July 23, 1973In which do something unusual

Wow! In one month I will be seventeen!
The Marshalls are moving tomorrow. It seems kind of sad.

2:30 pm
I never thought I'd have the courage to do it! But, here I am, at Wing Park, sitting under a tree, writing in my journal. It is a terribly gloomy day and I had to deliver some letters for mother and I felt like acting like an authoress of olden days. I wonder if anyone in the world has ever done this besides me -- It's so wonderful having a bike!!!

I am looking at a Chetek setting while feeling an Elgin wind. This really isn't a very good place, I think I will move on and maybe read a chapter of Five Smooth Stones at the new location.

Note:
It is sad to think that I was nearly seventeen years old and had never gone alone to Wing Park. Amazing that it took so much courage. Funny how I wondered if anyone else had ever done the same - what, ridden a bike to a park and written in a journal? Or ridden to Wing Park and written anything at all?

I vividly remember reading Five Smooth Stones, a story of interracial marriage during the civil rights years. I recently found a copy of the book at a library book sale. I don't think I will ever read it again, but I remember that it was one of the first books I'd read where the characters became like a part of my family.

The Marshalls mentioned in the entry were our next door neighbors. Beth was a buxom woman who loved cats and visited our house almost daily. She'd come to the back door and shout, "Yoohoo!" Vern was seemed older than Beth. They had a son, Billy, who'd been born to Beth before she was married and was raised his first few years by her mother. He thought Beth was his sister, and it must have come as a shock to find out she was his mother when they finally told him the truth. He and my brother were good buddies. I had a small crush on Vern.

July 19, 1973 In which hate summer school

That last entry was stupid. I guess I just feel the need of a male companion. I refuse to be like Sally and go boy hunting all of the time.

I absolutely cannot hardly wait until summer school is over. I hate it.

Note:
I took American History in summer school that year. And driver's education. It was the summer of the Watergate hearings and my history teacher let us watch the hearings on TV most of the time. Drivers ed was another story. I took summer school with the idea that I might graduate early - my friend Cindy Jordan was taking summer school classes so she could graduate early. Her father was a teacher and they had plans for Cindy's senior year.

July 17, 1973 In which I listen to some voices in my head

"Ok Dona, stop it. You will get into trouble again. If that Mental Domination really does work, which I believe it does, you will have problems."

That was my conscious speaking. I know very well that I should listen and obey, but at times I stop listening to my moral voices. With Bob my moral voices were drowned out by the pleasure of not being "sweet sixteen" any longer. I still don't regret kissing him in the least. The only thing I regret is walking arm-in-arm everywhere.

My new problem is with a guy (younger of course) who has looked t me. He lives by me and has paid attention to me...

Note
I don't remember writing this and don't know who the new problem was.

July 14, 1973In which I admit Grandpa died

Why don't I just come out and say Grandpa's dead? Wouldn't it be easier than making a story? I leave too much feeling out of things when I write them down.

The pastor who buried Grandpa's body said exactly what I kept on telling myself. That what was lying in the coffin wasn't my grandpa. It was only an object that had housed his true self, his spirit.

Note

I believe the pastor's word was envelope. Which was a tie in to the fact that Grandpa Green worked for the US Postal Service.

July 12, 1973 In which I write cryptically about my grandfather

I just went on a "shopping spree". For me anyway. I bought some shampoo, stationery, ponytail holders, a pen, some hairspray for mother, and last but not least a new journal. I am not finished with the old one - but I had an urge. Actually I cannot find the other one and I am too lazy to look for it.

I don't want this to sound dramatic or anything gushy like that - but it isn't something I can just flatly say. So, I will put it in a story, sort of:

When I was very young he was present. A tall, now shadowy presence in the back of my mind. I don't know when he became more clear. He lived at my Grandmother's house, it was his house too -- he was my Grandfather. He was quiet. The only thing I remember about him was when he took Coco, his dog away. I remember that my Aunt Ginny (the youngest daughter) had a different story about Coco's disappearance than Grandpa did. Oh well, that's past. One other time I remember him was at Christmas one year he played Santa Claus.

Later on he has become more clear. Like the year Ginny got married. Then the year Grandpa and Grandma moved, it seemed to me he blossomed into what I remember.

