Snapshots of My Life

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

2008-10-30T14:06:00.001-04:00

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

2008-10-30T13:34:00.001-04:00

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

2008-10-30T13:16:00.001-04:00

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

2008-10-30T13:05:00.001-04:00

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.

2008-10-30T13:00:00.001-04:00

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)

2008-10-30T12:51:00.002-04:00

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:

I dislike Halloween now, what happened to make me dislike it when I obviously used to like it?
It sounds like I had a rather busy day. I did a lot more that day than I do nowadays.
I'd probably be like my Aunt Pat if I weren't married to Mr. Neat and Tidy
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

2008-10-30T12:41:00.001-04:00

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

2008-10-27T14:44:00.001-04:00

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

2008-10-26T16:50:00.002-04:00

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

2008-10-25T12:56:00.010-04:00

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

2008-10-25T12:53:00.001-04:00

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

2008-10-25T11:44:00.005-04:00

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

2008-10-25T11:17:00.004-04:00

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

2008-10-25T10:31:00.002-04:00

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

2008-09-23T08:13:00.002-04:00

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

2008-09-23T08:04:00.001-04:00

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

2008-09-23T07:42:00.000-04:00

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

2008-05-16T11:10:00.006-04:00

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

2008-05-16T11:04:00.002-04:00

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

2008-05-16T10:57:00.002-04:00

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

2008-05-16T10:18:00.003-04:00

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

2008-05-16T10:05:00.003-04:00

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

2008-05-16T09:53:00.004-04:00

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

2008-05-16T09:44:00.003-04:00

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.

Note:
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

2008-05-16T09:42:00.002-04:00

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

Note:

March 6th, 1976 In which I am bored and ramble

2008-05-16T09:10:00.005-04:00

Saturday

At work again, I'm always at work. I've become very upset today (just now actually) realizing that I have so much homework to do and I haven't done anything a whole half a semester! I complain that I have no social life but I don't know how I could work it in. I complain about needing more hours. I do hope thou that Woody and I go out again. I mean that.

Why does it seem that I can't get up enough energy to get out of bed mornings?

What do I have to do?

Research paper for English
Research paper for back packing
Research paper for human growth and development

Oh dear! I'm getting depressed. I really shouldn't do that. I feel like calling Woody up and having his voice get me out of my depression. Damn. I feel so down now.

I wish Woody would walk in right now. Please come in Woody. I know he won't.

"Hello, can I help you?"
"Yes, can you show me this ring?"
"Yes."
Zippppp (case being unlocked)
"Oh, look Dear. How does this look? Mumble, mumble."
"We'll take this. How much is it?"
"$1.88 plus tax."
"OK."
Click, click, click / Rumble / Click, click, Rumble, Ring.
"$1.97 please."
Crumple, crumple, rip / staple,
crumple crumple
Jingle, jingle, jingle
"$1.97, 98, 99, Two dollars. Thank you very much."
"You're welcome (or Thank you)."

I have just written a normal communication at the jewelry counter. During the writing Woody did not walk in. I wonder if he is thinking about me. Think happy thoughts Woody, I don't feel well.

I am bored, bored, bored! I got myself wishing for company. I should be happy to be working. Daddy didn't go to work at all yesterday or today. I should pray that I don't have the flu or anything like that.

I've done a really weird thing these last two nights. I got down on my knees and prayed. Woody is very religious. But he quit going to church. I am invited to the next "sunrise experience" he has with his friends. I am kinda nervouse. Maybe I won't go. I am feeling bad again. I really need Woody. Perhaps he'll call tomorrow (but I doubt it). I feel sure he will think of me tomorrow. Pretty soon I will go on break.

I wonder who the security guard is tonight. Nancy and Dave aren't working here anymore.

When I really think I realize that I have ample tome to do all that needs to be done -- except perhaps my backpacking paper, but that is all my fault. Hey, I just figured out existentialism -- good it will help me with my English paper.

I am hungry.

Mick P. is spending the night tonight. I hope I get time alone with him to ask him if he knows Woody. I don't know if Woody is serious about me not asking Mike. I would like to meet and talk to someone who knew Woody before he was changed.

Woody told me that he was in a mental hospital last summer. My God! When I was looking forward to Jeremy's visit, Woody was in a hospital. I didn't even know that he existed then. What to do?

Note:
Obviously this was stream of consciousness rambling. Interesting in a way -- especially how I just happened to mention that about Woody in the hospital. I think it was on my mind and I didn't want to spend time analyzing it, but it came out when I was just writing without really putting a lot of thought into it.

I'd forgotten that Woody had been in the hospital before I met him. I knew he went back the next summer. I've always wondered why, but never asked.

I don't remember what the English research paper was on -- perhaps existensialism? (funny how I suddenly "figured it out" there behind the counter in the jewelry counter at Zayre), but my backpacking (my PE credit) paper was on hiking the Pennine Way. My human growth and development paper was on the importance of fantasy in children's lives or something like that.

Mike P. was my cousin Bob's friend.

Same day 4:57 pm

2008-05-16T08:47:00.003-04:00

This is after break and I want to make a record, starting now, about Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.

pg. 4 -- Lines 7-9

"Oh" I holler back. Then I nod. At age eleven you don't get impressed with red-winged blackbirds.

You have to get older for that.

lines 26 - 41

In a car you're always in a compartment, and because you're used to it you don't realize that through that car window everything you see is just more TV. You're a passive observer and it is all moving by you boringly in a frame.

On a cycle the frame is gone. You're completely in contact with it all. You're in the scene, not just watching it anymore, and the sense of presence is overwhelming. That concrete whizzing by five inches below your foot is the real thing, the same stuff you walk on, it's right there, so blurred you can't focus on it, yet you can put your foot down and touch it anytime, and the whole thing, the whole experience, is never removed from immediate consciousness.

pp 5, 6 lines 32 - 2 (p 6)

They're not too busy to be courteous. The hereness and nowness of things is something they know all about. It's the others, the ones who moved to the cities years ago and their lost offspring, who have all but forgotten it. The discovery was a real find.

I've wondered why it took us so long to catch on. We saw it and yet we didn't see it. Or rather we were trained not to see it. Conned, perhaps, into thinking that the real action was metropolitan and all this was just boring hinterland. It was a puzzling thing. The truth knocks on the door and you say, ``Go away, I'm looking for the truth,'' and so it goes away.

pg 6, 7 lines 38 - 3 (p. 7)

On Labor Day and Memorial Day weekends we travel for miles on these roads without seeing another vehicle, then cross a federal highway and look at cars strung bumper to bumper to the horizon. Scowling faces inside. Kids crying in the back seat. I keep wishing there were some way to tell them something but they scowl and appear to be in a hurry, and there isn't -- .

Note:
I remember that I had to read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance for my philosophy class. I also remember not liking the book much. I suppose I took notes here to remember the passages that spoke to me or something. Perhaps I didn't have my philosophy notebook handy.

March 5, 1976 In which I use far too many clichés

2008-05-16T08:21:00.007-04:00

Friday

Good gosh! Unbelievable how I am writing so much lately! Actually it is now 3:57 pm. I am working and some people I know just stopped over.

Woody and I talked again today (of course -- it's Friday). He asked me that when I get things straightened out in my head if I would go out with him again. I said I would.

Two of the most important things in the world are truth and love. Lately these have both been practically denied to me for other love. I can't put it into words.

I know I am much too far along in this relationship with Woody to turn back. I don't want to turn back. I want to plow forth to find green pastures and happiness. But I am afraid that green pastures and happiness may lead to barren fields and sadness. Why can't I have two to love instead of one. Actually it is not two I want, but at least one who is always present. I am afraid I have developed too late. I mean developed in a sense of security with a guy. I used to criticize Sally S. for always wanting a guy to hang on [to] -- and usually having one! Maybe I was jealous -- of course that was it. Envy is an evil thing. "That green headed monster."

Woody and I think alike.

Ticket stub for
[Tape residue here, but no ticket stub] <--- Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother Woodfield, 3/4/76

The above is proof of it. He saved this for me :-). And I forgot, but thought of asking him for it. Not that it is any proof of secret love or anything.

OK. If you are reading this, Jeremy, I hope you forgive my digression off the path of love for you. I have not stopped loving you -- in fact our love (my love for you) has become greater. I do believe that I appreciate you much more. Just think, when you read this we will be married. How do you like being wed to me? Is it paradise as we had planned? Do we have children? What have we named them?

Note:
This entry, aside from the angst felt, is possibly the most embarrassing I've read of my journal entries. I use laughable old clichés and think that someone saving a ticket stub for me to paste in a journal proves connected thought processes. It seems that not only did I loose a sense of self and displayed poor judgment by continuing to date Woody (for dating it was) while "engaged" to Jeremy, I lost my personal voice in writing.

March 4, 1976 -- In which I profess my love for Woody

2008-05-16T07:51:00.004-04:00

Thursday

Once again I turn to you, my journal, instead of Jeremy. How can someone's mind change so rapidly? What am I going to do? I can't hurt Jeremy like I could if I only told him my feelings. I don't know what to do.

I know that I love Jeremy, and he loves me. Then, what do I feel for Woody? It sure is more than I feel for girlfriends. He is male, and there or here rather. Jeremy is 3848 miles and five months and a lot of money away -- Woody is 20 miles, 7 ½ hours and one busy token away. What do I do? I do believe that I understand now what Jeremy meant when he told me about Meg. He said that if he didn't already love me he would think he loved Meg. I truly understand now. I've told Woody my feelings, sort of. I said it was like wanting my cake and eating it too. I wish that people couldn't hurt and be hurt, then I could do what I wanted without care.

I have a love for Woody. I haven't figured it out yet, but I do have a love for him.

One thing he said tonight is really bugging me. He said that Jeremy is really getting a good person (that's a laugh). Then he said (and I'm sure he was joking) that if I decided that marriage to Jeremy wasn't what I wanted, to come back and marry him.

I'm having a difficult time trying to decide what to write to Jeremy. I'd like to tell him everything, but I know, realistically, that I can't. How do you tell your fiancé that you are having doubts about the engagement? I know that I have four years yet to get through this engagement to the doors of "paradise". What do I do?

One other thing that Woody did tonight that got me thinking and a bit worried. He called me Connie. Connie is the girl he is having a difficult time getting over. Poor Woody. I didn't say anything when he called me that. He didn't realize it either. Just as well I guess.

We saw Sherlock Holmes' Smarter Brother tonight. Wow! It was funny. But even more funny -- actually it wasn't funny but awful, we stalled in the middle of a 4 lane highway. I laughted so much, but it really wasn't funny. I also met his mother and sister and neighbor.

Well, thanks, green notebook, for listening. I think that you are the best listener I have; you don't show any emotion simply because you can't. Now to write to Jeremy.

Note:
This post really speaks for itself and perhaps the beginning of the end of my love for Jeremy, if I ever really did love him and not just the idea of being in love. As I said, Jeremy was far away and Woody was available.

Woody and I reconnected a few years ago and he sent me an email telling me that he loved me back then and still did. (Rather obvious from the things I wrote in this entry). His kids (and wife) all knew who I was. He and his wife divorced not long after we reconnected -- it was in the works before -- our communicating had little to do with it, except to speed it up. He spent a couple years occasionally writing to me and we saw each other a couple of times when I was in Elgin. Then he remarried and moved downstate. Hopefully he's happy.

Digging back into one's past can be dangerous.

February 25, 1976 -- In which I attend a seminar and am changed forever

2008-04-25T12:07:00.010-04:00

Wednesday

10:21 pm

A very important day in the life of Dona Lee Patrick. I am now on my way to becoming a butterfly. I am now a caterpillar, but soon may be a butterfly. I don't think I will ever be on the caterpillar pillar. I wonder if I have to spin a cocoon.

Woody and I went to a speech today about knowing ourself. In order to have a good life (all aspects of it) one must first know oneself.

I don't know what that man [the speaker] did to me, but whatever he did it sure felt good! I was full of electricity when I left. It was wonderful. Woody and I got to know each other even better.

Note:
The notice for this meeting was something about sex. The speaker was one of those charismatic motivational speakers that knows how to work an audience. I'm not sure what it was all about -- my husband went too (we didn't know each other at the time) and thought it had something to do with self-actualization. Something possibly akin to Scientology. Dean was not as impressed as I was.

The whole butterfly - caterpillar - caterpillar pillar thing was from a book by Trina Paulus called Hope for the Flowers. I still have a copy of this book and read it now and then. Each time the message is a little different for me.

