably a lot alike in many ways, both shy for one thing. That was the cause of a few fights - she wanted me to not be like her when I grew up, too shy for my own good. So far my daughter and I get along well, still. We will see.

While I don't remember the car that was sold to the brother of my eighth grade science teacher, I do remember the teacher. His name was Mr. Ludwig and his family went way back in Elgin history. His father was a veterinarian I think It was in Mr. Ludwig's science class that I learned about the birds and the bees. It was all spelled in badly typed purple ink on paper that at first was cool to the touch and smelled of chemicals. Everything was there. I walked out of class deciding I would not marry and have children if that was required.

February 9, 1973
In which I analyze my grades


Anyway, to make a long story short, I cried all the way home. When I reached my house I put some water on to boil for tea and called Cindy to apologize for acting like a complete fool. {kind gesture}

What was wrong with me last semester? Of course in English I did all right - but in Spanish I dropped to a B (B, A, B, B-). I received a B in Gym - I really should have studied for the driver's ed tests more. I don't think Speedreading was my fault, I just can't speedread (besides I never got along with Dear Mr. Schuster). I received a B in there (B, A, B-). I received an A in geometry (A, A, A, A-) which is surprising considering I got three B's and a C in algebra last year. In biology I should have studied more. (A, B, B B-). {Your grades sound really admirable to me.}
I didn't remember how grade conscious I was until I read this. I wonder if my kids are the same. They don't obsess on it, but perhaps I didn't with my parents either. These grades would be considered bad today, I think. They are close to what my children get though, so maybe not so bad. Last night I was told that someone's son was being interviewed by a college he wanted to go to and they saw a C on his transcript and said, something like, "I see you got a C in (whatever subject it was) in your (whatever year ti was), so why am I talking to you?"

February 8, 1973
In which I am cruel

I think I almost punched Cindy yesterday. She and I had gone to our lockers after school yesterday and Kim went by "Did you make the honor roll, Dona?"

"I doubt it," I answered.

"Well, I didn't," Kim said.

I knew I was going to have a fit then. About thirty seconds later I heard a blood curdeling shriek down the hall. Then I heard footsteps that I knew only could be Cindy J's - klip klop klip klop running down the hall.

"Dona! Dona!" she screamed.

"I know, don't tell me," I said and covered my ears with my hands.

"I made the high honor roll!" she told me anyway.

"Shut-up, I know," and I pushed her away.

"How did you know?" she asked

"I really didn't know, but I suspected.

(to be continued)

Another post that makes me cringe. How could I have been so selfish? Obviously Cindy was excited and happy. Why did I have to be so mean and not congratulate her?

Wednesday, February 23, 2005

February 7, 1973
In which I read Dickens


I have just started A Tale of Two Cities. I guess it is about the French revolution. Everyone who has read it has told me it isn't so good - but maybe it is. Anyway - last year I became very interested in the French revolution because I read The Queen's Confession by Victoria Holt. In sixth grade Penny and I liked stories about Marie Antionette because she was beheaded (ick). Now I really like stories about her time because ia mi interested din her. I am trying to get a picture from her eyes (The Queen's Confession) and from the people's eyes (hopefully A Tale of Two Cities).

The book begins weirdly - I don't really understand it now - but I'm sure I will when I get into it further. {what optimism}

I remember reading both books mentioned in this entry. I was a big fan of Victoria Holt aka: Jean Plaidy aka: someone else. I should re-read A Tale of Two Cities though. I remember liking it, but am sure I missed a lot.

Penny was a friend from the neighborhood. She and I used to have séances in our basement bathroom (the only room in the house that could be darkened enough for our meetings with the spirit world). We tried to talk to the spirits of Lenin and Mary Jo Kopechne. The first because we had just learned about him in history class and the second because we wondered if she could tell us any answers about her death which happened a few years before this entry. Just now looking at the wikipedia entry for her, she shares a birthday with my daughter.

Tuesday, February 22, 2005

February 6, 1973
In which I have a dilemma

What am I supposed to do? If I quit working on the yearbook I will have quit my only "outside interest" and if I keep on working I will go home with a headache everyday and I will lose all of my friends. Already people whom I was very good friend with last year ignore me when I say "hi". As a matter of fact -- last Friday after Carol Sha's "birthday party" (which I couldn't go to because I had a class eighth hour) I went down to the nurse's office to wish her happy birthday when I was leaving I was walking out with Carol Shi and Sally and Mary. They, for some reason walked ahead of me and giggled to themselves but Sally kept walking faster. I don't know if they were snubbing me -- but It sure felt like it.

I worked so hard to get where I am -- to stop being so shy like I used to be. (before I met Cindy). I can't lose it - It seems that for every step "higher" I take my happiness it takes 2 steps lower.
I don't remember this at all. The fact is, I was still shy and continued to be shy until after college. I don't even remember Carol Sha** or Mary.

The thing I'll never gorget though, is what Cindy did. One day last week when I was looking for Mr. Schuster to ask him about the Debate team's copy for the yearbook I wen to the lunch table where Cindy and Carol and Sally and "our other chums" ate. I asked a girl who is on the debate team if she could tell me what they had done that year. She said she would and went to a different table. I had the pictures from the yearbook with me and Cindy wanted to see them. I told her that she had already seen them. She came over to where Candy and I were working and started to laugh and pull the picture s out of my notebook. She laughted some more and went back to the table. Sally came over then and giggled. I asked her why everyone was lauging (for when Cindy went back the whole table broke out in giggles) she said that Cindy just wanted to make me mad and told everyone "Watch me make Dona mad". Well she got her wish and ever since then I feel uncomfortable talking to her. {understandable}

Cindy and I used to be best friends -- what happened?