Note

I remember a lot more about my grandfather than I let on. I've written a lot about him in my other journal.

technorati tags: grandfather, death

Second Journal - 7/12/73 - 12/31/75

This Journal is a 4-in-one lime-green notebook.

It cost 98 cents.

The Notebook has a space for a Name: Dona Leigh¹ Patrick and a subject Begun - July 12, 1973 // Ended - December 31, 1975.

On the first divider I wrote:

July 12, 1973 - Dec 31, 1973

Love

Hate

Fear

People

Life

Death

School

1 My middle name is spelled "Lee", but I went through a period where I wanted a more interesting spelling.

It is possible I've already written some of this earlier; I sort of remember typing it.

June 18, 1973Letter to Grandparents

Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

Hi there, Please excuse my "beautiful" writing paper, (and ink) but it is all I have with me at the moment. You'll never guess where I am writing this at --- In the apple tree in my back yard. I find this the most beautiful place in Elgin practically. Mother and Kevin are in the yard but don't know I'm up here. Just a few seconds ago a pair of birds (they sort of looked like pigeons) landed below me and sat and talked for a while. I probably should be down, helping them pull weeds -- but it is so comfortable up here. The wind just blew and rocked the branch, causing it to sway and move. The only thing not good about me being up here is the branch my behind is on. I know that when I get up I will have a sore gluteus maximus. I had better climb down now, my bed is still unmade and I have washing and ironing to tend to before I leave for Driver's Ed. (I drive for the first time today -- the last time I was to drive it was called off).

June 19, 1973
7:10 pm

Hi,

Back again more than twenty-four hours later. I just finished reading my American History. School is ok -- only the fact that it is summertime daunts it. (Is daunt a word?)

You wouldn't believe all of the things that reminds me of Chetek. I walk along the street and hear a sound or smell a scent that I maybe heard or smelled in Chetek and all of a sudden I am in higher spirits.

I have another love now -- England. I have some sort of Englandmania. I live England, dream England and read England. Right now it's a toss-up whether, when I get older, I find a rich Chetek guy or a rich English guy to marry.

Actually at the moment I must settle with poor painters (painters who used to be paperboys).

This was supposed to be an encouraging letter, and all I write about is me.

Well, some more about me!

My driving yesterday was rotten. When I get nervous I laugh. Yesterday I was very nervous and boy did I giggle. My instructor had me stop the car and he scolded me for not taking driving seriously. Then I pulled around and ended up on someone's lawn. I tell you it was rotten. Then, last night, daddy took me out (with the whole family of course) and I nearly turned the car over. I think driving is for the birds!!!!!!!!!!..........

Hi again,

This is a few hours later. Mom and Dad are at Ginny and Jack's fixing the refrigerator. Kevin is outside catching fireflies. I learned how to change a flat tire today in Driver's Ed.

Note:

The fact that I still have this letter means my grandparents never got it. I vaguely remember writing it, especially the part asking my grandparents to forgive the paper and ink. I once read a letter my mom wrote to my cousin while he served in Viet Nam. She apologized for using notebook paper so I suppose I thought that was an appropriate way to begin a letter.

After my grandfather died and my grandmother moved to Elgin, I visited the Chetek house a couple of times. On one visit I found a letter I had written to my grandparents in a book belonging to my grandfather. He had corrected all of my spelling and grammar mistakes with a red pen. That gave me a really odd feeling. Kind of angry, but it also made me smile.

Date unknown, Spring 1973In which I agonize. A lot.

Maybe if I write about it I can understand my true feelings. This will probably sound dumb in future years but it is important to me now. I am now sitting in the most comfortable place I know of. My tree. My little "bedroom" in my apple tree. Up here I see signs of my childhood. carved on a limb - standing for vampires. D & J (Dona & Jeff).

Anyway, today I looked through an old yearbook in Ceurlean (last year's). One from Kimball. I saw pictures of Gary and Robin told me that he had won the Golden Hammer award. Good for him. He is not what I am troubled about. My upset still lies at Kimball, but is our paperboy. At least for today. He may not even be today's. He is quitting the paper route and I am sad. Yes- admit it Dona, you like him. You know you do. I want to like him as a friend -- but something in me wants to KISS him. I cannot figure it out. He isn't very cute - he has got a baby-face. But he is so friendly. And he has such a grand smile. Why? Why can't I realize that he isn't just smiling at me. He smiles at everyone because he is friendly - a very friendly person.