There was also a whole sunrise aspect / discussion about this seminar. Now that I think back on it, I'm a little skeptical. It might have been anything -- some sort of cult trying to recruit college students. I'm surpised there is not much on YouTube about this book, but here is a video inspired by it.

February 23, 1976 -- In which I analyze my feelings about Woody

2008-04-25T11:55:00.002-04:00

Monday

7:30 pm

I don't know why I am writing this. I've already got my emotions straightened out I think. I just can't figure out the good feelings I have around Woody (that's his name for sure, I asked him). They are not sexual, for he is not very good looking, they aren't really emotional either. I just like him. But I have an awful feeling (it isn't awful at all) that he has a different sort of feeling for me. I am not sure. I guess that this is what I hoped for. Now "to lead him on or not to lead him on, that is the question." (Whether 'tis nobler...)

I don't really know. I don't know what I'd do if he asked me out. I hope he does. We may go to a concert this Saturday. I'm not sure; he just asked me if I was going. Maybe he will want to meet there. Why do I care? A good excuse is that I have uneventful weekends. All I do is sit around and get bored. I need social interaction but I won't get it on my own. I need friends. What to do???

My stupid face is breaking out. I hate that. I've got a paper to do for English.

Note:
All I can say is WHAT A BITCH! I was calculatingly planning on leading him on? Geeze... I thought I was a better person than that.

February 9, 1976 -- In which we meet Woody

2008-04-25T11:45:00.003-04:00

Monday

10:55

I've finally hit upon something I can't very well write to Jeremy -- my attraction to another ~~man~~ guy. I can't figure it out. I "dressed up" for this person today -- I even curled my hair. He is in my dreams and even supersedes Jeremy on my waking thoughts.

I love Jeremy. I can't have any emotion left over for "Woody" (I'm not sure what his name is, he never told me). Why do I get all in a hassle over such a silly thing?

I feel like a teeny-bopper with a crush! In essence that is what I am. I am so happy to be alive right now. Whether or not "Woody" has anything to do with my renewed love of life, I don't really care. I think I'll tell him.

Note:
While I don't remember meeting Woody, I do remember him well as we were to become good friends over the next few years.

January 24, 1976 -- In which I write about not losing my temper

2008-04-25T11:40:00.002-04:00

Saturday

7:31 pm

I've just finished copying the song on the preceding pages. I got angry downstairs and didn't lose my temper. Instead I brushed my teeth. Boy, did they get clean. My throat hurts a little bit now, I don't know why. I've got Tommy playing, but it is too loud. I think that I really ought to clean my room now. I hate that task, but I have to.

I didn't write to Jeremy last night. Not because I forgot, but because I was tired.

Song we sang in Burgoyne's car summer '74

2008-04-25T10:22:00.007-04:00

(cat soiled first copy)

Green Grow the Rushes, O

I'll sing you one, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What is your one, O?
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you two, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your two, O?
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you three, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your three, O?
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you four, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your four, O?
Four for the Gospel makers,
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you five, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your five, O?
Five for the symbols at your door,
Four for the Gospel makers,
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you six, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your six, O?
Six for the six proud walkers,
Five for the symbols at your door,
Four for the Gospel makers,
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you seven, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your seven, O?
Seven for the seven stars in the sky
Six for the six proud walkers,
Five for the symbols at your door,
Four for the Gospel makers,
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you eight, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your eight, O?
Eight for the eight bold rangers,
Seven for the seven stars in the sky
Six for the six proud walkers,
Five for the symbols at your door,
Four for the Gospel makers,
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you nine, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your nine, O?
Nine for the nine bright shiners,
Eight for the eight bold rangers,
Seven for the seven stars in the sky
Six for the six proud walkers,
Five for the symbols at your door,
Four for the Gospel makers,
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you ten, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your ten, O?
Ten for the ten commandments,
Nine for the nine bright shiners,
Eight for the eight bold rangers,
Seven for the seven stars in the sky
Six for the six proud walkers,
Five for the symbols at your door,
Four for the Gospel makers,
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you eleven, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your eleven, O?
Eleven for the eleven who went to heaven,
Ten for the ten commandments,
Nine for the nine bright shiners,
Eight for the eight bold rangers,
Seven for the seven stars in the sky
Six for the six proud walkers,
Five for the symbols at your door,
Four for the Gospel makers,
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

I'll sing you twelve, O
Green grow the rushes, O
What are your twelve, O?
Twelve for the twelve Apostles ,
Eleven for the eleven who went to heaven,
Ten for the ten commandments,
Nine for the nine bright shiners,
Eight for the eight bold rangers,
Seven for the seven stars in the sky
Six for the six proud walkers,
Five for the symbols at your door,
Four for the Gospel makers,
Three, three, the rivals,
Two, two, lily-white boys,
Clothed all in green, O
One is one and all alone
And evermore shall be so.

Note:
So I remember singing this song but not transcribing it to my journal. I guess I found it in a book or somewhere and wanted to save it. The days before computers...

Wikipedia gives an interpretation of it. Here are Emma Peel and John Steed singing a snippet:

No title -- No date

2008-04-25T09:28:00.005-04:00

~~There, the last earring to be priced and put on the shelf. After two long days of setting up the Jewelry counter at my new job at Zayre in Elgin~~

After arranging the final display in the new jewelry department at Zayre, in Elgin, Bob and George, the district manager and district supervisor of the company behind the jewelry department, left for a coffee break. Bob, calling as he left, "Don't let anyone steal our jewelry now."

"No one is going to steal anything," I thought optimistically, while I polished the glass cabinets which held watches, lights and the more expensive jewelry.

When I was finished with the housekeeping, I stood behind the counter and tried to look like I'd been standing there for two years instead of two days. A few people bought things, and I rang up their purchases and gave them their change with no mishaps. All in all, everything was going very smoothly. A few women were milling around the various displays, chattering about how this or that looked. A man, tall and dark with a blue shirt was looking at the "genuine artificial" pukka shell necklaces. I had seen this man earlier that day in the store. He would be carrying a jacket or a pair of pants at one time and the next time nothing at all or something different.

Now the man was looking in one direction, then the other. He would pick up something and then put it back. He walked around the counter, still staring at people. For some reason I was careful not to catch his eye. I busied myself with straightening an already perfect display and figured that if I ignored this strange man he would go away. I suddenly caught myself -- what if the manager came back and I was being discourteous to a customer?

"Can I help you?" I asked the man, giving him a smile. He shook his head and continued swiveling his head, looking around the store.

After trying not to look self-conscious, I was startled by a loud rap on the glass cabinet at the end of the counter. Turning around, I saw that the stranger was now staring at me. I approached him and he pushed one of the fake pukka necklaces across the counter towards me. He shook his head. "Don't you want this?" I asked, wondering if he was deaf or couldn't talk for some reason. He shook his head again, but didn't open his mouth. I took the necklace and hung it on the peg it had come form and resumed my vigil at the cash register.

After about five more minutes, the man walked up to the register. He was still staring wildly around, mostly at the women in the jewelry department. He reached into his pocket with his right hand and while he groped for something there, with his left hand, handed me a wallet he had picked up off a shelf and said, "Now don't get nervous. Don't ring this up; I'm not buying it."

He looked around once more and slowly pulled his hand from his pocket. My heart was pounding as I watched his hand emerge from his pocket, expecting the worst.

"Oh thank God!" I thought, when I saw what he held in his hand was not a gun, but a black comb, three one dollar bills and some change.

"I'm security," he explained, "just give me a bag and make it look like this is real.

I pushed the total button on the cash register, put his "purchase" in a bag and stapled a fake receipt to the bag. As the tall, dark, "security" man walked away I felt my heart return to its normal spot in the center of my chest instead of in my throat where it had been for the past few minutes.

Note:
I vividly remember the security guard who was the basis for this story. It really did happen this way, although I'd forgotten the details until reading this.

The man was probably in his mid-twenties. He was tall and handsome in a foreign way. He told me he was from Hawaii and not Pakistan which is where the rest of the security guards were from.

Collecting for "Writing 8"

2008-04-25T09:16:00.002-04:00

First day alone at work
Facts being trhown at me
Tall dark man walking around counter
having been told that people who loiter can be shoplifters
Head manager left to have coffee and left me alone at jewerly counter
Said "watch that no one walks away with our Jewelry"
store busy
pricing jewelry
not used to store
man looking at the jewelry
he looked around all of the time
Knocked on the counter

~~"Oh dear, this guy can't talk," I thought.~~
Pushed a necklace on top of counter and shook head.
I put necklace back
Finally asked him if I could help him and he got angry and shook his head.
Then came around to the register and said, "Now don't get nervous. , but I'm not buying this stuff."
Started reaching into his pocket
Continued, "I'm security, just do something and make it look real."
I pushed the total button and uut a billfold in a bag, all the while he stared around him.
When the manager came back I asked him if the tall dark man was really security and explained what happened

Writing #7

2008-04-25T08:57:00.004-04:00

At 2:00 yesterday afternoon I decided to go home early in case the bus came earlier than usual. As I approached the door I saw that the bus was already turning the corner coming to the bus stop, which I wasn't at, but should have been. I said something under my breath, pushed through the revolving door and ran. My backpack bounced back and forth on my back

My usual routine after math, at 1:50 pm is to climb the steps by the lounge, shrug off my backpack full of books and sit on the ledge by the railing at the front entrance waiting until 2:05 when I walk to the bus stop by the north annex. The bus, usually on time, comes at 2:12. One particular Wednesday, though, I thought I'd leave a little early, since the driver hadn't been the regular one for the past two days and consequently the bus schedule was a bit mixed up.

As I stood up, putting my right arm through the red strap of my heavy backpack and walking to the revolving door, skipping the other strap in place around my left shoulder I noticed, through the window that the bus was already on its way down Fleetwood drive. In a matter of seconds it would be past the bus stop and I would have to wait a half hour for the next one. I pushed through the revolving door, not paying attention to the squeaking sound the rubber maked on the glass that usually makes me think of the sound a window-washer's squeegee makes. Then I ran.

My shoes making a flapping sound on the pavement and my books bouncing back and froth on my back with every running step I took. I passed two men in suits and ties wondering if they thought I was being pursued. All the while I was watching the bus, which by now had come to a halt at the bus stop.

No one was boarding so naturally I thought the driver was waiting for me. I paused in my flight wondering if he would stop at the corner where I was then standing. Better not chance it, I thought; so I was off again, afraid that the bus would zoom past me while I was halfway between stops. I finally reached the bus, panting form my run and boarded.

I thought I'd make a joke of the incident so I asked the driver if he'd ever tried to run with 15 pounds of books on his back. He answered dryly, "Not lately." He then sat there ten more minutes to make up for being early.

Note:
While I don't remember the actual incident of running to the bus, I do remember writing this story for my English class. I think I got a good grade on it because of the action and description.

Journal Entry #9 -- Thursday, October 9, 1975

2008-04-25T08:27:00.002-04:00

I thought I could handle it. I thought that since I ~~know~~ love and am engaged to Jeremy I could handle a conversation with another male as smoothly as a conversation with a female. But I can't. My heart is racing and I am shaking. I was fine -- so calm and cool when I was talking but now I am so nervous. It is awful. It was a man on the bus. A man. Not a boy. Maybe I can talk to a boy, my age or younger, but not a man -- with a beard. Not a fuzzy beard like Dan's but a well-trimmed beard. He was very nice. One stupid thing I said was my answer to his question, "Where do you board?" I thought he meant "live" so I replied, "I live at home." Then I realized what he meant so I said, "and I board at Paul's Restaurant." Good heavens, how embarrassing.

Note:
I don't recall this exchange on the bus. I rode the bus to my community college because I didn't drive until I was 22 -- nearly 23 years old. It was a straight shot up McLean Avenue to the college, but too far to walk. I'd take the bus very early to avoid parochial school students.

Journal Entry #7 -- September 27, 1975

2008-04-24T10:40:00.003-04:00

11:30 pm

The first thing to do is write in my English journal, then my regular journal, then to Jeremy, then to Sue and finally to Pam. Then I can read a chapter in Upstairs, Downstairs. Then to sleep.

I've been rearranging my room tonight. I think I will really like this way, but I become bored with it so often.

I think I'll be doing homework from the time I rise until Monty Python tomorrow.

