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Memory Lane

December 4, 2003

Diane’s mention of her paper journals a few weeks ago reminded me that I have boxes of my own in the basement. They go back to the early 1970’s (Mrs. White told me to put that apostrophe there, and I’m going to. Or did she tell me not to?) I figure there’s no better time to pull them out and mine them for source material than this month o’ much writing. Therefore, here are my reflections on several mid-70’s December 4ths.

December 4, 1975

Dear Diary,

I am staying home from school today. I decided I needed a little time to get my head on straight. Maybe if I put some things down here it will help.

I seem to float a lot lately.

I go from liking Bruce to hating him to not caring at all.

Last night I watched “Rudolph, the red nosed reindeer”.

I think a lot about death & killing. Also sickness.

I do not explain anywhere in this volume why I addressed the first entry to my gerbils, Cooky Allen II and Geneva Mae, and then switch to the more conventional “Dear Diary”. I do not remember thinking a lot about death or killing or sickness, nor do I know what I meant by floating. My 13 year old self is a mystery to me. I do remember who Bruce was though; a girl doesn’t forget her first junior high crush.

December 4, 1976

I seem to be suffering from a bad case of Dan Lastname-itis this weekend. It’s only Saturday + already I miss him. For the past week I’ve been taking hot lunch so I can talk to him in the line. He’s really nice. The only thing I don’t like about him is that he’s with Mike Hislastname all the time. I wish it would hurry up and be Monday!!

I finished my first complete reed on Wednesday. It actually plays 1/2-way decent. I was (am) surprised.

Coincidently, this is the first entry in this volume (still the same book as 1976– I hadn’t done The Artist’s Way yet and so didn’t write nearly every day) which doesn’t begin “Dear Diary”. The reed was for the oboe I played in band. I chose it because it was unusual. I think I still have the instrument, though it hasn’t been out of its case in years.

December 4, 1977 no entry

December 5, 1978 (there was an entry for the 4th, but this one is better because it displays how little I knew about the world at that age)

What are my priorities? People tell me I must rearrange them, but how can I rearrange what I never arranged to begin with?

Is America so divided because of its diversity? (Is the educational system too academic?) Maybe the melting pot doesn’t work anymore. Americans are not living up to e plurbis unum” — out of many, one– the way they did in WWII. What about Orientals — all Japanese are alike, all united. Like Will said when he came from Germany, “The reason there’s no strife is because the German people are one.” Americans aren’t– out of many, many.

News influences popular jokes: “Why did Idi Amin kill 900 of his subjects?” “To keep up with the Joneses.”

I don’t like school anymore. I liked it last year, but this year I’m bored. I make vacations for myself just so I don’t have to go. I don’t do my homework. I’m tired of the whole thing. My days seem endless.

Everyone in California must be crazy. ABC just did a special on the supernatural, and 3/4 of it was in California. A man on the show said California has gotten the reputation as “home of the kook”. I believe it.

December 4, 1979

Mr. Karen won’t be at the game tonight. I was disappointed when he told me, but I knew it wasn’t right to make a scene. He has to do his college applications. He’s busy this month.


Mr. Karen came for half the game after all. I guess the policy is go with him until we meet an overcomeable obstacle. I’m so tentative, though. I’d like to be able to just take his hand in the hall as we walk to class, but I don’t know how he’ll react.

All of my applications are done except MIT. I also have FAF’s and the like to do, but the worst is done.

I find it hilarious that I thought even an overcomeable obstacle would break us up. Guess we haven’t encountered it yet, since here we are twenty-four years later, still going together.


A year ago, I revealed the truth about my neat desk.

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