Today will be the last time he delivers a paper to my house maybe. Oh - why do I do this to myself? I am just an idiot I suppose.

I cannot talk to my mother about it because she will say too many things I don't agree with. I don't dare to tell Cindy -- she would seem bored anyway.

Now I will go and make a fool of myself on the porch or something. What a fool I am. And then there are times when I pretend. I have a pretend conversation with him. Am I mad? Probably.

Now I am down from the tree. I have just picked a rose and brough down Romeo and Juliet. I don't even care if he comes by. I don't love him. I love life, grass, flowers, books, birds, sky sunshine that warms me. I am not in love and never have been not ev----------------------------------------------------------------------------

He just came by. My heart is pounding. In my stomach?

"Hey. Wanna see my big dog?"
"You have a dog?"
"Yeah, a poodle"
"Is he big?"
"No, he's a toy"
etc....

No more pretending! I can do it alone. Although he doesn't say the things he would in my dreams, it was fine. Fine? I have already said that I am not in love. And I'm not. I just need to prove to myself I can talk to the opposite sex without fumbling.

Now to work on Jeff again -- although I can talk to him pretty well.

I had better go help mother fix dinner.

---

Now I don't know my feelings. Bob delivered our paper today -- for the last time. I went to the door to get the paper and he turned around and asked me if I wanted to see his "big dog". didn't realize what he meant so he said that he would bring it down later. I said ok and he left. My heart was pounding and I ran upstairs and decided I had to go to the bathroom and ran back downstairs. I kept on assuring myself that I didn't really like him, That he is only a friend. But I couldn't stop my heart from pounding. I rushed around the house like a madwoman. I probably am mad.

Well, mom dad and Kevin got home. My stomach was still jumping. Well anyway he came with his dog -- Coco - and asked me to his house to see his other dog. We walked there and I went in and saw their kittens and dog. On the way there, I told him I was a soph. He seemed turned off. Good. He didn't even walk me home. It has helped me to write about it, really.

Why do I make such a big think out of something small? My dear mother just "defamilized" me. Yester was big, wow. I woke up late, and a while later we left for the store (Jewel-Osco). But before we went there I drove! Daddy took the care into the country and let me take over. It was really fun. Later when we got home I worked on my English final. Then at 3:00 we went to another store (Sears) and I got a racket. We got home after a while and after supper Daddy watned to fix the dishwasher so Mother, Kevin, Franz and I took a walk around the block. When we got to the corner, kitty-corner from Bob's house he came over.

No more to write about. He does like me. I wasn't making a big thing out of nothing ---------- it's something. What to do???

---

Time to write more this being written two weeks from the first entry - Bob has asked me to go steady. About a week ago (more really) and I turned him down. I have emotions too strong to keep inside. He is so immature - he can't even read. If only he would let me help him with his reading problem maybe, maybe what? He doesn't even remember my name -- he calls me Diane?. I wish I could know what to do. I haven't seen him to talk to since Wednesday -- this is Saturday.

---

Some more clear thinking needed. I am back in the tree, trying to sort out my feelings. Shall I go back to the beginning? No, I have been over that too much already. No, I don't love Bob. I did love Gary, or loved love in his case -- but I only mildly like Bob. I think that he likes me a bit more than mildly.

---

Note:

I may have already written some of the above in the journal, there are some pages that fell out and it all seems familiar. Some non-Bob points - notice what I call my parents in most of these entries. I call my father "Daddy" and my mother "mother". This was a rough time for my mother and me. We butted heads a lot. Whereas my father was not around so much, therefore he and I had a smoother relationship. The Franz that is mentioned in the post is our toy dachhound. Which is also why Bob referred to his dog as big, I think.

It amuses me to read this post. I love the part where I had pretend conversations with Bob, then had a real one that was very stupid. Then I analyze the conversation and remark that Bob doesn't say the things he did in my dreams.