I really think I like the way I have my room. Gee whiz -- now that I've found the way I like it, I don't have much longer in it. I'll be going away to school the year after next and when, who knows? Jeremy and I want to live together -- share an ampartment -- the first year he's here. Then I'll get married. So I guess this room goes to Kevin -- Or Mom and Dad.

It's going to be sad -- but I guess its not the room -- it could be all my things -- posters, drawings, records, books, knick-knacks -- everything. Everything holds meaning for me.

Note:
About the room -- I think Kevin moved up there after I finally left (at age 23 -- I didn't go away to school and Jeremy and I broke up my senior year of college). When he left it was turned back into a storage room, occasionally used as a guest room.

Collecting #2 -- No date

2008-04-24T10:34:00.002-04:00

While doing the dishes and worrying about my history test, my uncle -- whose daughter and I are the same age, but she isn't going to college -- asked me if I was going to school. When I said yes, he said, "So you aren't a working girl then?"
Complaining about my old history teacher to my eye doctor / friend and finding out that he had him for history and liked him.
Waiting a month for a birthday present from my boyfriend overseas and it being all chipped up when it gets here.
Getting all my homework out of the way and settling down in front of the television with my sewing to watch a movoe only to find out a different movie (about cops and robbers) is on instead.

Note:
Another list of items for English.

Journal Entry #6 -- September 26, 1975

2008-04-24T10:26:00.003-04:00

8:03

I didn't quite execute self-discipline today. I got up late and only studied for one hour in the library, but the night's not over yet. I've just figured out that I waste 53 hours a week -- that's more than two days I waste -- and not sleeping either. What do I do with my time? Cut that -- it's 50 hours a week. Writing to Jeremy is not a waste of time.

Uncle Vern and Aunt Norma are over. Uncle Vern is so stupid -- all he talks about is how rotten the world is treating him and his little Bonnie (who's 19 in January) or how we should get rid of the [n-word] before they get rid of us. People like him make me ill.

Note:
I don't remember this day nor the calculations I must have made to come up
with how much time I wasted a week. Interesting. I wonder what I counted as
wasting time. TV? What else. Not reading, I hope.

Uncle Vern - biggest bigot I've ever known. End of story.

Journal Entry #5 -- September 25, 1975

2008-04-24T10:14:00.003-04:00

I hate college. There is no doubt about it. But I have to go. If I want my family to respect me I've got to go. I hate Mr. Lehr. He is an old stupid man who should have been put out to pasture years ago. Well, I don't hate him. I hate the way he teaches. I know that hate is a strong word. I also know that I shouldn't use it. But I almost feel that strongly about homework. Why do I waste time? Time is so precious. I've learned that this summer.

I've got to get a job. I want to go to England next year so I've got to get a job. I don't want to -- my grades will suffer. I think I'm very un-self-disciplined. I've tried to be disciplined but I can't. I suppose I could if I tried. I think I will try. Tomorrow, instead of staying in bed after the alarm goes off, I'll get up and perhaps get something done. Then tomorrow night, instead of relaxing, I'll do homework. Saturday I'll go job hunting -- just see if I don't. I'll make it -- I'm sure of that.

Note:
I was not self-disciplined. I'm still not self-disciplined. College was a
rude-awakening. I didn't have to study much in high school for decent grades,
but college was another story, especially in classes where the professor
had been around a while. The newer professors were more easy going and
perhaps had more interesting ways of teaching.

Collecting #1 (No Date)

2008-04-24T09:59:00.002-04:00

Bus driver sitting on her bus, under "No Smoking" sign, smoking a cigarette.
The last days of summer cloudy and cold while the first days of autumn sunny and warm
My father [incorrectly] correcting my mother's grammar (using still where yet would be better) and turning to me saying, "Good grief, she didn't never used to speak like that.")
A neighbor who moved away called up and said that someone had stolen her waitress uniform off the line and the next day finding out that one of her co-workers had hidden it in the rose bush.
An old woman whom I have lived behind for 14 years saw me at the bus stop and asked where I lived. This woman is known for her observation.

Note:
I guess this was a list of contrasting things for
my English class. I actually remember every event, especially my father's
grammar lesson. My father thought that it was proper to use the word "yet" in
place of "still" in most instances. For example, instead of saying, "My brother
still uses this way of speaking." My dad would say, "My brother uses this way of
speaking yet."
I don't know if it is correct, but I suspect not. Or perhaps it is a regional
way of speaking.

No date -- The Smile --

2008-04-24T09:50:00.002-04:00

The old broken down huts and the good houses.
The little boy and his boyish / monkish sides
The little boys ability to get along with the ox
The kids insight on nature
The violence contrasting with the monks serenity
The girls smile being taunting while the kids smile friendly
The older monks ignorance of the fun while the boy's fascination make shim stop and play with the puppets
The little boy seemed to be doing what Buddha said more than the old monk

Note:
This looks to be a list of observations of a short film we watched in class. I checked on IMDB.com for a short film called "The Smile" but didn't find one.

Journal Entry #4 -- September 17, 1975

2008-04-24T09:39:00.003-04:00

Last night as I tried to sleep at 11:00 pm, I wished my father would stop working in the basement. He was sawing and hammering and although I sleep on the top floor of the our two story house the sounds came up through the register and sounded like my father was in the next room. Buzz, buzz, pound, pound -- so late at night. Then I stopped, "Hey wait a minute." This is the only time he could work on the basement room. He works all day and moonlights after dinner. Then my mind wanders to other things he's done here late at night.

My room was built with that perseverance. He would be found pounding nails or sawing wood in the attic, transforming it into the beautiful room I call mine.

I never thought cleaning my room could be so enjoyable! It is so great to be back here -- I've got so many memories stored in every crevice. Even the carpeting is memorable. I know I had to give up my room to Jeremy for 6 weeks while he was visiting because it

Note: The entry before the crossed out paragraph was surprisingly compassionate for me during this time. It's pleasant to look back on it to see that I did understand what my dad went through to make us comfortable.
Not sure why I crossed out the last paragraph. Maybe I ran out of time to finish my thoughts?

Journal Entry #3 -- September 16, 1975

2008-04-24T09:34:00.004-04:00

Why do I always feel like doodling when I get bored with history? I've just drawn a shoe on my folder and my hand keeps straying to the white part of the paper. I can't stand history! I don't even feel like writing now. I'm hungry. I should have never begun eating lunch again. I'll never get any studying done. I'm going to meet Karen and Sue in 20 minutes.

Note: All I remember about this post is hating history. The professor was an old school educator and his lectures were very boring. Plus, I didn't like the subject. I failed a few quizzes, but finally got the hang of college history.

Journal Entry #2 -- September 15, 1975

2008-02-27T08:58:00.003-05:00

I should have been writing in here much more often, but I guess I put it off too much. I do have something to write about now thought -- my room.

I finally got it back -- after almost three months of seeing Kevin and Bob run up and down the steps. When Jeremy was here things weren't so bad except when I got to thinking about not sleeping in my bed right after Jeremy. But now that is all over. My room and I are reunited.

Some people may think that I am foolish to feel so strongly about a bedroom, but I have very strong ties with the room itself. Sure, everything in it holds a special meaning, but the very nails were put in with a sort of love that not much else suprasses. My father worked very hard one summer to try to finish building this part of the attice for me while I was visiting my grandmother in Wisconsin. I hold a special feeling for this room as I don't have, and most likely ever will for any other for the rest of my life.

Note:
When I was around 16 my father finished off the attic of our mid-19th century bungalow. My brother was getting older and need a place to sleep other than an alcove in the living room. He would have my bedroom and I would get part of the attic.

I was excited about this, but terrified of the attic itself. I told myself that it would be ok - it would no longer look like an attic - which had no floors, just fluffy yellow insulation between support beams. I'm not sure how mom and dad stored things up there without floorboards. It was amazing that they lived in that house for 11 years and didn't seem to need the storage an entire story would provide. I guess they couldn't afford it - either in time nor money.

My first night in that room was the only time I was afraid up there. I remember being terrified and when my nose began to bleed (probably from breathing sawdust) I was too afraid to go downstairs to deal with it, so I just bled all over the sheets.

My cousin Bob lived with us for a few years after getting in trouble. My dad insisted he finish high school if he lived with us. I'm not sure where he slept before Jeremy's visit -- perhaps he and Kevin got my room right away. At first I felt magnanimous about the situation, but after he and I had a number of altercations, I quit being so noble and longed for my room -- I must have put up a fuss, because I got the room back. I am unsure where Bob and Kevin ended up sleeping after I got my room back because I don't think the basement bedroom was complete at this point.

I was wrong about feeling so attached to a room, because I feel the same about my office (which incidently is in the attic of our house).

Knoxville: Summer of 1915 -- Writing

2008-02-27T08:27:00.002-05:00

This essay brings back the pleasure of being allowed to play outside after dark. Mother would grant me the honor at different times -- perhaps if I had eaten my dinner well that night or if I cleaned my room. Devin would say, before dinner, "I'll see you after dinner. I knew I wouldn't see her. But sometimes I would be able to. I remember once -- when my mom and dad and aunt and uncle were sitting in the backyard and aoo of us kids were running all around catching lightning bugs.

I can feel the excitement even now of catching a lightening bug. I'd see him blink on and off across the lawn and I'd run to where he was, hoping to see him again. There he was -- I'd be close enough now to see him without his light -- a black speck with transparent wings vibrating at his sides. I'd sneak up and encase him in the hollow made from my cupped hands. There I'd feel him trying to escape, tickling my palms with his wings. I'd run to an empty peanut butter jar and open it with one hand while the other held my precious catch. There he'd drop -- to the bottom of the jar -- I'd quickly replace the cover and turn it. Then I'd examine the catch and sometimes shake the jar to make him light up.

My brother had a different technique. His first steps were similar to my own, but when he caught the lightening bug he wouldn't keep it captured in a jar, but whip it to the sidewalk and step on it, knowing that this was the secret to making "rings". I never liked to watch that, but it was an obsession to my brother and other boys.

Note:
While I don't recall reading Knoxville: Summer of 1915, which a Google search tells me is a "short prose piece by James Agee", I do remember catching fireflies. I don't think my brother really threw fireflies on the sidewalk though. My mother told me that she used to do that, so I think I incorporated it into my story and used my brother instead of my mom as the offender. Good thing my memoir was never featured on Oprah.

The Dump Ground -- Writing #1

2008-02-25T08:21:00.001-05:00

I remember Mountain Street. I was there during the first five years of my life. One especially memorable place was the little pink room I slept in. I think the kitchen was on the other side. One time I was playing with Mike G. under the window at a little wooden table with matching chairs (one of which my mother threw across the room on a later date, breaking the back). We had two little cans of Play-Doh and were making "cookies". Mike, being two years my junior, at one of the "cookies". I screamed at him, bringing both our mothers into my room. I think his mother held him upside down to make him spit out the Play-Doh. I screamed until my Play-Doh was out of his mouth -- I didn't care if he was poisoned, I just wanted my Play-Doh back.

Another memory of the old house is my portable phonograph. I had lots of records from The Mickey Mouse Club and Walt Disney movies such as Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty. I also had a long playing record on which, among others, were the songs The Old Woman Who Swallowed a Fly and Wish Upon a Star -- My mother sat on it. It was my favorite one, too.

I remember when Archie, our cocker spaniel couldn't climb the basement stairs. We took him to the vet and he never came out. Later my father explained that Archie had broken his back and the vet put him to sleep. I waited a long time for Archie to wake up, but I learned, too soon, that when a pet is put to sleep they don't ever wake up.

Note:
This was written for my English class in my freshman year of college. While I do not recall reading The Dump Ground, I remember writing the final draft of my own memories and reading it aloud to the class. Several girls cried at the end and a few said I was a good writer. I also remember everything mentioned in the story except for the record my mom sat on. I guess I got over it.

September 4, 1975 -- Journal::Entry 1

2008-02-25T08:04:00.000-05:00

I guess we are supposed to write in our journals. I don't know. That seems to be what I am usually thinking around here -- "I don't know". I don't know what is going on in my other classes. Either my mind is muddled or the teachers don't speak clearly. Sometimes I wonder what I am doing here. But of course -- I can't "teach little kiddies" (as Dan said yesterday) without college. I could be married and in England right now if I weren't here, but I am and I guess I'd best make the best of it.

I dropped tennis today. It may have been a stupid move but I did it. I can't stand not knowing anyone in my group -- no one seems to want to be my partner. I didn't think I was that repulsive. I wonder what my mother will say when I tell her. I don't have to tell her I guess. But she'd find out sooner or later. It's not as if she is paying for college or anything like that.