{Dona - you have a knack of being able to be honset with your thoughts. Your "innosence" is well=appreciated (don't EVER let anyone tell you otherwise!!)}
This I do remember. When Cindy [aka Cynthia] called me in Pittsburgh this is the only time I remembered where she made me angry on puropse.

February 2, 1973
In which I think about my mortality and am a prude


Lori and I were arguing about whether doctors should tell the patients that they have cancer or not. Lori's grandmother has cancer and the doctor told her. Lori thinks that everyone else should know before that pers her grandma. I think different -- but I really don't know because I haven't been told that I have so long to live and I wouldn't know what I'd do. {It's such a difficult decision to make} I think though that that if I were dying I'd want to know and not have anyone else know. I'd want people to treat me just the same {good pt} and not know that I wasn't going to be around any much longer. Death is something I hate to talk about because it seems so far away into the future -- but it is really sitting next to me I suppose. {you're very observant}

I have made everyone think I am a goody-goody. Because when someone swears I cover my mouth and look innocent. Like in Cerulean when someone swears everyone looks at me and expects to cover my mouth. In geometry yesterday Mr. Klatt was mad and swore at someone. Kim tells told me after class that when he swore he looked at me to see if I was "disappointed" in him because I make such a big deal of not swearing. When someone talks about sex I look innocent and say "I don't know what you are talking about". I have become a stereotype of myself. {no, innocence can be an admirable quality}

I still think death is far into the future, but it is much closer now than it was when I was 16. Talking about it is not so bad these days though.

Mr. Klatt was an interesting person. He had Mr. Jordan, Cindy's dad, as a teacher so we had a small connection that way. He also was balding and had a handlebar mustache. He looked different from most men of the time. Kind of creepy really.

February 1, 1973
In which I am mad and sad and glad


Oh boy am I mad! The first time I corrected a paper honestly and didn't think about what the other person would say I got it right in the face from her and someone else. I didn't think it was a very good paper. The thoughts were all muddled. She has graded my paper with what I have thought to be unfairly many times and I didn't make a fuss about it. That's why her and I never get along. We both are stubborn but she is more so -- and snotty about it.

Last night my tears flowed again about Narnia -- but this time it was about the author. I was all set to write him a letter or even someday meet him (or call him up like Holden was always wanting to do) and I found out that he died - ten years ago - {oh you did find out}On November 22, 1963 (the same day President Kennedy was shot assassinated. I found an article about C. S. Lewis and cried. But he isn't really gone - he lives in his books for me. {good point. Many authors and great people are truly immortalized by their good deeds}

4:15 p.m. Thurs

I am in a writing mood. As I walked home from school I noticed that it was cold - but not really. I have been noticing lots of things like that lately. I must be realizing what life is all about all of a sudden - it is a crazy sensation. Fro the first time in my life I really want to live. Live - not just for tomorrow, not in yesterday - but for today - this exact minute.

On the issue of the paper I graded - I don't think teachers have students grade each other's papers anymore, at least I hope not. What were teachers thinking back then?

I don't remember finding out about Lewis' death, but I remember writing about it in this journal.

I wish I had kept that feeling of living for the moment. I spent too much of my life looking forward or backward and little of it in the here-and-now.

January 31, 1973
In which I give advice


Lori's grandmother has the same thing that Grandma Green and Grandpa Patrick had. A tumor in her rectum. I told lory that she had better pray because it is a very bad thing. She had better hope that the tumor isn't malignant. Grandpa's was and he died. Grandma's was and she survived. Lori doesn't seem too upset about it though. The reality hasn't struck her yet.

I found a saying that I have been thinking about for a while and it helps me when I don't know where to start a theme or when I clean my room:

The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step.
-- Lao - Tse

{I know the well quoted saying, very true, don't you agree?}

I feel embarrassed now the way I told Lori how terrible colon cancer was. I cringe now when I hear people telling others things like this. I suppose I felt that I was the expert on the subject because it had struck two of my grandparents.

The strikeout in the entry may not be exact. The first two words are "and she" but I am only guessing the last was "survived".

January 30, 1973
In which I analyze my temperament


Lori is beginning to make me angry. Everything is so terrible to her. She is so much like her mother, she worries way too much.

I have a quick temper. I finally admit it. Knew it all along but I didn't think it was bad to get mad so fast. I had better watch out because I could lose friends that way. I got angry at Cindy yesterday just because she stayed overnight at Carol's. I guess the reason I was angry was because she never wants to stay over night at my house -- oh well, I guess I had better call Carol more often since I never see her anymore -- we were best friends last year. I remember I would always tell her what an ogre Gary was. Such memories. He is an ogre. {good honesty expressed}

I was jealous. Why didn't I admit it then? I had forgotten that Cindy and Carol were friends too. They were very different.

January 29, 1973
In which I clarify a previous post


As I was saying on Friday and what I was getting at was that a person could stand talking to someone they simply hate and have a civil conversation with them.

I got mad at Cindy for no reason at all today.

{Enjoyed reading your
Journal, Dona. Keep up
the interesting flow of thoughts!}

I'm wondering now if there actually was a reason I got mad at Cindy all the time - the fact that she knew the right buttons to push and got pleasure out of seeing the reaction as I mentioned she confessed years later.