July 31, 1973In which I finish this journal

This will be the last entry in this part of my Journal. A while ago I bought a new one. To wind things up:

1. Grandpa died on July 9, 1973 - I write that with my hand but my brain contradicts it. Maybe I cannot accept death.


2. Bob is still talking to me - but I have decided that he was more of an embarrassing element. I don't miss or want him anymore


3. Greg remains a mystery

Goodbye.

Note:

There is one blank page left in this journal. In later journals I tried to end them on December 31 and in the moments before midnight would fill the last page with as many memories of the year as I could. I would write them in bold, bright markers. Then I would usually be sad.

This is the end of my yellow journal. The next few entries are from a notebook that must have been lying around and used when the yellow one was not available.

July 6, 1973In which I see Greg

Oh boy Dona, you blew it -- simply blew it!!! What happened was: I had just walked in the back door after falling off a ladder and injuring my shin. I was in the process of making an ice pack and applying it to my wounds when I saw a movement out the front door. There, standing on the porch was a male person less than twenty and more than fifteen.

I limped to the door and asked, "Yes?" The male person said, "Dona?" I said "Yes". And then I knew it -- it was Greg. My kindergarten sweetheart. "Do you know who I am?" he asked. Although I did I didn't want him to know that I knew. I acted sort of puzzled and then said, "Oh, I know -- Greg." He confirmed it and introduced me to his friend with a broken leg.

We talked for a while about the past. He saw my '75 necklace and has probably figured out what happened.

Anyway -- I am so terrible -- I didn't even invite them in!!! The house was clean for once. I swear I have never been more embarrassed in my entire life! And was he good looking!!!!!!!

Worse things have happened though. I couldn't bring myself to write about it earlier -- but Grandpa had a heart attack. Mother rushed up there. I have been keeping house all week long. I haven't seen Bob at all since Saturday morning -- I think I miss him -- or at least a male companion.

I can't get over how cute Greg is. I was a mess - God, how embarrassing!

I would never tell anyone but I almost think that if Grandpa dies he would be a lot better off than he is now. Not that I want him to -- it would be a terrible blow on Grandma -- but he has gone through so much pain.

Note:

Greg P. was in my kindergarten class. I suppose we were friends when I was 5, but then the family moved away. It turned out that he was related in some way to the neighbors for whom I babysat (Chad's father was his uncle or cousin or something). Greg had misbehaved or something at school where he went and his parents sent him to live with his grandmother who lived around the corner. He always seemed older than his years. He had a car and he smoked and drank coffee. He drove me to school my entire junior year of school and each morning we stopped at McDonalds for coffee and hot chocolate. He always paid for my hot chocolate - not that I ever tried to. I wanted to date him, and I think that people thought we were dating, but he was out of my league.

He left the next year. The last I heard of him was that for some reason a poster of him was made and it was at a flea market or something. It had lipstick marks all over the face because girls would kiss it, he was that cute.

I wrote the story of my Grandfather Green in another blog, so I won't repeat it here.

June 30, 1973In which I break up

It's all over. Last night I asked Mother if I could go to the show with Bob today. She didn't give me an answer except reasons why I shouldn't like him. I agreed but how could I tell her that although he was outwardly immature he had taught me something -- how to kiss. Yes in that area he was far above me.

I made up my mind last night that I would tell him the complete story of why I encouraged our relationship so far -- but fortunately he didn't ask me why. I said that I we shouldn't see each other any longer. That hurt me -- he just said, "Okay -- you can keep the pillow." I told him that I would be afraid to look at it -- so he should take it back. It was sort of easy. But I cried -- for the first time about him alone.

Note:

The pillow was a yellow smiley face pillow he probably won at a carnival or something.

This whole "relationship" took place in the month of June. Not very long at all, but it felt like a long time back then, I suppose.

June 29, 1973In which Bob and I babysit

I didn't read Bob the letter. I would have -- but he was so different -- we played cards. We baby-sat at Chad's -- Chad's mother said Bob could come in. He held my hand and kissed it. He kept on trying to put his arm around me but I moved away every time. Then he walked me home and we kissed.

Note:

I remember babysitting sitting next to Bob at Chad's house, which was two houses away from mine. I babysat for Chad and his brother a lot. Their father was in a C & W band. He had another son who was named after himself. He also named his youngest after himself. So there were these half brothers with the same name.