Note:
I don't recall feeling so confused or depressed about junior college, however I do recall dropping tennis and feeling guilty about it.

It is a shame I didn't go to a 4-year school right away. I seemed to still be under my parents' control in college. My comment on them not paying for it was true. I received financial help from the Illinois State Scholarship Commission which meant my tuition was paid for. If I'd gone to a 4-year college and lived there, tuition and room & board would have been paid for.

To this day I don't know if my parents didn't understand this or if they were too proud to take that much money from the state. My guidance counselor was disappointed that I didn't even attempt to go to Illinois State University.

Chapter 2 Writing 3

2008-02-08T20:50:00.001-05:00

No Date

The Red Balloon

Wow! A great film. I felt close to Jeremy when I saw this because he saw it last year when he was here. The little boy was so cute. He really loved that balloon. I remember when I was young I used to cry if my balloon popped. I once accidentally broke my brother's and cried. One other time I was riding in the back seat of my dad's truck and was holding onto three balloons -- two on sticks and one that floated (which was red, incidentally). The red balloon escaped my hand and "ran away". I screamed and my father thought I was in pain or something.

I really was happy to see that film. I've heard so much about it. The balloon was so red and round, it must have been an expensive one. It's strange that the people wouldn't understand this kid's feelings for his balloon.

I always thought of balloons as being sort of companions -- of course mine never stayed around when I left unless they were in the house. Hey! What if when that balloon of mine left me, it was going to find some kid who had just had his killed? Nice thought huh? I wonder if the young mind of a child works like psychologists think adults do. I mean perhaps when my balloon broke I was realizing that my life is so "short"? Naw, can't be.

All through the film I was worried the balloon was going to break. It looked so fragile, well actually it looked much more hearty than any other balloon I've ever seen, but the way that kid pulled it around -- I was sure it would break.

He didn't seem to mourn his lost, broken balloon too much -- when the others came he just dropped the remains of his old friend to get his new friends. But that seems the way a child's mind works. It flits from one thing to another with out stopping at one too long (look at me saying that in this paper). I am really happy to have seen the film. I am seriously considering buying the book, for I saw it at a bookstore.

I liked Clown better though.

Note:
I recall writing this entry clearly. I also remember seeing The Red Balloon for the first time. It stuck with me so long that I ended up getting the VHS for my children as well as getting the book I'd mentioned in the entry.

Of course it is on YouTube: The Red Balloon Part 1 (I'm sure you can find the rest of it on YouTube yourself.)

I've not the film in years, but thought this amusing:
The Revenge of the Red Balloon.

Clown was a film about a young boy searching for his dog in the streets of Paris. I wish I could find that to see again. An Internet check shows that it was directed by Richard Balducci in 1968 and is eligible for upload at World Cat. And a further search shows that several libraries have a copy.

Chapter 2 Writing 1

2008-02-01T21:21:00.000-05:00

It's hard to get started. I'm sitting in the dining room, alone except for Cinder. The sun has decided to come out today -- the rest of the weekend was cloudy. Sort of an English Summer Day. I miss Jeremy. I was writing to him last night when Karen called me to come over for Kasey's birthday party. Oh, Kasey was so excited. She kept on saying, "Want some cake Dona?" She cried when she had to go to bed. I met her mamas and papas too, last night. I was a little nervous when I got home because Carol and I talked of spirits yesterday afternoon. I hate ghost stories but at the same time I like them. I don't know why that is. As much as I enjoy being alone -- to read or write -- I don't think I could ever live all alone in an apartment or something.

I had a good enough time this weekend being on my own but I am almost ready for my family to get back here. I think cinder wants Franz too. She's been biting me today -- for attention I suppose. The wind is blowing outside now and I hear an airplane. I wish I was on that plane on my way to England. I have not gone outside yet today. I got up late and remembered my homework. I should also answer the letters that have built up from Jeremy's visit. I can't think of anything else to write -- that's how my letters always end, my way out I suppose. Well the timer has gone off -- 10 minutes is over.

Note:
I think this must have been an English assignment for college. I didn't date it, although on the front of this journal it says the first entry was September 1975. Mom, Dad and Kevin (and Franz the daschund) must have gone to Wisconsin for the weekend. Or something. I was just 19.

Chapter 2 Writing 2

2008-02-01T21:20:00.000-05:00

I've just changed the kitty litter and put my contacts in. I also fixed myself a ham sandwich from Kasey's party and a large glass of 7Up^®. I am waiting for 1:00 to roll around so I can see Lord Peter Wimsey which I missed last night because I was talking to Mike and Karen.

I'm looking forward to Upstairs Downstairs to start again. I was so excited when Hudson and Mr. Bellemy were on Dick Cavett Saturday night. I really jumped up and down. Why do I get so emotional? I get so angry or excited that I must show others how I feel by jumping or hitting or screaming. I guess I'm not grown up enough or something.

My that sandwich looks good. Cinder thinks so too. She has now plopped herself down on the table -- she knows that she oughtn't do that, but I guess she also knows that I won't hit her like Daddy does.

I'm not sure I'm really liking college. The amount of homework stunned me. I have to get a job so I will have even less time in which to do my homework. I want to get good grades too.

I wonder how much grades really count when one gets a job. College is different than high school. I can't pinpoint the difference, but I know it's there. More freedom perhaps.

Here I am trying to dry my hair in the five o'clock sun of a September evening. There are apples on the gound all around my lawn chair. I should have picked them up this weekend -- Daddy once told me that if the apples weren't picked up he'd cut down Charlie.

The leaves of the giant cottonwood in our back door neighbor's yard is making pretty patterns on the backside of our house. As the leaves blow in the wind the patterns change like a kaleidescope. Cinder's been let outside -- she doesn't get out much -- it seems like whenever she is let out she goes in heat -- that must be a coincidence thought. She is now chasing an imaginary mouse, creeping up like a panther. She looks like a miniature replica of a black panther. Nothing is coming to my mind. I don't know when my ten minutes will be up since I don't have a watch on, but I'll stop at the end of this page.

I wish I'd stop twisting my hair. It is such a childish habit. But I should be glad I'm not into an "adult" habit such as smoking or drinking. I was really surprised that Carol smoked. I wonder why I have such an aversion to smoke. It's not the people. I like the people but the smoke bothers me so much. I remember my mother, when she would smoke and I would complain she would get angry. My father still does with cigars.

Jeremy was so thoughtful to stop for me. Actually he did himself a favor by quitting.

What an awful experience -- I had just gotten into bed to do my last 10 minute writing and I saw a brown tiny object on my bed cover. I looked closer and saw it was an ant. I picked him up and aw that he was very close to being dead -- his legs were all crunched up in an M or W. His antennae were moving very slightly though. I didn't want him to just be thrown on the floor. A house is no place for an ant so I went to the window with him on my finger, meaning to throw him out and let him die where he belonged with nature. Well by the time I got to the window he had gone. He's somewhere between the bed and the window. Poor tiny creature. I wonder if his wife and kids know that he is dead. I wonder if ants have a widow fund.

Once, a few weeks ago, I was walking home from the store and I saw a mangy brown dog that looked homeless. I hoped he wouldn't come near me because I have a terrific fear of rabies. Anyway, on the way home I looked over my shoulder and saw that this dog was following me. Something white was coming from his mouth which I later reasoned was spit since it was a hot day and he and he had been running. I didn't think so I said, "Go home!" and he gave me a very sad look and ran off in the opposite direction. Afterwards I felt awful. I didn't even have a kind word for a stray dog. I do believe that his eyes will haunt me for a long time.

Notes:
Just lots of memories - my obsession with all British programs, Dick Cavett, my apple tree - that I named Charlie. Twice my father came across as a brute - hitting cats and threating to cut down my tree (which he did after I moved out). Then there was Cinder, my black cat and constant companion, all the way through my teens and into my thirties. I actually remember the dead ant and the stray dog. Probably because I wrote about them.

It is obvious I was trying to impress an English teacher -- this doesn't really sound like my voice.

December 31, 1975 In which I bid adieu to 1975

2008-01-13T16:06:00.000-05:00

10:49 pm

An hour and 11 minutes 'til 1976. Another sad New Year's Eve. 1975 was a good year as years go. I've got that funny feeling in the pit of my stomach, like I'm saying goodbye to an old and dear friend soon.

I'll bet that if I read every New Year's eve entry they all sound like this one.

January 1975 - Learned that Jeremy was coming for sure
February - [something scribbled out] Started watching Monty Python
March - Sent Jeremy "Wolf" pendant
April - Big snow
May -
June - Graduation
July - Jeremy / Minocqua
August - 19 / College / Phone call Jez, Cindy
September -
October - Work
November -
December - Phone call from Jeremy

I guess this wasn't the most busy year, but it was OK. Nothing really terrible happened to me. This Holiday Season was for the birds though. I had my first "holiday blues year". I hope I don't have any other. Although it was mild, Christmas didn't thrill me so much -- I guess my problems at school as well as work didn't help much. For anyone reading this in the future :-) I'd like to resolve my hatred for Mr. Lehr. He was a pretty good guy after all -- actually I don't really think I deserved what I got - a "B". I more like deserved a "D". D for Dumb. The other grades surprised me too. 3 "A"s and a "C". I guess I'm not doing so bad after all. Maybe next semester I'll make the Dean's list.

I wonder if I can write enough to fill up the next page. Probably not.

I wish I wasn't tired always. In 50 minutes I shall say goodbye to 1975. I'd better write to my love.

I'm back. I've just remembered what else I can write about - my resolutions.

Get up early (no more than 8 hours sleep!)
Study well in school.
Don't procrastinate
Try not to waste time
Be more friendly
Don't be bitcy to Jeremy
Keep up on letter writing
Keep up on journal writing
Always do something worthwhile
Keep track of every penny spent and don't spend foolishly
Cut down on meat if not altogether
Pick up after myself
Take care of my things better (teeth, contacts, room, cat, hair, nails etc)

Well that just about covers it -- Just try to be my ideal person I guess. Now I think I can do my artwork on the back.

Goodbye 1975! I'll miss ya!

Welcome 1976 -- Hope we will get along, we've got 366 days to go!

[back of last page in book written in magic markers and every which way]

1975 Memories

"Monty Python"
"Masterpiece Theatre"
Graduation
19 years old
Narcissus & Goldmund
Watership Down (1/2)
Cindy
Jeremy
Late nights <---- clothes pin people ------->
LOVE
ECC
Eric
:-(
Minocqua
Mr Lehr :-)
Zayre
Catching Bouquets

Note:
I've never much liked New Year's eves. They've always felt more sad than hopeful to me.
Those resolutions look a lot like the ones I try to keep every year. Not much changes in 30-something years, I guess.

Mr Lehr was my American History instructor at the community college. He had the audacity to expect us to study. I didn't and got a few Fs on quizzes. I finally figured it out and began studying.

November 5, 1975 In which I don't know what is wrong.

2008-01-13T15:56:00.000-05:00

Wednesday
11:30 pm

I can't sleep. I wrote to Jeremy earlier and I've nothing to say.

I don't know why I can't sleep -- I should go and get some warm milk. Then I'll be off to dreamland in an instant. I feel like I should be doing something, but I have every right to be in bed doing nothing. I am anxious now and upset. About what though? I don't know. I'm worried about how I am going to get home two weeks from now -- isn't that stupid? My stomach is churning. I wonder what I am upset about. I wish I was rich. I don't have any problems -- I think about people that do.

What to get people for Christmas? Stupid. Why worry -- November 5 only. My head is whirring. I should order [a] sampler.

Jeremy wants to read this. Should I burn it? What is the use if I do burn it. So much has gone on from green cover to brown cover.

I have to make my graduation notebook.

I don't like MP. She doesn't really care about other people. MB is stupid.

Why don't I ever write in this book? School is OK. This year went by so fast. I am going to England in 250 days. Am I really going alone? CJ hasn't written to me. I miss her.

Soon I will begin another theme book. I wonder if I should use that marble one.

Note:
I don't remember this. And I never drank warm milk to sleep. I thought it tasted awful. I guess I also thought it sounded like something a cultured person would do, so I wrote it in here.