Monday, February 21, 2005

January 26, 1973
In which the lights go out


When I got to school today I noticed that the windows were all dark. I didn't really think much of it though. When I walked through the door the halls were nosier than usual and much darker as I walked farther into the heart of the school the halls were getting so dark I could hardly see. As I turned the first corner I ran into someone and a voice started laughing (for now I couldn't see my hand a foot in front of my face - it was so dark). I said, "Excuse me" and the voice said, "That's ok". "What happened? -- Did the lights go or something?" I wanted to know. "Yes, they are out all over school," the voice replied and I stood there talking to the voice. I decided that I had better find my way to the door to get to my locker. I began towards the general direction of where I remembered the door was, thinking all the time how terrible it would be to be blind.

What is remarkable now is that this person could have been popular and I would have not known. I remember this day and this conversation with a voice. Not too unlike the Internet where all you have are words and no sight.

January 25, 1973
In which I sweep up broken glass, walk with Suzi Q and and Mr. Shuster says "hi"


Today is starting off great! Lori dropped her mirror on the locker room floor and I had to run all around the school with Miss Mauffly to find a broom and dust pan. Cindy was right Miss Mauffly is nice. When we got the broom Lori and I swept the glass up and kept on finding other pieces. We were late for typing.

I actually walked to school With Susan Q. I haven't talked to her for four years and all of a sudden she wants to walk with me -- I guess I did hold sort of a grudge though. I will never know why we ceased to be friends.

Mr. Shuster said Hi to me last night. I almost dropped dead. I figured after he read my evaluation he would hate me.

Susan Q. lived behind me on the next block. She started at my school in 5th grade and began dating a boy named Steve H. that year. They went steady until they graduated, but didn't marry. Steve's brother, Terry, teased me unmercifully. Not sure about this grudge I held though.

Mr. Shuster was one of my teachers in 9th grade. I took a lot of English classes - his was speed reading. He knew nothing about the subject -- was learning as he taught (he told us this the first day). His method of grading involved a lot of student participation. I was not comfortable participating, especially since this was a class full of "popular" kids. One of the assignments was to write questions about the text. I did my homework and was assigned to a group of upperclassmen who were also jocks and their girlfriends. They took my questions and since I was too shy to speak up I got a D for the assignment. I ran out of the room crying and went to the head of the English department. I got a B or A after she talked to him and he gave me tests to do instead of presentations. It was rumored that he dated high school girls.

January 24, 1973
In which I think about Narnia


English is my favorite subject. But when the teacher has the class analyze books -- well. If I ever write a book -- which I am hoping to do -- I plan on making it clear to the reader (and English teachers) that there is absolutely nothing to analyze). {Fantastic!}

The sky looks so pretty today. On the way to school I looked around and became dizzy with a kind of happiness I can't explain. The world is so close to what Narnia must be like. I can't wait 'til spring. I don't think I'll ever get spring fever -- Narnia fever is more like it -- because in the spring the colors and pure beauty of the Earth must be closest to Narnia than any other time of the year. {Your intense delight with the book by C. S. Lewis is well put in your writing.}

I remember that walk to school and seeing my hometown in a different way. It must have been a January thaw or something, but it is still with me, in my mind's eye.

Sunday, February 20, 2005

January 23, 1973


This is the beginning of my English part of my journal. I had to find this notebook under my bed. I haven't written in it for for or five months - except for last night.

I can't believe that Cindy is actually getting better grades than I am. She is getting an A in Spanish. I'm only getting a B. She is getting an A in Biology and I am getting a B in that too. Yesterday in Spanish I got mad at her because she got a better grade on the final. Mr. Barth knew I was mad so he kept on calling on me.

Oh - I'm going to actually take swimming lessons. Mother said it was the best news she heard all day. Carol, Cindy and I are going. {Great exercise!}

I have decided to get mom The Wisdom of Insecurity because she liked it so. (for her birthday)

Cindy was usually a worse student than I, or at least got worse grades. I remember feeling really angry about her getting better grades. I guess I felt that there was one way in which I excelled in our friendship and that was school and when she surpassed me in that I was angry.

I'm not sure in what class I read The Wisdom of Insecurity. The name is odd and I am surprised it is still in print. I think I didn't read it, but was supposed to.

January 22, 1973
In which I begin writing for an audience and discuss Narnia

For the next several entries I will be adding comments made by my 9th grade English Teacher, Mary Sliger. They will be in red and inserted into the text of the entry with {} marks.

From now on I will be keeping this journal every day. Miss Sliger (my English teacher) has told us to keep a journal and write in it the last ten minutes of every day in English. She doesn't realize that last year I wa so happy to get Mrs. Hoke for English because she had people keep journals but she never did with us - so this is really my dream - to let someone else read my thoughts without grading my spelling or grammar. {That makes the whole assignment worthwhile! I'm so happy you're happy.}

I have so much to write about. To get one thing off my mind - I went skating with Gary. He called me a couple of Thursdays ago and asked if I wanted to go. I was sostunned at his call I said yes and disaster struck. He did the same thing to me as he did a hundred times last year - pretended to enjoy my company but skated with all the girls under the roof except me. On the way home I told him I never wanted to see him or hear from him again as long as I lived. Now almost every time I think about him I cry! {I know the feeling - time will take care of it.}

Grandpa had his foot amputated. Ever since it happened I have had nightmares every night. Then I find myself in his arms crying. {That is sad, but please try to remember the saying about the rose bushes}

We had Cinder spayed and declawed. She seems like a "new person" now.