After Bob and I broke up Chad once yelled out the door, "Ha ha Bob, Dona doesn't like you anymore." The fact that Chad looked like the little boy in The Shining is important to get the picture here.

I don't know what letter I speak of in the first sentence.

There was more to this post but I am uncomfortable adding it to this blog.

June 28, 1975In which I want to learn more

Well, here I go -- spilling out my problems. I don't like Bob. I don't even like to be with him that much. Why do I continue to see him? Easy - he is a boy, a boy has sex drives. I am a girl who feels the need of a boy with sex drives. I have already said that I am not turned on from his kisses -- but when he has his arm around me and rubs my shoulder or arm, I get goose bumps and wish he would always continue. He asked me to the show Saturday night. I bet we wouldn't watch it, see -- he wants to teach me how to French Kiss. Since I know that, do I decide not to go? No, I Miss Goody-Goody wants to French Kiss with him -- or any other guy for that matter, I'm no better than a whore.

Mom and Dad saw us with our arms around each other. They were upset -- I would have fought with them -- but stopped in time.

What should I do? Should I go Saturday and get some experience then tell Bob that I can't see him on the basis we've been seeing each other for three weeks, or tell him tonight? I suppose the longer I wait, the harder it will be for him -- if he likes me for me, not just for a girl.

On my side, the whole relationship is one of sex. Isn't it funny how sex can rule one's life?

Note:

This entry is almost too embarrassing to post, but what the heck. It is funny and sad. I was, at 17, using someone to get what I wanted and then going to dump him after I got it. Isn't that what men do? How funny I called it sex -- as if it was.

June 26, 1973In which I am almost kissed...but wait....

I was going to write last night -- but I had to study for my American history test. Problems? Yes, I have worries. Can anyone believe it? I was practically kissed last night. I was sure I was going to be - but I chickened out at the last minute. We held hands and walked for a while closer. He told me that I should decide what I wanted, whether or not we should keep seeing each other depends on if I kiss him. What should I do? I asked Kevin (he is the best brother in the world) what to do. He was very understanding but of course he didn't know what I should do. He suggested that kissing, like everything else, was hard the first time probably. What would I do without him?

Bob is very understanding too. He was quite gentle last night and I'm sure he would never force me into doing anything I didn't want to do.

I think I have made up my mind.

What I'm going to do is....

Note:

I must have been taking summer school (lots of people did, to get credits out of the way and to have a chance to graduate early) to have an American history test on June 26^th.

I am quite shocked I asked my brother for advice. Understand that Kevin is nearly 7 years younger than I am. So here was a nearly 17 year old asking a 10 year old about kissing. What's wrong with that picture?

The last phrase in that entry is referring to Larry Woiwode's first novel. His younger sister was the student teacher in my 6th grade class and she invited him to come and tell us about being an author. I have yet to read anything by him, but I have several of his novels.

Same day, noon.

I'm eating lunch now. I just had a thought. Maybe I have imagined Bob. I have not seen him yet today. Of course that is stupid. He is real. I do want to kiss him. He was so intelligent sounding last night. There was once or twice when I felt near to him -- but mostly I felt self-conscious. When he was about to kiss me - or trying to make me want to kiss him, he did something with his shoulder. I had my hand in front of my face but if he had continued sitting there I would have taken my hand down. Instead, he put his arm around me.

Bob just called. He asked me if I had decided, or thought about what he told me to think about. I said I had, but didn't know. Can I help if if I am afraid of my emotions? I am afraid that if I kiss him I will want to go farther -- or something. Oh, help me someone.

Note:

I really don't remember this indecision, but I suspect I was lying to myself about the reason. I think I was just shy and it was easier saying no than saying yes. Had Bob been more aggressive I would have been kissed much sooner -- not that I am advocating that.

Same day - 9:55

I Dona Leigh Patrick have just been KISSED! It was different than I had expected -- sort of squishy. Anyway -- I don't know how to really do it -- But think of it -- Not "Sweet 16 and never been kissed" any longer.

It's all a dream. One thing though -- it didn't excite me half as much as when he rubbed my shoulder yesterday. I wonder why. Oh well, I've been kissed and that's all that matters, isn't it?

(I seem to be getting these symptoms of mono all of a sudden!????!)