October 27, 1975 In which I contemplate the future Dona

2008-01-10T21:03:00.000-05:00

Monday
11:oo pm

Needless to say, I haven't written for a long time. One month! I want to finish this before the new year. I wonder what it will be like, looking back at this mixed-up journal in twenty years. I've gone from age 16 to 19 in these few pages. From my first real boyfriend to my fiance . This journal has traveled with me on the farthest journey I've ever been away from home and it's always been at my side. I don't know if I've ever slept anywhere without it. And what do I have to show? Not much writing, I'll grant that.

Will this stuff interest me in years hence? Will I say, "Oh, yes I remember Jeremy, I thought I was in love with him" or "Oh Jeremy, remember this?" Que sera sera whatever will be will be.

I haven't even mentioned I'm working at Zayre. Nothing much to say on that subject -- it's money.

I'm going back to England this summer. I am, that is, if I can keep the money. I don't know about myself and my debts. Soon though that money will build up and up in the account and I will be rich.

Note:
Don't recall writing this, but I do recall wondering what future selves would think of my journals.

Zayre - I was a jewelry clerk. Zayre was like K-Mart. I sold costume jewelry.

I did get to England that summer. Airfare must have been low or I was a pretty good saver.

Regarding Zayre: From Wikipedia: (this is classic as we said back then)

Regarding Zayre: From Wikipedia:The original name of the company was "Zayre Gut," which means "very good" in Yiddish. Not having enough money to pay for a sign that included both words, ownership instead installed the first word "ZAYRE" to the front of their building with the intentions of adding the "GUT" later. However, the company became branded as "ZAYRE" and the owners feared that adding the second half of the name might confuse customers.

September 27, 1975 In which I lose my temper and rearrange my room.

2008-01-10T20:43:00.000-05:00

I'm nineteen. One year older than my last entry. That was just fort he record. I've just written in my English journal. It's a hard thing to do -- keeping two journals and a journal letter. Never mind.

I had a bad start to a pretty good day. Jeremy's present came -- broken. I screamed and called him stupid for not wrapping it better and saying how better I was because I wrapped his present better. Then, after I cooled down I looked at the gift. It was beautiful -- two little bunnies in bed. One asleep and one wide awake. I thought how I could fix it and three hours later had it pretty much repaired. Then I came up to my room and found (in the attic) the mirror "shadow box" and put it up and put all my "knick-knacks" on it. Then I changed my room around because I wanted room for my poster that had to be moved because of the shadow box. Anyway, my room is in an uproar.

Note:
I remember that day well. I think most of my family remembers it too, including my cousin Bob. I had a helluva temper back then.

I, just now, spent 20 minutes searching in the newall for the ceramic rabbits in bed figurine, but didn't locate it. I wanted to post a photo. It is 30+ years old after all. And I still have it. Somewhere.

August 18, 1975 In which I write about Jeremy

2008-01-10T20:33:00.000-05:00

Saturday

Why can't I write in here regularly. It is not because I don't have lots of time.

Twenty-three days have passed since the latest entry. Jeremy drew the unicorn during those final two weeks. I think I had been upset about my room or something. Jeremy is gone now. He left August 9th at 9:30 pm.

The bus station was a riot. They -- Jeremy and Neil -- were supposed to leave at 8:05 and they didn't leave until 9:30.

The pictures are still at the Nelson's. I am hoping they come soon.

I am trying to gather enough courage to get a job. I need one. There is no doubt about that. If Idon't get to England next summer Jeremy will never forgive me.

Note:
While I don't remember writing this or the bus station, I do remember photos of the bus station. I remember Neil. I'm not sure who he stayed with, but it might have been Sue Burkart.

I don't recall needing a job, but since I ended up getting one, I guess I did.

July 26, 1975 In which I think about Jeremy leaving

2007-12-03T10:10:00.001-05:00

Saturday

I've just counted the days til Jeremy leaves. Fourteen was the number that came up. I'm more frightened of the actual day than being lonely afterwards. I think my mother is trying to tell me something so I'll be off.

Note:
I remember dreading the end of our visits so much that the last few days were ruined by it. My mom said it was to prepare each other for our eventual deaths. Gee, thanks Mom.

The Unicorn drawing was done by Jeremy. I was a big fan of Unicorns back then. (along with most other teenaged girls I imagine)

Friday, July 25, 1975 In which I think about the passing of time.

2007-12-03T09:55:00.001-05:00

Jeremy is down playing pool with Mark Olson. This is probably the first time we've been apart long enough for me to write a lot.

Trouble is is that I haven't much to write.

The time has gone fast. I guess I knew it would -- I remember that I once had a philosiphy that time goes on no matter what the instance or feeling.

Note:
I think my philosophy was more like, time goes on at the same pace, no matter the instance or feeling.

Wednesday, July 23, 1975 In Which I cater to a male ego.

2007-11-13T15:00:00.000-05:00

I have just catered to a male ego by losing a game. I wanted to win yet I wanted to lose more -- because I knew that Jeremy would be put down if he lost. I didn't let him win -- shear fate helped him win.

He is in the bathroom now -- he's just flushed the toilet. I'm going to have to stop.

Note:
So did I let him win or not? Either I did or didn't, cannot be both. I don't remember that game, but I do remember losing a checkers game to my cousin Jim once on purpose. It was unimportant to me and important to him, I suppose.

July 14, 1975 In which I write about Jeremy's visit

2007-05-04T11:11:00.000-04:00

Monday

10:20 am

It is surprising that I have not written about Jeremy yet. He arrived here 12 days ago on July 1. We left for Minocqua on the 3^rd and got back yesterday. All-in-all the time has been great and my love for Jeremy has grown with each passing day. We have had arguments - or "fall-outs" which usually were instigated by my awful temper or moods. I do love him though - there is no doubting that fact. Cindy may be coming back to Elgin - we got a post card from her and couldn't make it out. That will be great!

Got to go now - my mom is wanting breakfast. (actually this probably says -- my man is wanting breakfast now that I look at it again.)

Note:
Cindy's handwriting was usually difficult to read, so that's why the post card was indecipherable, I suppose.

June 26, 1975 In which Stephanie visits again

2007-05-04T10:59:00.000-04:00

Thursday

Stephanie was over today. She's out here for a few days.

I wish I could think of things to say when she is here, but I guess I'm afraid of sounding like a prude or something. She told me that the man she is living with isn't the one she married. It doesn't matter to me one way or another -- as long as she is happy, I suppose.

She has a book for me to read. She wants to stop over before she leaves to meet Jeremy.

She has once more invited me to come out to California. I hope that someday I can make it. I'd like to visit all the states at least once.

Note:
The book Stephanie loaned me was Narcissus and Goldmund by Herman Hesse. I think I still have it.

I did eventually visit Stephanie in California - about eight years later when we were spending time in LA.

June 22, 1975 In which our tv dies

2007-05-04T10:40:00.000-04:00

Saturday

11:06 p. m.

I am not angry now. :-) I am sort of nothing. Lightening struck our T.V. antenna tonight - no Monty Python's Flying Circus. :-(

I went to Bill & Sue's picnic today. Actually I am tired.

Note:
I'm pretty sure that this was the lightening strike that set us on a
year-long involuntary TV fast. Maybe my folks couldn't afford a new one?

Bill and Sue - that would be Bill P. and his first wife. His parents were
my parent's best friends. Don't remember the picnic.
Interesting to note - I got married exactly 10 years later.

June 16, 1975 In which I am angry and hate my hair-do

2007-05-04T10:34:00.000-04:00

Monday

I am angry. I've got a tightness in my stomach. I have no reason to be angry. Why do I get angry? My pants are uncomfortable. They don't bend much.

I am angry because mother won't take me downtown to pick up my watch. She didn't like it anyway -- oh, that's not true. Why can't I write neatly when I'm upset? Why can't I write neatly period? Why won't this darn feeling leave? Why won't it pass from my body like it did that time with Sue?

Why do I not like my hair? I parted it on the side for a change and Mom & Dad both liked it. But I don't. If I change now they will accuse me of not liking just to spite them.

Note:
Don't remember this. Don't remember the time I got over anger with Sue. Don't remember parting my hair on the side.

June 12, 1975 In which I write a bit about my father

2007-05-04T10:28:00.000-04:00

Thursday

Father -

A masculine, happy man is my Dad.

I hardly remember him in the first few years of my life. His appearance wasn't sudden. He sort of melted into the picture.

Note:
Considering what's become of my father, this is a bittersweet entry. I wish I'd written more at the time. I think I did write something somewhere, about my relationship with my dad. It will be interesting to read it if I find it.

June 5, 1975 In which I have a self-evaluation session.

2007-03-23T13:22:00.000-04:00

Unbelivable! I am back once more this week. Summer or Spring must do something to make me write more often.

I need to make some decisions. Very important ones as a matter of fact. See, I've come to the conclusion that I am myself - no one else - and I know what's best for me better than anyone.

#1 Do I want to go to college?
Pros- Good Pay afterward Become more learned Self-satisfying Better Job	Cons- Costs money Hard work Get up early Exams

Well, maybe I don't want intensly to go, but I have to - for myself and for my family. No! Leave family out of it. This is my own evaluation.

#2 (the hardest) What about Jeremy?
Do I love him? Yes, but I didn't ever have much experience with other guys to know if this is "love or lust". I do want him physically, but my feeling is deeper than that. His interests, his mind. I love his love for me.
Yeah, it's love.I suppose I knew that answer but it has bothered me from time to time.

#3 What are my feelings towards sex?

Sex. What does that wird signify? My first thought is dirt. Why? That can't be how I was brought up. Does society do it? Make me feel that way I mean?

Then, mingled with that is fear and ~~pleasure~~ desire. I fear sex, but I want it too. I am afraid of what my first time in bed with a man will be like, but I am also wanting that time to come.

What about simple kissing and touching? I am embarrassed about that too. I wish there were nothing to fear of sex. Why do I worry about what others think? I'd like to just go out and let what happens happen. I wish I could be impulsive more often. I think that sex is an impulsive thing. Not a let's do IT a week from Friday at 3:00.

Wow! I guess I have a lot of feelings on that subject. (no pun intended)

I guess I was given an overdose of guilt feelings.

Note:
Ok, not a lot to say on that post. I think I said it all. I am surprised that I questioned going to college though. I thought I wanted to go.

June 3, 1975 In which I write about a movie

2007-03-23T12:43:00.000-04:00

Tuesday

Not much time to write. I just wanted to record my emotions of the film, A War of Children. It may have been dramatized, but there is a conflict going on in Ireland. Therer is a hell going on there. I vow to go there someday and get the truth. I've heard so many sides of it. How can God let things like that happen?

A mother tarred and feathered her own daughter for sleeping with a British soldier. A British soldier hit a little boy with the end of his rifel, killing him. I am thankful for living in a peacful place but I can't help wanting to help those who are in war places.

Note:
I remember this movie, but when I was typing the above had it confused with a movie called Children in the Crossfire. An Internet search reveals that both movies were directed by the same man. After the second film I wanted to have a Catholic and Protestant Irish child stay with us for a summer - like in the movie. I wonder if that program is still going. Good old Internet - Yep it is.

June 2, 1975 In which high school ends

2007-03-23T12:36:00.000-04:00

Monday

I've been looking through this journal for a while. Some entries sound so stupid - other squite profound (for myself).

Today was the last day at Larkin High and I only cried once - Kathy B. gave me a card on which she wrote a verse. Of all the people I've met recently I think I'll miss her the most. We had great talks.

I only knew her for a while, but I really love her. She's a super person.

I want to write down my feelings on he last day of school so I'll have something to look back on in years to come.

Ma's making dinner. I really should help her.

I love her too.

Note:
I wonder what happened to Kathy B. She was nice, but I don't have any solid
memories of her - just a vague she was there, she was fun.

The names I called my mom. Sometimes mom, sometimes mother - now Ma? Was
that supposed to be a joke or affectionate?

May 6, 1975 In which I wonder what my future will hold

2007-03-23T12:11:00.000-04:00

Tuesday

10:11 pm

I don't know why I am writing this now. I don't have anything to say. I don't have any time either. I've been reading my former entries. Wouldn't it be super if I would become an author? Then I could look back at my journal for ideas of stories. I wonder what I'll be doing in ten years. Will I be married? If so, to whom? Jeremy? I hope so. I was thinking about him - not that it is rare to think of him - and the fact that he's British. I knew three years ago that I would marry an Englishman. I remember when I thought that I was falling in "like" with Dan that I said to myself I can't like him - he's not a "rich Englishman". Well, Jeremy may not be rich, but he's English. I think that England must hold some sort of mystical powers for me or something. It must if I would consider spending the rest of my life there. I do love England. It must be that I've fallen in love with the country. Before going even. In seventh grade already I thought the country wonderful. I think though I was born and raised in America and I do love it here very much - that it is like my parents. But now England has proposed to me and I want to go with Her. I can't explain it. It's more than the fact that I love and want to marry on of Her inhabitants.