I just finished The Chronicles of Narnia by C. S. Lewis. I cried and cried until I had no tears left and then I cried some more. I want to meet Mr. Lewis so much. I have looked everywhere to see if he is still living. The librarian said she thinks he is and Miss Sliger doesn't know. I wish I knew someone who read them so I could compare my feelings and thoughts about Narnia with them. I wonder if Heaven (I'm not too sure I believe in Heaven) is like Narnia.{Very interesting.} Maybe it is Narnia. Whatever, it is - fact or fantasy - I love it very much.

I remember being excited that someone was going to read and comment in my journal. I would have loved blogging back in 1972, wouldn't I? I think Mary Sliger was ahead of her time. She was just out of college and very pretty. She had very long brown hair that reached past her waist. I think she had a lot of innovative ideas that were not always welcomed at the school. My parents went to parent night and said that one of the parents of a child in her class was on the school board and verbally questioned some of her teaching methods. I guess Miss Sliger calmly explained her objectives which left the school board member quiet.

My love for Narnia has continued to this day. I've taught it in schools - religious and secular - and have even corresponded with Lewis' step son, Douglas Gresham in emails. I thought I discovered the religous me at one time, but it turned out to just be me getting some attention in an email list I belonged to. Years later I visited Lewis' church and gravesite as well as his home, the Kilns.

Narnia is now going to be a movie and I've been participating in a "fan bulletin board" online. It is odd to see so many people who loved Narnia as much as I. Where were they in 1973? (well, most were not born yet). I am not expecting the film to capture the Narnia I loved, but do welcome it as a chance to see it through someone else's eyes.

Ms Sliger

Saturday, February 19, 2005

September 20, 1972
In which I enter high school

Hi, I haven't written for the longest time. I have been so busy. We have homework in Spanish everyday. It is getting quite boring.

I haven't fallen in love yet this year. Well, not really. There is a cute boy though - I think his name is Ron - he is in my Spanish and geometry class.

Last Saturday (sábado in Spanish)

Back when I was in school we didn't get as much homework as kids these days to so getting homework nightly was a big shock. I have no idea who this "Ron" character was.

I am surprised I didn't write more about being in high school.

August 23, 1972
In which I turn 16

Well I don't feel older! I can hardly believe it! I am sixteen years old.

Ahh, sixteen. Lucky girl.

August 10, 1972
In which we take a road trip

Heaven forgive me for not writing sooner. I just haven't been in the mood. I had a very exciting vacation. We went to The Dells, Baraboo and the Milwalkee zoo. At the Dells we first rode the ducks, then we ate at this place called The House of Embers. We stayed at a motel called the Sahara Inn.

The next day we went on the upper and lower Dells. We also went to see the "wonder spot". We stayed at the Sahara Inn that night too.

The next morning we set out to Baraboo. There we saw the Circus World Museum.

I remember this vacation. I think we went with my parent's friends, the Pasholks, but that could have been another time. Wisconsin Dells is an extremely comercialised and touristy place. It is built around some geographic oddities called the Dells.

Baraboo is even more memorable to me. It was there I began my dislike for clowns. The museum put on a circus show several times daily and we got in late and didn't have a seat so we stood by the opening to the tent. The clown act ended and one of the clowns came over, stood by my dad and said, "Hell of a way to make a living". That in itself is not a reason to dislike clowns, but it ruined the magic for me. Clowns were supposed to be happy or tragic, but not dislike their occupation.

Friday, February 18, 2005

July 19, 1972
In which I leave Chetek.

Well, I left chetek yesterday.

I seem really broken up about it. And my handwriting is back to normal for a while.

July 12, 1972
In which I talk about a boy. Again.

Oh forget what I wrote June 26.

There is a real cute boy up here. He has to be at least 16 because he drives. And I think he is 18 because he can drink. I don't know his name or where he lives or anything about him - except that he likes the song Sealed With a Kiss. So do I!

Chetek, being in Wisconsin, had many bars and my family, including grandparents, frequented them. I remember seeing this guy in Millie's tavern which I think was called the Indianhead Bar. Millie had a chicken dinner once a week and I often got to help make the dressing.

Another bar I remember was the B & B, where I had a crush on the bartender.

June 26, 1972
In which I begin a story

The first paragraph of this entry is written in a different hand. I wrote it, but the writing is in print and kind of slanted backwards. I will simulate it by putting it in a different fontsize.

11:00 pm
I just had a brainstorm! (I think). I am going to write a story about Chetek. I will either call it Chetek, Life in a Small Town or Who's Who in Chetek. It will go something like this:

Every town and city has excitement but the special things seem to be more magnified in a small town. One small town I am thinking of is named Chetek. It is in the Northwestern part of Wisconsin. To begin with lets see about the former Mayor. His first name is Jim.

I have no idea what happened with this mayor named Jim. Probably some scandal that has been lost to history.

June 19, 1972
In which I read my previous entries

Ah, such memories - so warm and inviting (well most of them). What I mean is I just read this "book". The warmest memories are about Gary. I can't go on living in memories though. I have to go on to the future. I think I am on the right track now though. Just act myself (only a little older) and let things happen.
Even though much of this sounds melodramatic, I am sure, at the time, it was very serious business. I remember writing this post after reading the journal.