Note:

Well finally. I really don't remember the actual kiss. Just that it happened and thinking that it was squishy.

Funny that I spelled my middle name "Leigh" when it is really spelled "Lee". I guess I wanted to be different.

June 22, 1973In which I agonize some more

"Sweet sixteen and never been kissed". Isn't that what I said? Didn't I make a vow to myself to be kissed before I turned seventeen? And didn't I pledge that I would kiss Bob? His mouth was just right, I could imagine his face getting closer, closer...

But -- I do not realize that another life is involved, a person who can get hurt. My emotions after I met Bob are in the way too. I am not mentally attracted to him much at all -- only physically. The fact that he is a male and I a female set off a certain feeling. That he is attracted to me (I know not how) is even more -- well, I guess the word is - excites me.

It is hard to wrote about. I do not understand my feelings. I have tried to tell Bob how I feel -- he has asked me to go steady twice. And I am upset every time I try to explain my feelings.

Note:

It looks as if I had a one track mind back then - I just wanted to be kissed before my 17^th birthday which was only two months away. Again I really don't remember all this agonizing.

Oh, interesting to note the date here - I was married exactly 12 years later.

June 5, 1973In which I have a dilemma

Tuesday

Now I know. He does like me -- a lot. He was already talking about "going together". We walked to the creek last night. So many thoughts wen through my mind -- about being older than him mostly. I am no longer afraid of being hurt. I think it will be him. He is a very nice person and I don't want to hurt him -- but we have nothing in common. Except nature. I think he likes nature -- but it seems to be different than when I read about it in books. All I know is that I am definitely not in love with him -- only happy because someone has finally noticed me. I wish I could cry because it would wash out my mind and help me think clearer.

My pretend romances seemed to go much more smoothly. But of course then HE would be older than me and more intelligent than myself.

All I have to do is say the word and I can have a boyfriend. But do I want to have all of that at my call? It is a great responsibility (to me) and so much seems at stake.

Mother and Father are trying to tell me what to do. When I got home last night they were telling me what was wrong with him. They deflated me and I even cut him down. What should I do? I am not asking anyone but myself. Life can be hard. Oh, if only I could cry, I have a feeling in my stomach, a knot, that won't go away.

Note:

I don't remember agonizing about this so much. I thought we just hung out and kissed a few times and then I told him I didn't want to "go" with him anymore. I do remember feeling embarrassed walking with him and tried to hide my face with my long hair when we were together. And it was because he could not read.

June 4, 1973In which I write about the weekend

Monday

What a wonderful weekend! It may be nothing really -- but it certainly seems like what I think it is.

I met a cockapoo named Old Style and a poodle named Creme de Cocoa, a cat named puddin' (called stubbies because it is missing its tail), a kitten named Tommy (I think) and a raccoon named Sniffles. Bob showed them to me. Bob, Bob, Bob. Maybe I am fooling myself, I probably am -- but I will continue...

I met him a long time ago. Last year, maybe it wasn't so long ago. Anyway the first time I talked to him he wanted me to buy three half dollars. I didn't and didn't talk to him again until this year.

He was teasing me about Franz (our Doxey) and saying, "What a big dog." The other day he asked me I wanted to see his dog. He brought it over and I walked back to his house to see his cats and other dog. yesterday I met him again and he showed me his racoon. It was cute and when he was holding it I looked up at hem and he looked down at me and our eyes met and held for a few seconds.

He walked me home then.

Maybe I am making too much out of it, but I have a feeling for him. He is not very bright but he is so friendly. I feel differently towards him than I felt about Gary. I don't know...

Note:

I vividly remember lots of this. I had forgotten about the racoon, but remember the dogs. I also remember Bob coming by a year earlier wanting to sell me three half dollars.

Bob lived two blocks away. His mother delivered our mail. He had twin sisters and another sister who was blind.

.

May June 1, 1973In which I feel better

Friday

Well, swimming lessons are over and I passed!

I got rid of the feeling I had Wednesday by climbing my tree. I wrote a lot about my feelings in a notebook. I saw the guy I like and decided I don't like him really. He is just a very friendly person and that is it!

I have a busy weekend ahead of me -- at the library!!!

