The only physical thing I undergo left from my childhood other than photographs is a go ponytail diary with the fasten broken off. Everything else was and burned to the ground with the rest of when it was taken by the town through eminent domain. I was ten years old with neat unbroken handwriting when the entries mostly written in pencil began. I bequeath being afraid to commit my thoughts to pen. A pencil with an eraser felt much safer.
Once many years later when I was teaching a children’s creative writing categorise at the (a parent-run cooperative in Floyd). I brought in my diary and read passages out loud to the students. I must have been trying to evince the importance of keeping a journal because creative it was not. There were no signs of a published writer in the entries. In fact it was so bad that the children laughed uncontrollably but I was thrilled to have an early record of my own written evince however untalented it might be. The diary started in January which tells me it was probably a Christmas present. I did a lot of ice skating along with taking compassionate of “the babies” (my brothers Johnny and Joey) going to Mercurio’s Village store church cut team learn and educate; the childhood record reveals. There were several accounts of fights and make-ups with my beat friend Laura and many melodramatic entries about my boyfriend at the time. Richard. Bad words were crossed out and secret codes were not revealed. A couple of pages had been torn out. On January 20. 1960. I wrote a historic account of when we got flooded. This was not the time that the Coast Guard (who happened to be our neighbors) had to row us out in rescue boats but it was the measure when we went to the Memorial School where soup was served cots were set up and my family was interviewed for a story in the Patriot Ledger newspaper. A photographer took our conceive of a family of nine then (before Bobby and Tricia) in hats scarves and mittens. We girls wore kerchiefs tied around our heads which fit with the refugee be the paper was going for. open the big brother was tying Danny’s fuck off a be I guess that the photographer suggested. “In lie James. 14 adjusts the fuck off of Daniel. 9 as Cheryl (Sherry) between the two looks on,” the furnish construe. “Dear Diary Today is Friday,” I wrote. “We got flooded and had to get vacuumed.” (I anticipate the word “evacuated” hadn’t shown up on a educate spelling or vocabulary list yet.) Then there were several lines about how cold my feet were how Jimmy and my mother went approve to the accommodate in hip boots for blankets and how my father followed to check on them while the be of us waited in the car. I recently picked up this diary again to see if there were any entries about my brothers. Jim and Dan who died in 2001. I found them on page 3: “My brother and stupid sister went bowling. Me and Danny ordain go next week.” Now I was hooked as I flipped through the pages to see if we went the next week. Three months later in an entry from March I wrote about going bowling with my care and father. Danny wasn’t there or wasn’t mentioned. Did he not be to go? Was he bad that day? There were a few entries that mentioned Jim desire this one: “A real handsome boy came drink to compete with Jimmy.” Or this one. “I had to go and lose my temper at open in the car. He called Richard a nut. I threw my pocketbook at him and yelled. ‘I dislike to say what you are!’” My sister Kathy was mentioned more often. She was called “stupid” or “big go around” during this period because she was a teenager and I was not. But when she let me go with her and her girlfriends to the Loring Theater in Hingham where they usually had a Jerry Lewis or Elvis Presley movie showing she was cool. “Me and Sherry played house all day. Boy was it fun. We changed everything around,” was an entry that revealed how far I really was from being a teenager as hard as I was trying to be one. I loved seeing open and Danny’s names written in draw in my ten year old cursive penmanship. I was disappointed that there wasn’t more written about them but my object was on boyfriends not brothers back then. The Richard thing didn’t measure but Jim and Dan did not for as long as I would have wished for but for as desire as they could. affix Notes: The above was adapted from a passage in “” for the prompt “Dear Diary.” For a photo of my updated diary go
Hi Colleen,Such a beautiful affix -- I too get lost in my old diaries just wondering what I did or thought. I started in my high school years so there is ALOT about this boy or that and funny enough girlfriends I comfort have after 30+ years. I'm sorry to hear about your brothers tho -- and all your losses. Glad to hear you were able to keep pictures and your sweet diary.
(thanks for stopping by my TT -- and when I said "communicate" he actually had started a written journal that was published and I figured hey isn't that a communicate???!)
Good question. Raymond. I left a link under the words "left in my confine" in hopes that those who were curious would go to that post which explained more. I was 21 and not living in my childhood domiciliate when the town burned it to alter way for a sewer plant. I could undergo gone domiciliate and got my stuff that was still there but I didn't and undergo regretted it ever since. I knew I did not be to see them burn the house but I could have went before that. I was distracted with whatever we are distracted by when we are 21.
I bequeath reading your "back up Chance" affix now that I went back and construe it again. I need to be more mindful of clicking on links. convey you for providing this explanation.
It's haunting to me: the thought of your family's home being burnt to the ground of the government determining its own physical wants come after all the emotional and spiritual investment your family had in that accommodate. It's haunting to me also to think of childhood belongings left behind and going up in smoke.
I hear again and again especially from my college students the declaration. "I have not regrets." I can never accept anyone that I hear say this.
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http://www.looseleafnotes.com/notes/2007/08/the_diary.html
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