Thursday, February 17, 2005

June 18, 1972
In which I am sullen and resolve to bear (not to be confused to bare) it all

I haven't written in a week because I haven't had anything to write. Nothing has happened except four trees were uprooted by a tornadoish wind.

Jack and Ginny came up today. They brought a letter from Sally. Sally didn't say anything about Gary, and it's just as well she didn't. I don't think I am going to write him like I thought I would. It just wouldn't be right -- would it?

The weather has been rotten, I have been feeling rotten -- now with Ginny and Jack here, I really feel rotten -- why I don't know -- but I do. Probably cos I feel so ugly. I want to go home. -- I miss everyone, especially Cindy. I have to go in now because Grandma and Ginny are coming.

Ginny just said, "Writing again?" and I closed this. Then she said, "oh her diary." She doesn't have to make something out of it. Maybe if I just act like Miss Dove and bear along with everything. I hope so. Keep smiling and keep your head up Dona!

Jack and Ginny are my aunt and uncle. Ginny is my mom's youngest sister and my most favorite of all my aunts. When I was upset with my mom I used to pretend that Ginny was really my mother but had to give me up for adoption. That would have been pretty difficult since Ginny was only 11 when I was born, but I still liked that fantasy. I do remember writing the bit about Jack and Ginny arriving and being annoyed that Ginny made the comments about my journal writing. I figure it was just me beeing a sullen teenager, nothing personal towards my aunt.

I must have either read the book or seen the movie, Good Morning, Miss Dove, which I barely remember now, but a quick Internet search tells me is about a beloved but strict teacher who is so devoted to her students she works dispite being in pain until she finally asks a student to get a doctor. She dies at the end, I think, but her students all come to school and wave at her outside her hospital room window. It is a real tear-jerker I believe.

And yes, I realize that the sentence about Miss Dove in my journal was a fragment. :-)

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

June 11, 1972
In which I visit my Grandparents in Wisconsin.

Well, I just said goodbye to my family. I won't see them for about a month. I want to cry - but I can't. Right now I am sitting on the pontoon boat. I haven't met a boy yet and something tells me I won't. Oh well.

I wonder if I can really be in love. Aren't I too young? But everything tells me I do love Gary -- what torture I am going through. I bet though everyone must feel like this at times like this. I had really better get going back to the house. Grandma might get worried. Oh -- Kevin was awful upset that I was staying and he wasn't. Before they left I told him that I was going to kiss him -- he ran, of course, but fell and let me kiss him. Maybe he will miss me?

I spent several summers with my Grandparents. Or it seems as if I did. Maybe it was only a few. I enjoyed that time with my Grandmother and Grandfather Green. They had a cabin in Chetek, WI. I wrote more about it in my other blog.

Kevin, my younger brother, was born when I was nearly 7. We got along sometimes, but usually ignored each other since our ages were so far apart. It wasn't until we both had kids around the same time that we took an interest in each other's lives.

June 8, 1972
In which school ends and I die of delight

Well, school's out. I have to write this fast because I want to remember it all. After school Sally and Gary walked past. I said, "bye Sally" and waved at Gary. Sally came over to say good-bye and Gary came with. "Here is my chance," I thought. "Will you sign my yearbook?

He needed a pen so I let use my purple pen (Flair TM) and he signed it. He said, "Where do you want me to?" I showed him a space that was empty and said, "I saved it just for you."

He said, "Wasn't that nice of you?" Then he signed it. When he got done he gave me back my pen and we couldn't find the top. He still had it in his hand. I told him thank you and he asked me if I was going to the pool this summer. I said maybe. Then he left and I saw what he wrote.

To the girl I almost went with.
-- Gary C.

I think died of pure delight right there and then. I was so hapy I cried and Cindy thought it was because of missing the school. I let her believe that. My day (and year) is complete. I thought I hated him -- I love him!

This is one of the entries that makes me cringe. While I do remember how I felt at the time, I am embarrassed to read it now.

June 6, 1972
In which I am melodramatic

Oh my, am I in a bunch of trouble. Sally told me that Gary called her and asked her to meet him last Sunday. When they got together he began "making out" with her. I wrote her a note and said I didn't believe her. She got mad and wrote back to me. Then I got mad and wrote back to her and now she isn't talking to me. Then I asked Pam if Gary ever got funny with her. Pam didn't understand so I said, "Like kissing or necking". Pam said yes and asked why -- The stupid nut as I am told her what Sally said and Pam got mad because they weren't even broken up on Sunday. Now if Pam tells Gary, Gary will tell Sally and Sally will hate me more and Gary will too. -- A boy I once loved -- I am scared of him now -- I only hope he doesn't call me. (or do I?)

What can I say? I led a sheltered life. I had just found out where babies came from the year before and swore that I would never do something as gross as that. I suppose I thought that boyfriends were like girlfriends but more of a status symbol. Or something.

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

June 5, 1972
In which Sally gets Gary after Pam dumps him

9:45 pm

I haven't written in the longest time. I was upset to write because Jeff read this. I could have killed him -- I really enjoyed it though. I think he likes me.

The party was last Friday. It was O.K. Pam and Gary were hardly together and today (Monday) Pam broke up with him! But Sally moved in right away and I had no chance. Sally said that he tried to kiss her and began necking. I don't believe that one bit. If he did that to me I sould slap him. I still like him and Sally is making me mad. She called tonight and began pouring out her problems.

We got our yearbooks Friday. Jerry P. signed mine and added "Sex is fun and so are you" and "By the way you are a real son of a bitch." I was so mad at him.