I don't think I'm going to get my room cleaned - I'll do it tomorrow.

18 days left of high school. About 56 days until Jeremy comes.

Note:
I remember the feelings I had about my love for England. Whenever I'd
land there I felt as if I were going home.
I wish I'd written more about what I thought I'd be doing in ten years. Ten years after this entry I was getting ready to be married - later that summer.

April 12, 1975 In which I think about anniversaries and kisses

2007-03-23T12:00:00.000-04:00

Saturday

This is it. After tonight I will have known what Jeremy looked like for 365 days. One full revolution around the sun by the earth. I feel apprehensive about something. Something is going to begin... or end!

What though? It is, no doubt, due to my wild imagination and sentimentality. Of course it is. Why should I think so much about dates? Probably because I am a Virgo. And the reason I question the reason is the Leo in me. Naw! That stuff ain't true!

Soon it will be one year from the date of our first kiss - which always is a landmark in my mind. I still remember the day Bob first kissed me. Just a peck compared to Jeremy's kiss. I was so proud. I wasn't "Sweet 16 and never been kissed" anymore. Then practically a year passed until Jeremy's kiss. Then six weeks until Jeremy's kiss in England. It's been nine months since my lips have touched his.

I remember clearly the feeling of helplessness as we said goodbye. There was nothing either of us could do. Just hold onto the end. The last embrace was one of such passion to last nine...ten...eleven months. How were we sure that we would ever meet again? Nothing's ever positive.

Note:
Obviously I've never gotten over looking back at
the past and thinking about milestones. Isn't that why I'm doing this?

March 29, 1975 In which I am lonely and jealous

2007-03-23T10:57:00.000-04:00

Saturday

11:30 am

What have I done this vacation? Nothing! When I go back to school Lori will have done a million things and I will pretend to listen, but I will be angry inside - perhaps it will rise to the surface and I will scream. No - it won't, I'd better not. I don't have many close friends as it is, why lose Lori?

What happened to all my friends? Have they died? No, I have. I have no money with which to go out anyway.

I'm tucked away in a little corner of the world and no one ever sees me. no one cares. No one says, "Let's call Dona." Maybe I talk about Jeremy too much. Is that possible? I have vowed not to mention him sometimes - but I get so sick of "Mark this, Glenn that" and now it's Jim this and that" too.

Am I jealous that I don't have a boyfriend or three here? Should I really be saving myself for Jeremy so well? But he has no fear of me being "taken away" because no one shows any interest anyway.

I feel so ugly lately. Why? My teeth are clean - as of this morning. I really need to escape! Perhaps I'm missing school. (Ick - missing school?! No way.). It must be that I am missing people! Oh, my parents are all right and Kevin is a lot of fun, but I need the company of people my own age. I had a great time last Sunday.

Well with Grandma coming it will be a change. Perhaps people will be coming over.

I'd like to take a walk, but where to? It is probably too cold anyway. Maybe I will get a letter from Jeremy or Cindy - or Meg - she owes me one. Pam has boring letters. Anyway I got one from her yesterday. It would be great if the tape would arrive to day.

I've got to finish [reading] that Essay for English. It is so boring! I'm not hungry so I think I'll read it after I make my bed. Then I'll read That Hideous Strength. I don't quite understand that either. My gosh, I'm in a terrible mess.

Note:
I remember being jealous of Lori - I'd always considered her a little nerdy, so when she had a string of boyfriends I was surprised and, yes, jealous.
As for the feelings of not having friends - I don't know why I felt like that - I mean where the friends went. I was a little hard to get along with - so that's most likely the story.

March 25, 1975 In which it snows, I get gloomy and consider colleges

2007-03-10T10:44:00.000-05:00

Tuesday

12:17 pm

See the date? ^↑ It snowed yesterday - and today it is snowing! SNOWING! And cold. Ma Nature must have something against green this year.

I was sick on Friday - great day to be sick, huh? The day before vacation. Oh well, at least I finished The Hollow Hills. That was a great book.

I also read - in one day mind you- The Last Unicorn. It was a good book too. I think I'll have Jeremy read it - he should enjoy it. It has a sad -sniff- ending but things will work out.

I've lost all of my good pens. That is very upsetting, I must say. I'm listening to my "John Denver's Greatest Hits" album. Leaving on a Jet Plane is playing now. It doesn't make me cry anymore - unless I'm feeling gloomy anyhow. I usually get gloomy after hearing it though. Good God! I was mistaken. It does bring tears to my eyes.

I always thought being in love as different than I know it. I guess I had in mind being with my love - most of the time - not the other way around. And everyone calls me "lucky". Anyone with a love so close doesn't realize how lucky they are. But then - I am lucky - not because I am in love with an English guy - but that the person I love loves me back - and that boy / man is Jeremy R. B.

Today is the anniversary of the downfall of Barad-dûr in S. R. 1419 so says my J. R. R. Tolkien Calendar. I really must finish Return of the King. It isn't doing any good at school - I hardly understand it as it is, and reading on the bus is hopeless.

I just mailed three letters - one to Stephanie, Mr & Mrs B. and one to Beth Navin (from National College). Now I must find Janet's letter, fill out the Basic Opportunity Grant and write to Northeastern. I have to get ready for Grandma - she is having trouble with her operation. I hope she is okay. I think mother is really worried about her - I don't blame her.

Note:
I think I remember this day. I think I even took a photograph of the snow on the roof (then misremembered it as May. I remember reading the three books mentioned in this post.

I don't remember writing to colleges though - I wanted to go to both Northeaster in Boston and the one in Chicago. My father made so little money I could pretty much go anywhere in state (perhaps even out of state) for nothing. Pretty weird - I remember talking to my counselor and he couldn't figure out why my parents insisted on sending me to ECC and Northern when my test scores were decent and I was eligible for financial aid - the kind I didn't have to pay back even.

Things happen for a reason. Had I not gone to ECC I would not have known Debbie. Then perhaps I would not have had anything to talk to Dean about when we first met. Then my children would not be here. Now that's a scary thought.

March 13, 1975 In which I want inspiration

2007-03-10T10:10:00.000-05:00

Thursday

10:30 pm

I say the dumbest things sometimes. Then it plagues me forever. Oh well, I guess everyone feels like that at times.

I painted a wooden shelf and my reading lamp. The lamp is really nice - I put flowers and butterflies on it. I was going to clean the basement, but it was too dusty.

I found a picture of Christ that used to hang above my bed when I was young. I hung it next to my bed -for some reason I feel secure knowing he's there, watching over me.

I wonder who first painted Christ in the image he is always portrayed. Did the artist get an inspiration?

Speaking about inspirations, I'd like one. I wish I had a fantastic thing to write about.

Note:
Until very recently I would feel that anytime I opened my mouth to talk, I'd say something stupid. Now it just happens occasionally.

The lamp I painted is still working and lighting the room as I type this now. Only it is back to its green color. My husband liked the lamp, but didn't like the bright yellow with poorly painted butterflies and flowers. It looks better now, but it is still kind of sad. I liked it yellow.

A few years ago I wrote a blog entry about the picture of Jesus that I mention in this journal entry.

March 1, 1975 In which I dream I cried

2007-03-10T09:59:00.000-05:00

12:00 mid day

I'd better write more often if I expect to have anything interesting to read in future years. I've become so disappointed with myself lately. I can't seem to get anything done. Cinder is disappointed in me too. She is biting my hand.

I had a dream last night that the new kids from England came and I cried as they walked in the building because this year I wouldn't be able to do anything with them. Oh well, I had my time. I am so looking forward to this summer. We'll take Jeremy everywhere.

Cindy M. and I are going to write a petition against Woodruff and Edwards pollution. We really need to get together to make it up. I've got a lot to do now - I am really trying to change the rut I've gotten myself into. It's Hell.

Note:
I can imagine the dream - and feeling left out. But I still had a link to England - and would for years to come.

I hope I write about how the Woodruff and Edwards thing turned out. If not, I wrote about it elsewhere.

February 10, 1975 In which I write about a lot of things

2007-03-10T09:41:00.000-05:00

Monday

3:18 pm

What a crazy entry ↑. Was I drunk?

I've just woken up. Why do I always fall asleep? I'm not really tired - perhaps Daddy's right - I'm just bored with life. I hope not.

Awful things have been happening. - Corrine (Aunt) sent Jim and Bob to their father - or at least they left and are living with their dad. I hate divorce. When mother told me I began to cry - that's how upset it made me. I wish I could help them - but perhaps they are happier. I'm just afraid that we will J & B as much as we see Julie and Debbie. I wonder how they are getting on. I hope that someday Jim and I can have a real good talk. I vow that when Jeremy and I are married we will visit Jim and Lori (or whomever) and Bob & whomever.

Cinder is blocking my way now - she just sat on the book and her paw is right above my writing. She is really beautiful - is my Cinder. Now she is sniffing me.

I wonder if Jeremy will like Cinder. I hope so. He will probably end up sleeping with her sometimes, Cindy did.

I talked to Sue B. today. I haven't talked to her for a long time - I wish we could be as close as we once were - or were we close? I think not. I think that Sue B. finds it difficult to be close to anyone. That's too bad - she is a lot of fun.

Lori and I skipped Gym today. We were going to walk to Highland to see her mother but since the chill factor was 17º below zero we had second thoughts. Instead we went to McDonald's.

I told Mr. Caldwell that the term "Chuck" is still used in England. Then I ended up telling him that I had a boyfriend there. He wanted to know the facts so I talked to him for a while - he is a really good teacher.

Note:
Don't remember being tired a lot - must have been the teen years.

Jim and Bob - Bob ended up moving in with us, Jim went back to his mom eventually. I rarely saw Jim after I was married. He got married after I did and I think we saw him once then. I wish I'd kept my vow and seen him more often. He died a number of years ago.

Sue B. once confided that she did have trouble being close to people, but she is now happily married with two teen boys. She lives not far from us, but we rarely see her. We need to fix that. I always like being with her and I like her husband.

January 1, 1975 In which I have ink stained fingers and misspell anno domini

2007-03-10T09:33:00.000-05:00

10:07 pm

New Year - New section - New me? No, same old ink stained me. How does one hold a fountain pen neatly? My entire hand is splotched with blue/black ink - how grotesque. Oh well, no matter -- I'll be asleep soon and won't be able to see the ink since my eyes will be shut and the light will be off.

Hey man, it's the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and seventy-five addio dominis. Is that right? I know that it isn't after death. Oh well, who cares. No one is going to read this but me - and perhaps Jeremy, until I die so why worry.

I like that guy and awful lot. I think he likes me too. I wish we could be together again. Oh well, when we are married... Married? Am I getting married? Me - the girl who swore to die an old maid - but not a virgin. Bye

Note
Normally I fix spelling mistakes when transcribing this, but the addio dominis was too cute - and if I'd corrected it, it would have lost context in a way.

Funny how I had no idea I'd ever post these words somewhere for the world to see.

Subject | January 1, 1975 -

2007-03-10T09:31:00.000-05:00

War
Sex
Jeremy
Love
College

December 31, 1974 In which I write about 1974 some more

2007-02-05T10:05:00.000-05:00

10:05

Well, 1974 is almost over. Later I'll be sad, I'm too excited to be sad. I just conversed with Jeremy, his mother and father. My stomach doesn't feel quite right — all excited and churning.

11:00

I've calmed down now. Kevin and I are playing Crazy 8's. I've got to think of two pages of things to say now before midnight.

We went out to dinner tonight - to the Nordic [steakhouse]. Daddy mentioned calling England. I thought he was kidding. He kept on saying it and that he would pay for it. well, I was nervous and didn't want to call so he called and got Mr. B after quite a few rings and then I got on the phone and talked to Jeremy and his parents. I could think of nothing to say and kept on jumping from one foot to another. (That wasn't due to having to use the toilet either). Anyway, that was the most spectacular New Year Eve's present I've ever received!

Well, back to the review of my year. It ws pretty good. Again, it had a few ups and downs. Of course the top of the list is Jeremy, closely followed by England. Then third place is tied with so many others I couldn't begin to name them and be fair.