Note:

I may have made note of this before, but it is worth mentioning again. I took swimming lessons every summer for years at a local outdoor pool and never passed beginners. Of course I never actually got my face wet, so it is understandable the teachers would not pass me. Finally I decided to learn to swim at the YWCA with a friend or two and was able to pass beginners by swimming on my back the length of the pool. The water was warmer and it was my idea, not my mom's.

Remember, I grew up in Northern Illinois, so the summer mornings were often quite cool. Going to the pool in low 60 degree weather was not unusual, especially since the lessons were held in the early mornings. I spent most lessons sitting on the side of the pool.

The weekend writing was in a different notebook which I recently found and will post after this or the next entry.

I suppose now the guy I "could not afford to like" was the paperboy. As I may have mentioned earlier, he was what my kids call "special ed". He could not read and went to a special school. Maybe that is why I "could not afford" to like him. It would make my social standing plummet. (my daughter says she is embarrassed for me because my first boyfriend was "special ed". Perhaps it was because he was a year younger than I.

May 30, 1973In which I am in another bad mood. How depressing.

Wednesday

Great! I am in a bad mood again. Why must I always get anrgy? The weather is rotten, the day is rotten, I am not in a writing mood.

I like someone I cannot afford to like. I don't want to talk to anyone about it but I have to get rid of this feeling. I may go insane. How depressing!

Note:

This one nearly cracked me up. First of all, now I understand my daughter's moods. I guess we all go through this stage. I don't know who the person was who I felt as if I could not afford to like. I suspect it was someone popular and I was probably thinking in terms of wasting my energy or something.

I love the "I may go insane" followed by "how depressing". Again, typical of teenage.

May 29, 1973In which I feel like the center of the universe

Tuesday

Wow! I think our discussion today in English was directed at me! I feel like I should go inside myself - I feel that I have been hurt by people. I am almost afraid to like a boy again because of last year.

Note:

Typical of teenagers, I felt like I was the center of everything - conversations and the universe. This works two ways. Either you feel good about it or you feel very self-conscious.

May 24, 1973 In which I first mention Bob the paperboy.

Thursday

The music is bugging me! Last night I waited for the paper boy to come but I decided that I had better go in or he would suspect something.

I began a letter to Pam. Finally -- after a couple of months.

Homework over Memorial Day Weekend! Good thing I am not going to Chetek. Oh well, I probably will be bored anyway.

---

Note:

The paperboy is going to play a rather large role in the next few months and will leave a lasting impact on me to this day. He gave me my first kiss as well as inspired my first vocation.

May 18, 1973 In which I dream of death

Friday

I had the most horrifying dream last night. I hope it wasn't a premonition -- I pray it wasn't. In my dream my cousin, Cindy C. was killed in an auto crash. My family was all upset. Then - later my friend's mother - Cindy J's mother - called and told me she had some bad news -- Cindy had died.. I was more upset then, and cried and cried. Then -- something happened where I found out that another cousin had died long ago and I never found out.

Note:

This dream was not prophetic. Both Cindy's are alive and well.

May 17, 1973 In which I come to my senses and dream about a "superjock" DJ

Thursday

It just dawned on me - I am a member of Larkin High School. Since I was six years old I have waited to be devoured by this monster. Well, finally I have been - and it isn't all so great as I thought it would be. I mean -- if it took me almost the entire school year to fully realize that I was here.

Last night I had a dream about Larry Lujack. He was in Elgin and asked me the directions to somewhere. I didn't jump up and down and scream so he asked me why. I told him that I thought he was conceited and stuck up. DUMB!!! {what a funny dream}

Note:

Larry Lujack was a disk-jockey at a pop radio station in Chicago in the 1970's.

May 16, 1973 In which I write a story I like

Wednesday

I finally was inspired! I wrote a story up to my standards. Of course it still didn't compare to the first one I wrote - but that was from a wide range of topics.

Ellen R. graded it. There I can agree with her -- most of the time when someone graded my paper I didn't agree with how they did it -- they usually gave me higher than I felt I deserved. {I'm glad you're satisfied.}

I have been having a dream about a certain boy. I have never seen him before, but I think I am in love with him. Wouldn't that be odd if I saw him someday? Wow! {Yes, it would! But it may happen!!!}

Note:

I don't remember anything about the story or boy in my dream with whom I was in love.