It is interesting reading this now that I have two middle-schoolers. I listen to what Clare tells me about her friends and boys and school but it seems so foreign to me. Now I realize I was there doing the same things as she does.

I met Sally my first year of middle school (we called it junior high back then). She and my friend Cindy knew each other when Cindy lived on the east side of town. They were in elementary school together. Cindy told me about Sally's eye when Cindy and I were sitting in the Auditorium during the first few days at Kimball Junior High while a teacher strike was going on.

Sally developed cancer in her eye when she was very young, maybe three years old. The doctors were able to get rid of the cancer, but they also had to remove her eye and eyelid. She had a plastic eye that did not look at all real. Her parents ran a department store in Elgin called Joseph Spiess. Sally and I had a long friendship. We went to England together even. Sally's oldest sister was an actress and model. I lost touch with Sally after high school. She married and moved to Indiana. Sally died of cancer in 1985 on the day of our tenth high school reunion.

May 25, 1972
In which I feel poorly and write like a 18th century governess

10:30 am

I feel so sick today. I guess I am just tired. I have a report on ghosts for world cultures . I am feeling too icky lately to really do anything. It is really weird. I am getting all of my wishes about Gary that I wanted a few months back. He even knows my combination to my locker - "what larks".

I have a big weekend ahead of me. Tomorrow night I am going to Lori's slumber party, Saturday Cindy might stay over night, Sunday is Bowes picnic. Monday is nothing and Tuesday I am going to have Bonnie over and we can go to the carnival. I want my summer to be like that too. I want to be doing something everyday or at least be looking forward to something every day. Lori can't swim either -- so we can go there together. I hope I meet a boy this summer!

  • My daughter is also interested in ghosts. I forgot about my interest until just now.
  • What larks? More of my Victorian romance novels coming out in my writing.
  • I never really learned to swim, although I did take lessons with another friend.

May 22, 1972
In which I go to an ice-cream social and do something foolish

10:20 am

I had a busy weekend. Friday Cindy, Carol and I went to the Highland School Ice-Cream Social, McDonalds and the Huff School Carnival. I had an O.K. time. Saturday I went to the dentist and walked home, to the library and was bored, and Lum's for dinner. Sunday I went to our family reunion at Uncle Buddy's house. There I also had an O.K. time. We played this game where two people throw a ball to each other while two other people run back and forth. We played this with Richard B., Ruth's fiance.

Oh! At the Ice-Cream social I saw a lady with a name-tag. "Something Petry". I said, "are you Brenda's mother?" She said, "yes I am." I said, "Oh, then you are Marvin's mother also. Oh boy - that's Marvin Petry's mother." That was so dumb.

Highland was my elementary school, Huff was the school where my best friend's father worked as a 6th grade teacher. Funny how I only ever had an "O.K. time".

May 18, 1972
In which I wear a dorky shoe and socks combo and my crush talks to me and I have a squirt gun fight.

10:00 am

What a day! Well at least a morning. I put on my old icky shoes today -- with bobby socks. I planned on changing into my gym tennis shoes. Well I hadn't planned on them getting all soggy in gym -- so I had to call home and tell my mother to bring my brown shoes. It was when I was in study hall that it dawned on me as to how It would look with brown tennis shoes and white bobby socks!!

10:00 pm

12 hours later: What a day! This time I really mean it. When mom brought my shoes I didn't even wear them. Then in study hall I just about had to stand up. In algebra I had a paper (test) with only one stupid mistake. how maddening. I told Pam to buy my lunch milk for lunch because I would be late.

Gary was with her before lunch. I rushed down and changed shoelaces. I got to lunch finally and ate a rushed meal.

Then in World Cultures my button popped off and I had to go into the sewing room to sew it back on.
In English I forgot my book and had to go to my locker and get it. I stopped off at the library and talked to Mindy.

Now for the climax: I stopped into the Home EC room to give Pam her 4 ¢ and when I came out Greg L. had Gary C.'s head pinned under his arm. I shouted, "Kill him, Kill him!" He (Gary) looked around and said, "Who said that? Oh it's you Patrick!" I laughed and went on to science. After science when I went to my locker I said "Hi Pam" and she said the same thing back (only with "Dona" instead of "Pam" of course). Just then Gary came up and started wagging his finger at me (index) "You, you, you!"

"What?" I asked.

"What?" Pam asked.

"I just about had my head in a locker because of her."

I laughed and Pam demanded to know more.

Gary said, "Hit her, hit her," and I backed away. Then he explained it to her.

So my day was complete.

Yesterday was a nice day. Mike S. came over and we had a squirt gun fight. I came outside with a water balloon and Mike stole it and broke it over my head. By the end of the night I was sopping. I also made friends with one of the friends on the corner -- Carl F. He called me by my name today. I have to make friends with everyone over there.

Mike was the son of my parent's friends. We had known each other since birth. He even ate my playdoh during a tea party that included Mike, my brown bear, my baby doll and me. I served red playdoh cookies and warm water in a tea pot. Mike at the cookies. His mother didn't laugh. Although I never told anyone, nor my journal, I think my first kiss ever came from Mike. I didn't count it because was a few years younger than me, but that evening with the water balloons and squirt guns he cornered me in the kitchen and kissed me.

Carl F. of "over there" lived in the low income housing that went up on the corner lot of the street on which I lived. My parents fought the city in putting the prefab homes there. There used to be a huge Victorian mansion there, empty most of the time, but when families lived there they smelled bad and were obviously very poor. Carl F.'s parents were both hearing impaired. I remember wondering how all their children (they had at least five boys) learned to talk. The oldest boy became a police officer.