All in all, life was pretty kind to me. My very first real love ("I love you" kind of love) I hope it is my only love from now on. Jeremy is a wonderful person and I'm in Love with him and he loves me too (three, four etc [smiley face]).

A year ago tonight I was at Turner's feeling sad. Tonight I feel anticipation - wondering what next year will bring. College! My god! I'm going to college next year. Pretty soon (34 minutes to be exact) next year will be this year and this year will be last year. Strange! Unbelievable!

I hope I keep up this tradition — actually this is my second annual New Year's eve writing in my journal.

Resolutions? Made any? (yeah, learn how to spell!!!) Just like last year's to be myself, I guess. But moreso. I don't have the male sex to worry about (except my male).

I've decided not to worry about my figure. It is good enough for me I'm sure that I have other qualities that make up for my bosom.

I've made another decision — a very important decision — to take up Special Education and go to ECC one year and finish up at Northeastern.

I met a bunch of superfantastic people this year, especially Chris King, Nigel, Mr. and Mrs. Burgoyne, Mr and Mrs. Chadwick, Sue B., Julia T., Kathy and I forgot - oh dear. Renee and Nancy, all the kids at TAP. I've also met myself. That was the most important meeting I've had. I must live with myself all my life. I'd better like me.

My best friend left for Spain this year. (now 15 minutes left in it!) Sad parting. I had a great time with her in other years. I guess in our growing up we grew apart.

Lori and I became close and then apart. I think that this year has made me harder, yet softer in some ways.

I think I've come back to God. I lost him a while ago — I don't know exactly when. Jeremy has helped me find religion.

I've decided to be cremated. Grotesque to think about now - but one never knows.

I decided to marry Jeremy and have his baby (or two). All the time before I wouldn't dream of having a kid. (pain and embarrassing).

I played Guitar a bit this year (last year too).

I turned of age this year. My god — only 10 more minutes of 1974.

I love you 1974. You have been so kind to me. I hope you have a nice trip to wherever you go after...

Hey — there will never be another 1974. It is unique. So am I — everything is — in their own way.

I will treasure 1974 in my heart forever.

As last year I will litter the back side of this paper with memories of 1974.

I love Jeremy. (1974 - thank you for giving him to me, Farewell! (5 min left))

Note:
One thing that I didn't mention about this year was Betsy's death. She was a friend from junior high - we were not close anymore, but at one time were friends. In junior high she began wearing a wig. Wigs were fashionable then, so I assumed she just liked wearing the wig for show. I made a remark once at the lunch table that she lookd better with her real hair.

I discovered a year or two later that she wore the wig because she was going through chemotherapy. She had leukemia. She died during the visit of the British students in April. I remember Lori telling me about Betsy's death after I told Lori about the fun I'd had on a trip with the British students.

It pains me that I was so selfish. A fellow student struggled for and lost her life and I didn't even have the decency to document it, let alone visit her in the hospital or even go to her funeral.

December 30, 1974 In which I list all the highights of 1974

2007-02-05T09:42:00.000-05:00

I guess that it is about time for my run-down of the year nineteen hundred and seventy-four AD

I think I will try a month-by-month review:

January: Began working at Ben Franklin, broke old specs & got oval wire rims, Greg began taking me to school, Dan T's B'day party [drawing of present]

February: Ears pierced

March: Rock-a-thon, Sue "sister" B.

April: Vilma & others, Chris, JEREMY, Vilma leaving, C. S. Lewis & J. R. R. Tolkien Festival, The Sting, The Great Gatsby, Marcia's Party

May: Planting Eric, The Creek, Other Parties, Good-bye, First love letter from Jeremy, Prom

June: First Airplane ride, England! Telephone call to Jeremy, Reunion of two lovers

July: Proposal, France, Scotland, Lake District, Flamborough Head etc, Parting & tears #2

August: 18 years old! Goodbye to Cindy

September: A senior!

October: -----------------

November: Northeastern, ~~Hank's~~ death

December: J.R.R Tolkien Calendar & Call to Jeremy

Note:
It seemed as if 1974 was a good year for me. It is funny to note that I crossed out the r in lovers to make it loves. Perhaps lovers meant something to physical for me. I don't remember who Hank was whose name I crossed out before the word death.

December 26, 1974 In which I list my Christmas presents and rearrange my room

2007-02-05T08:40:00.000-05:00

10:54 pm

Pam was over today. It was nice to see her. My gifts were:

2 JRR Tolkien calendars (I'm sending one to Jeremy)

1 from Renee & Nancy
1 from Mom & Dad

Mel Meyer gave me a cosmetic case and change purse in matching colors
Sue B gave me a memo board of the sea
Lori S. gave me a bottle of Intimate Cream Sachet
Kevin gave me a tin of biscuits (bickies)
I got a lavender toga nightgown
Purse
Book (The Hollow Hills)
Book of Sweets
Embroidered lion - very Aslanish
white blouse
rosebud earrings
silver cross from mom and dad
Both grandmothers gave me $10
Aunt Pat gave me $5
Jeremy sent me a bracelet

I got a letter from Jeremy today. I replied very harshly. I don't want to discuss it. I wish we were together. I'm cold.

I changed my room around today.

There is now much more room.

Note:
I remember many of those Christmas gifts. I still have the Embroidered Aslanish lion, in fact it is in the other room.

December 14, 1974 In which I write a bad poem and fairy story about love

2007-02-05T08:33:00.000-05:00

Saturday

I don't know why I am writing tonight. Because I feel like it I guess. Good reason.

I wish I could write a poem
It is a great ambition for me.
Words don't come to me,
As they do for some.

Once, not too very long ago a young princess lived. She lived in a beautiful house with two wonderful parents and a great kid brother. Her life was quiet and full of peace. That was before...before the prince charming stopped by for directions to the next castle. As soon as the princess and prince saw each other they knew that they loved each other. Now that the princess has found love her life is in a constant turmoil.

Note:
Not much to say about this entry. I guess I felt in turmoil and needed a different way to express it than simple teen angst.

23/24th Novemer, 1974 In which I have a bunch of questions

2007-01-31T20:19:00.000-05:00

Saturday/Sunday

I love Jeremy.

What does that mean? "I" means Dona Lee Patrick, that's simple. "Jeremy" is Jeremy Richard Burgyone. But what is love? Pleasure? Security? I didn't get a letter from him this week. When this happens I begin wondering what life without him would be like. Sometimes I use him for a crutch and a reason that I don't date. It is nice having a reason instead of the fact that no one asked me.

"The Sting" — such memories. The song is playing now. "Our song" The first time he put his arm around me was during this song. We kissed during this song in England. When I remember our happy times together I know I couldn't live without him. I shall never love another human being as I love him. I want to have his children, but I'm frightened. I think about death a lot. Jeremy's death, my own. That I have some terminal illness or he was blown up or some terrible thing such as that.

David was back the other day. He hasn't been around for years. I used to conjure up some pretty weird adventures for us to go on. Being spys and scuh. Funny thing though, we never kissed or anything in my fantasies but when he came back we were quite intimate. He was my imaginary crutch in Junior High. Then I thought I had Gary. Then I just suffered, knowing that imaging was getting me nowhere. Sometimes now I wish I could date. But not often as I hate large parties. I want to go out with some guy and make out with him in a car — sometimes. But that wave of "sexual desire" fades fast and I'm myself again, writing to Jeremy in letters filled with love. I love him very much. I shall never cease.

Note:
More angst filled questions, probably brought on by studying psychology at an early age.

David is another story. An embarrassing one at that. In Junior High school I pretended I was dating David Henesey from Dark Shadows. I'm pretty sure I only pretended to myself, not to the general public. The only time I really remember prentending this was during chorus. I had no singing vocie, so would concentrate on my imagenary boyfriend — David — while I squawked.

17th October, 1974 In which I spout cliches ad nauseam

2007-01-31T18:42:00.000-05:00

What is important? Is money important? Is love? Material/Idealistic - what am I? Who am I? Why am I me? Why am I asking such unanswerable questions? Why are they unanswerable? Life is important I guess. Happiness in life is important. I am happy. Why am I happy? What do I really have that is important? I've got love. Someone loves me and I love back. In fact a few people love me. I love them. I could really be myself if I could try. I'm waiting for tomorrow. Tomorrow never ocmes. Today is yesterday's tomorrow and tomorrow's yesterday.

I wish I could sing. I wish I could do many things. I wish Eve had never eaten that apple. Maybe the important things are what come from onself. Money doesn't, so money isn't important. Singing is. Loving is. Sight is. But nature is important because it is beautiful.. Oh well. Ta-ra.

Note:
It is obvious I was taking psychology. Enough said. Geesh.

September 7, 1974 In which I worry about censorship

2007-01-31T10:38:00.000-05:00

2:21 pm

In a letter the other day Jeremy suggested, after we are married, to read each other's journals. I don't know how I like that idea. But I suppose that after we are married we will have no secrets from each other. Not that I have any from him now, but what if someday I do? I won't even be able to write it down. I feel now that I must censor what I write. I'm still not going to worry about spelling things wrong.

I talked to Sue this morning. She is going to ruin what she made, I'm afraid. She wants Drooper to stay with her but it can only be for two or three weeks. That means that Jeremy can only stay for that long. She says that we will end up hating each other (Jeremy and I). That's not true. I will never hate him. I don't think I could hate him if he turned Communist. I am really in love with him. Real love - not Lust like Mr. Ismail says.

Note:
I kind of remember Jeremy suggesting this. I don't remember my reaction, but apparently I was against it, and with good reason. Of course, I am posting my journal online for the world to see, but still...

How funny that I thought the worst thing someone could become was a Communist. How I've changed. Now I think I'd switch that word to Republican.

I have no idea who Drooper was - probably a British guy that Sue fancied. He didn't come to the States the next summer when Jeremy did.

Mr Ismail was my high school psychology teacher and he challenged us to define love. He countered each definition we gave with, "That's Lust, not love". He defined it as wanting to spend 95% of your free time with the object of your desire. I think he was nuts.

September 1, 1974 In which I am, again, depressed. Or something.

2007-01-31T10:26:00.000-05:00

Almost a month since I last wrote. It's been a long time. School begins in two days. Why am I so depressed? Why? I feel like crying- but not one tear will come. I don't think I feel this way because I miss Jeremy. I do miss him, more than ever, but it's more than missing him I feel. Something else. Not having a job? Could be. My room is clean for once. What else could it be? Could be that Jeremy is dreaming about me or something. Or maybe something terrible has happened to him. God not that, can't be it. Why don't I just cry? Everything would be alright then. Perhaps. I'm empty. I feel like my soul has left my body. I feel like I'm being dragged, or pushed or... I don't know. Forget it.

Note:
I don't remember this at all, but I do remember wanting to cry sometimes - that crying completely cleaned me out. I imagine it was all hormones, but at the time, of course didn't know that.

August 4, 1974 In which I am depressed and melodramatic

2007-01-29T14:57:00.000-05:00

My entries are few and far between lately. I've been busy and happy lately. But now I am depressed. My heart hangs heavy. I want to cry but tears won't come. Why? I feel so depressed. Why? Shouldn't I be happy? I wish I could sleep for six years and wake up in Jeremy's arms. Then life would be perfect. Or would it? No, of course not. I would soon find something else to put me down.

I want to cry so badly, but I just can't.

No job, no excitement, a boyfriend 3,948 miles away. How do I love him? Let me count the ways

My body needs something. What is it? Am I depressed because it is my time? Probably. Take a midol, right?

Note:
This is cringeworthy! And melodramatic.

July 22, 1974 In which we say goodbye

2007-01-29T14:33:00.000-05:00

The day I've dreaded for ages has arrived. I said goodbye to Jez and his family. Tomorrow I say goodbye to England. It has really been great fun while it lasted. I can't wait until Jeremy and I are together forever. Saying goodbye to loved ones is about the hardest thing I can think of to do. I'm going to begin a letter to Jeremy now.

Note:
This was the first of many partings between Jeremy and me, and each one was as hard as the next, even after we'd broken up. My mom said it was preparing us for the death of the other. Pretty morbid way to put it, and I don't think she was right.

We visited Jeremy and his wife, Frances, in 2002 and saying goodbye that time was hard as well. Mostly because I knew I'd most likely never see him again.

The photograph is of Jeremy and his parents, taken from the bus window.

July 10, 1974 In which I attend a class

2007-01-29T14:28:00.000-05:00

10:05 am

I'm in biology class now. Very boring - but we have to go to some classes Mr. Jenkins says. I wish I had time to write all of what I've done in England. I would get tired of writing though.

Note:
I'd be surprised if we weren't expected to attend some classes. Isn't that why were in England?

July 8, 1974 In which we go to Harewood House

2007-01-22T14:33:00.000-05:00

Finally, here I am again. I have neglected you for so long.

Since the last entry I've told Jez that I love him after we decided that I didn't. I cried and cried. Yestersay at a place called Harewood House I said I love you to Jez: Boy was he happy. I do -- I hope. Love him, I mean.

Note:
With all of this I love him I don't love him, it is no wonder we eventually went our own ways.

3rd July, 1974 In which I don't know if I want to marry

2007-01-22T14:16:00.001-05:00

Jeremy has asked me to marry him. He did this afternoon. I said "yes". Why did I say yes? I am quite afraid that he is just a young boy in a fantasy love affair. I do love him. Engagement is a serious thing. I wish I had someone to talk to. Who could I speak with? It just hit me that Jez is only sixteen. When I was sixteen I thought I loved Gary. Remember how I planned on marrying him? Now Jez. Naybe I should let the "passion" die down a bit. I am really scared. I don't want to hurt him. I've hurt too many others. I think I am cursed with this plague that attracts boys until I push them out. God, I can't hurt him. Please, don't let me hurt him.

Note:
Yes, Jeremy asked me to marry him and I said yes. The rest is pure fantasy on my part. How did I actually believe that I was "cursed with this plague that atrracts boys"? That is plain nuts. Maybe I wished that was so. Maybe I was thinking about Bob and Dan. Yeah, probably. Not a curse though.

And I was, what? Seventeen? Not even a year older than Jeremy. I act as if it were decades ago I was sixteen. Gaaaah!

27th June, 1974 In which I list the things we did in London

2007-01-19T07:49:00.000-05:00

Thursday

One week ago today I set off on a journey I will never forget. To England. Between then and now I've seen many sights such as Guildford Cathedral, the Tower of London, Windsor Castle, St Paul's Cathedral, Westminster Abbey, and more. We also saw a play called Billy and a variety show called The Palladium or something.

Note:
I've got photos of many of these places that I will scan and add to this entry. I made a scrapbook after I returned home, that is still intact today.

I did a little research on the variety show at the Palladium, and it seems that we saw the second iteration of Sunday Night at the London Palladium. It's possible it was televised. I wonder if I knew it at the time. I do remember, however, that the British National Anthem was played and I felt honored that the entire theater stood for a US patriotic song.

June 23, 1974 In which I describe London, use the phone and see a play

2007-01-16T09:46:00.000-05:00

London

0815 hours am

London is a nice enough place. I can't quite explain the difference from America except that it is much, much older. Old and new - smack dab next to each other! One of the oldest buildings in London is framed by a high rise - very ironic. I've learned a lot from this trip so far. It's fantastic. And I will learn so much more - since I'm here, right now - seeing everything.

Hey, I called Jez. I tried once, earlier and there was no answer then later I called and Mrs. Burgoyne answered. I told her who I was and she seemed quite pleased. I was in such a good mood after that. Talking to my future mother-in-law (?) for the first time. Wow!

We saw a beautiful play yesterday called "Billy" starring a Michael Crawford. I guess he was in Hello Dolly.

8:30 pm

I have just talked to Jez on the phone. Wow! I feel absolutely grand. I couldn't believe I really was talking to him.

As I was writing the above the phone rang and on the other end was Jez again. We talked for five minutes as we only had three before. Wow! eight glorious minutes of talking to My Jeremy. God, my love for him is bursting through the seams. I love him. I love him. I love him. I could write that forever and neve get writer's cramp. I LOVE HIM!

The first time we were cut off. I felt sad. Oh well. He called back, as I knew he would.

He said that he feels that time goes slower now that I'm so close. That is true. I feel it too. I've really got a lot to do but I can't, at least tomorrow when I get some money.

I wish Sue would hurry up and get back so I can tell her about calling Jez.

He asked for her. She ran off somewhere with Julie. I'm acting really dumb. I see how she feels about being with Julie -- but I still act dumb and, I don't know, just dumb.

Know what I want to do? I don't care about seeing any changing of the guards or anything but Jez. All I want is Jez. To heck with everything else. He is waiting in Horsforth for me. I want to go to him and never ever be separated from him again. But I will, always. We must always say goodbye for a long, long time. He is bound to find someone else, closer to his house, to love more than he claims to love me. I wont find anyone else I love as much as I love him. If he finds someone else I suppose, in time, I will marry, but I'll always love Jez. No matter how long the time or how far the distance will be. I'll always love Jeremy Richard "Eric" B.

Note:
I sort of remember calling and talking to Jeremy's mom - I remember his call more though.

I do remember the musical, though. I'm not sure I'd call it beautiful - but I'd not seen too many professional plays, so anything that didn't star classmates was good, I suppose.

I sure thought I loved Jeremy in this entry. I suppose I did - as much as any teenager can love another teenager. It was real at the time. Possibly the only problem with our relationship was the distance. We became different people during the time apart and when we got together it was hard to reconcile that person with the one we remembered from ten months earlier. It's sad though that I didn't care about the experience of being in London as much as for seeing Jeremy, but that is all normal.

21st June, 1974 In which I am finally there already!!!!

2007-01-15T20:41:00.000-05:00

Friday

Guildford, England

11:00 am

Here I am — England. I'm sitting outside a cathedral in Guildford England. The site I am looking out on is most beautiful, just as I pictured it. I wish I could believe that I am here. In England! Finally in England.

On the way here, on a bus from the airport I looked out the window and saw 2 guys (lads) on a motorcycle. The on on back looked up at me and then did a double take. So did I. I said to Sue, "Doesn't he look like Chris Mealy?" She said yeah. Then, he was still staring and as we parted he waved. I went crazy. That was Chris Mealy! I know it!!!

We met this really fantastic man. I thought he was a student, but it turns out he an art teacher. He is so funny. He's from New Jersey. Everything he said was a joke.

Note:
I remember writing this post and taking some photos (not the one here, I borrowed that from http://www.picturesofengland.com/) Of course the boy could not have been Chris Mealy, we were very far away from his home at the time.

Don't recall the comical art teacher from New Jersey at all.

20th June, 1974 In which I fly to England

2007-01-15T20:33:00.000-05:00

Thursday

Well! Here I am, in an airplane over Michigan!

This morning I got up at 7:00 (without the alarm) and realized what today was! My England Day, June 20, 1974. It began like any other day, bickering between my family, (little bit) and whatnot.

Then 9:10 came and we left for Larkin. Lori was there and I said goodbye to her. Then Cindy came and I said bye to her.

What a strange sensation, flying is. I really should do it more often! In an hour and a half I will be in New York! I will see the Statue of Liberty! Wow!!! Then I will be on my way to England! Over the ocean. The Sea! Oh my gosh, I really don't believe what is happening to me. I remember when I first heard about England. It really is unbelievable that I'm here.

Note:
I remember being excited about the flight, singing "We're going on an airplane!" with Sue B. I don't really recall much of the flight except that the plane had two stories and Sue and I got up and walked around. We asked if we could go to the other story, but were told not in flight, maybe later.

It was pretty unbelievable I was there. Things like that just didn't happen to the likes of me.

19th June, 1974 In which I use many exclaimation points and visit with an old friend

2007-01-15T08:31:00.000-05:00

Wednesday

Tomorrow is the big day! I leave for England at 9:30 am. I have a headache right now. Oh, woe is me. Nothing ever goes right - Ha, Ha. I am going to England!!! What more can I ask? I have received $270.00 this last week. Oh my gosh, what an idiot I am. I am nervous or something. I still have a lot to do.

3:40 pm

Well, wonders of wonders. Guess who I just saw! Stephanie K. (V.) I haven't seen her for years. I am so happy. She has invited me to come out sometime. I can't believe it at all! She is so great! Great!!!

Note:
I think my Aunt Ginny and Uncle Jack gave me another $100 for the trip. Not sure where the other money came from though.

Obviously I was very excited about the adventure upon which I was about to embark. I counted eight exclamation points in that short entry.

Stephanie was the daughter of a friend of my mom's. She was one or two years older than me and was a kind of free spirit. She'd moved to San Diego either during or after high school I believe she married young (she must have been married at this time as her last name was different from what I remember it to have been). I remember being awe of her and her accomplishments at the time. I don't think I knew anyone who had escaped Elgin like she did.

Many years later my then boyfriend, now husband, and I visited her in San Diego when we were living in LA one summer. We had delicious Mexican food.

I had lunch with her mother over this past Christmas holiday and she said that Stephanie is still into her music. (I remember she was in a band long ago)

10th June, 1974 In which I have cramps and more angst

2007-01-15T08:13:00.000-05:00

Monday

I got another letter from Jez today. It is really nice, as all of his letters are. It is hard to believe only ten more days to go. I've got a a lot to do, but I have awful cramps. I was really going to begin to pack. I will when the pill takes effect. I guess mom found out that it is her thyroid. I am glad.

I've still got to mail Jez's, Grandma's and Pam's letters. Sometimes I think that Jeremy is just a young boy going through a love (puppy) affair. This isn't true with me. I am true and, I don't know. I hope I can come to a realization this summer. I love Jez. He is absolutely the most wonderful person I've ever met in my life. I really want to marry him. He is so perfect. If he is at the end of it I could wait a hundred years.

Grandma Patrick said that she had something for me. I think it is money. I hope so. I need it. I now have the grand total of $43.34 in my purse, $20.00 in the Larkin Bank.

Note:
More angst over love and Jeremy. This is getting a little old, but I imagine I really was confused.

My Grandma Patrick did, indeed, have money for me. Whenever she would dispense money to her children or grandchildren, she'd go through a unusual little ritual. She'd had a mastectomy years ago (not cancer, but for some reason the doctors removed one of her breasts - infection perhaps before antibiotics?) Anyway that is where she kept her money, in the padding of her empty bra cup. So when she wanted to give someone money she would ask us to come into her room and she would undo the top buttons of her dress, reach in her bra and pull out cash. I believe she gave me $100 - a huge sum for me back then.

Notice that I've begun writing the date European style.

June 9, 1974 In which I feel artistic and dizzy

2007-01-15T08:06:00.000-05:00

Sunday

I suddenly feel artistic. Why? I don't know, maybe Jez has inspired me or something. Speaking about Jez, I am having dizzy spells all night when I think or talk of him. It could be shock or maybe just fatigue. I am going shopping with Lori S. tomorrow night. I am not sure what to buy, but I have to get a few things. I babysat last night until 4:00 am. Maybe that's why I'm blacking out every once in a while.

Note:
I don't recall these feelings at all. It was not unusual to babysit so long - I wonder who it was for this time.

June 3, 1974 In which I am restless

2007-01-15T08:02:00.000-05:00

I am so restless. I want to sleep but I have so much to do before I leave that I am kept awake worrying about it. I don't know what I want to do. Clean? I haven't studied for my Spanish final at all. What if I fail it? Then I will fail Spanish. What then? Oh shit, I don't know anything anymore.

Note:
It must have been worry and excitement about going to another country and seeing Jeremy again. I don't recall feeling restless though.

May 30, 1974 In which I enjoy prom

2007-01-13T11:16:00.000-05:00

Thursday

Last night was Prom. I had fears galore about the rotten time I was going to have. But I had a good time. Dan finally realizes our relationship. We are friends. After Prom Mike B. wanted to go to his boss's apartment. I knew why. After we got there he and his date used the bedroom. Dan couldn't believe his eyes! I said that's what I figured they would do. Dan and I talked and talked. I am so glad we are back to normal.

I really love Jeremy. I got a letter from him the other day. To to be exact (that makes eight counting the card and my parent's [letter]). One brought the news that I would be staying there for three weeks! To live in the same house as Jeremy B! My love.

Note:
My memories of Prom are different from this. I remember acting bored, so much so that someone later asked if I'd had too much to drink because it looked like I was sleeping at the table with my head down. I was offended by the entertainment - a belly dancer. I don't even have a photo of myself in my prom dress standing next to my date - my mom forgot to take a photo and Dan claims the photo his mom took didn't turn out.

I'm surprised I knew that Mike and his date were going to have sex in the bedroom. I didn't know I was so worldly wise.

As for the letter from Jeremy saying I was going to stay in his house - I guess I neglected to write that Vilma's mother wrote us and said that "under the circumstances" I was not welcome at her house.