May 17, 1972
In which I take a test and get mad at Cindy.


Just finished a test in algebra. Whoops! I've got to do an assignment.


I am in homeroom now. I got mad at Cindy before because she said my hair was too short for pigtails. I know that I was foolish to get mad -- but

I guess I got mad at Cindy a lot.

May 15, 1972
In which I write about the museum, go to a funeral and hear about another death

0:45 am

Forget what I wrote May 13 -- I was in a rotten mood.

This was about the longest weekend I have ever had. Friday night I went to sleep early so I could get up early on Saturday. O.K. then -- Saturday I went to the museum. When Dad dropped me off at school at 8:15 another car pulled up. I didn't know who it was until he got out of the car. He said "hi" and then waited for me to catch up with him. We walked around the school together. That made my day.

Sandy complained at the museum almost all of the time. She wanted to do this, she didn't want to do that, she was tired, she was hungry, she was bored. It was enough to drive a body mad and to top it off Jean L. was with us all morning. She went with some other girls the rest of the day.

When I got home I was so tired I could drop. Mom started firing things for me to do in my face. I was in the process of making a salad and mother came up and got mad. She sent me to my room and there I wrote my May 13 entry.

That night was the visitation at the funeral parlor for Grandma Nielson. The priest gave a touching sermon about her. It talked with Bonnie for the rest of the time we were there and when she left I went over and sat by Jim. He is really in love. I was talking about school and he asked me if I was on the girls track team. I said I wasn't and asked if his girlfriend was. He said yes and his face had the eeriest glow...

12:40 pm The bell rang when I was writing [the] last entry.

As I was saying, Jim is really in love. He wants to move out!!

Then the next day I had to get up early again to go to the funeral. When we got to the church I had to wait upstairs for Bonnie. While I was waiting a boy of about seventeen came in. I was in the very same room as him! I suppose he was my cousin, but it's nice to dream!!

The funeral as a whole was boring, but funerals are not supposed to be real lively, I guess. They had delicious food though.

Then this morning I got up and went through the daily routine of getting dressed and such. At about 7:30 I heard on the radio, "A 15 year old girl was fatally injured in a two car crash..." I listened for who the girl was, "The victim -- Landa G...." That struck me right in the face. I couldn't believe it. Laughing, gay, warmhearted Landa -- dead. Everyone liked her.

Lots here: My cousin Jim...the girl he was in love with was in a terrible car accident in which she was severely burned. She recovered, but their relationship didn't. Jim was my closest cousin in age and probably in spirit. He didn't marry until he was in his thirties, I think. About four years ago my mother told me that his mother, confided in her that Jim was an alcoholic. That next Christmas I wanted to visit with him at his mother's house on Christmas Eve, but ended up getting lost trying to find her house. Jim died the next February (I think it was February) of an overdose of alcohol. He had just been released from detox and drank himself to death. Last summer I visited his grave. Until I actually saw the gravesite with his name on it, I guess I had not believed it to be true.

Jean L at the museum: This was like kicking the dog. Here I was among the underclass in junior high school. I should have had more compassion than to act the same way the popular girls did with us. Poor Jean The only thing wrong with her was a bit of leftover "baby fat" and a really amazing imagination. My dislike for her stemmed from elementary school. I really don't know why.

Landa: Looks like I even lied to myself in these journals. I didn't really like this girl. She was popular and I was not. She sat in the front row on the far left in my 9th grade English class. The day we heard she was killed we all stared at her desk. Finally the teacher made the row move up. The girl who had to sit in Landa's desk cried and cried. I think the teacher should have left the desk empty. After my grandfather died the following year I discovered that he was buried a few yards away from Landa.

Oh, and the boy who got out of the car when I did when I was dropped off for the science museum field trip was Warren M. Another crush of mine.

May 13, 1972
In which my mother bugs me

5:21 pm

Just got home from the museum. I am so tired. Mom told me to make a salad and I was. She started bugging me about things and I asked, "are we going to church?"

My 13 year old keeps a journal sometimes. I wonder how many of these kinds of entries are in hers. I really don't know what it was about, but it must have been important enough for me to write about it.

May 12, 1972
In which I lose a relative and make a wish

12:40 pm

Yesterday when I came home from school I found out that my Great Grandma Nielsen died. She was 98 years old. I must go to the funeral. Tomorrow is the visitation and I can't make it. I am going to the museum.

My leg is really bothering me. It hurts so much to walk down the steps. I think mom had better make me an appointment with Dr. Winters.

Mrs. Peterson is subbing for Mrs. Bennett. I wish she would sub for a teacher I have sometime. I like her so much.

My Great Grandma Nielson was born in Denmark. She thought she would live forever. I remember a few years before this entry when we went to visit her at her granddaughter's home, she gave my mother some needlework pot holders. Then she turned to me and told me (at age 12 or so) that she would make me some for my wedding. She was the oldest person I knew...about 95 at the time. I was amazed that she thought she would be alive when I got married.

Mrs. Peterson did end up subbing for a teacher I had, as a long term sub. Mrs. Peterson was an old friend of my mother's and when she gave me A+ on all of my writing in the English class she subbed in I called her on it, asking if she was giving me these good grades because she was a friend of the family. I think I hurt her feelings because then she put a - after the A instead of a +.

May 11, 1972
In which Cindy makes me mad and Mom gets sicker

10:45 am

Cindy makes me mad sometimes. Today in the library I was talking to Betsy about Marve and Cindy came up to the desk. I quieted Betsy down and Cindy said, "Well, gosh,". Then I went back and sat down. When Cindy came over I told her that I didn't like to tell her things because she keeps on bringing it up. She said that whenever I saw Mark Rhode I said, "Look who's over there." That is a lie! I do not. She pushes me into Paul Hurley doesn't she? Besides, I don't like Marve anymore; I never really did. I guess I just haven't gotten completely over Gary yet.

Mom is getting sicker all the time. I hope she doesn't have to go to the hospital. Cindy thinks that she should -- what does she know?

Today Mr Tombough is going to talk to us about the science trip to the Museum of Science and Industry this Saturday. We will leave at 8:15 am and return at 4:30 pm.

Cindy was my best friend from 7th through part of 11th grade. Then she got into the early graduation track and felt more like she belonged with the class ahead of me. The last year I really felt close to her was our Junior year, but it was never the same. We kept in contact for a few years after high school. After that, her father and I would send Christmas cards to each other and he would let me know how Cindy (now Cynthia) was doing. She married (I was invited to the wedding, but it was in Maine and I didn't attend), and had a daughter. A few years ago I lost contact with her father and discovered that he had died. A couple of years ago I located Cynthia's husband on the Internet and emailed him, wondering if he could tell Cynthia I was sorry about her father. He emailed me back, telling me that Cynthia spoke of me often, and that he would forward my email to her. She never returned a message. Not that I really expected it...she was always pretty bad with written correspondence.

One more thing. About 20 years ago I got a card from her. She was going to stop over in Pittsburgh on a flight from Maine to Hawaii (where she lived). Could I meet her there for a few hours? I said I would, but on the day she was due to arrive we had a terrible snowstorm and I couldn't drive to the airport. We did speak on the telephone and she said that something had been bothering her for years and she wanted to tell me she was sorry for being so mean to me in school. She knew the right buttons to push to make me angry, and she said she liked to push them to see my reaction. I wished she had not told me that, I didn't realize it. Kind of ruined my memories of our friendship.

My mom's "sickness" was probably hypothyroidism with which she was diagnosed and successfully treated for a few years later. She is fine and still healthy today.

1:06 pm

I just had a sad thought. There are only seventeen more days left of school. That means only seventeen days to see Gary. It really makes me sad. I have a lump in the pit of my stomach -- oh well, I have to get over him someday. This is getting real dramatic.

Um, no shit Sherlock (as my daughter wishes she could say), this is getting dramatic.

May 10, 1972
In which Gary looks at me and I see Jeff Smoking

12:55 pm

Wow! Half of Kimball is gone today. Kim and I were the only ones at our lunch table. I wish Gary would please quit looking at me. I don't know if he likes me or not?? Maybe he is just saving me for when he and Pam break-up or something. Or is he searching for something in my face, to tell him something about me. I really think that I don't like him anymore. Well, not in the way that I did at one time.

Jeff is something else. I remember in sixth grade I had the biggest crush on him. Now he makes me sick. He is such a...a...there is no word to describe him. I saw him and this other kid -- Mike Sennet or something smoking! Smoking!?? Why Jeff? Why? I guess I still have some feeling for him even if it's only pity.

Jeff was someone I ended up having a crush on for years. Last I heard of him, he was a thief at Zayre Department Store where I worked. His parents were well off, but for some reason he liked to steal.

Here is a school photograph of Jeff that I must have gotten because I was on the yearbook staff.

I sure had my opinions back then...smoking was one of them. My parents smoked until I was in third grade or so, then both quit. It was not something I ever had any desire to do, but I finally stopped disliking people who did.

May 9, 1972
In which I begin a journal, miss school, and dream about Poles

10:40 am
I have decided to keep a journal instead of a diary. Diaries have printed dates and when I don't write for a while I just waste all of that paper.

I ruined my glorious record -- I missed a day of school. Sunday was the walk for development (I only walked twenty out of the thirty miles and I have two great blisters).

I remember writing this entry in physical science class in 9th grade. My friend, Sandy, filled in the word "journal" because I was not sure how to spell it. My love of English novels is apparent in my use of "great" instead of large or huge.

12:30 pm

I had a terrible dream last night. I dreamed that all of the Polish people in the U.S. revolted and made like a Nazi party or something. Mrs. Jordan was screaming Polacks! Polacks! at the people and there was a dead dog in our attic. I wonder if this is a prophetic dream??

At lunch today Pam seemed mad at something. For some reason I have a feeling that she and Gary are going to break up. Either that or they are getting a little too serious for their ages.


Mrs. Jordan was Cindy's mom. I don't know why she was in a dream, much less one that was so racist. She was one of the most non-racist people I knew.

I had a crush on Gary. I met him at a cub scout pack meeting in which my younger brother raced a pine wood derby. Gary and another boy scout, Bob, were there. They recognized me the next day at school and teased me about having worn a pair of short shorts (called "hot pants" back then) and a see through blouse (what was my mother thinking?) to the cub scout meeting. Gary or Bob said something about looking better the night before. At some point in the next few weeks I pointed Gary out to my friend Pam, telling her that I thought he was cute. Low and behold he ended up taking her out and they wound up going steady. However it didn't seem to bother me much. I think it must have bothered me, but I would not admit it to myself.