Too close for comfort


Handwritten page of a diary dated November 9, 1960

… even though I can’t vote till I’m 21. But I think 20 is old enough to care about who wins, and I did not even sleep last night. They hadn’t called a winner yet by the time the TV stations went off the air. So I just took a pile of records downstairs to the hifi to try to distract myself. Unfortunately, my mom got out of bed and said why did I only like one kind of music, by which she means Sam Cook and Ray Charles and Fats Domino. I see where she’s going with this.

But I guess we might as well argue about music (she likes Connie Francis and Pat Boone) (squaresville) than what was REALLY on my mind, because I’m almost positive that she voted for NIXON and if he ever became president I would rather just beat feet all the way to Siberia.

In my poly sci class today, we finally found out Kennedy won. Whew! Then the professor started talking about how if we think this election was close, then how would we like to have been around in the 1800s, because Rutherford B. Hayes and Benjamin Harrison both won the electoral college but not the popular vote!!! I’m glad that will never happen again, because I would GO APE.


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Published in: on February 13, 2017 at 3:31 am  Leave a Comment  

Turn up the heat


Handwritten page of a diary dated December 18, 1968

… don’t know why we had to move to this godforsaken blizzarding state anyway when it was perfectly nice living in San Francisco. I was walking home from school today with my scarf covering my nose — UNTIL the scarf got wet from me breathing into it. Eeeew. I got home and told my mom to take back whatever stupid frilly dresses she bought me because all I want for Christmas is a space heater for my bedroom. Then she said the thermostat is set at 64 and that’s plenty warm for any human beings who are wearing a sweater. Then she pulls out a picture of her and her dippy friends posing in bathing suits out in the snow.

The only sweaters I have are some she picked out for me, which are all itchy, so I put on my bathrobe and listened to the Doors song called “Wintertime Love.” When Jim Morrison sings “Keeping you warm, your hands touching me”  I have a fantasy that my mom walks in my bedroom she goes ape because she sees that Jim Morrison and I are here under a blanket rubbing up against each other to keep warm. That would serve her right for bringing me up here to the arctic north.


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Published in: on July 18, 2016 at 3:36 am  Leave a Comment  

Bebop is the MOST

dance class 1949

Handwritten page of a diary dated November 6, 1949

got stuck in the back row again … and not even on one of the ends. I’m going to all this work learning the stupid tap dance, only to be lucky if anyone notices me at all.

First there was the big scuffle we had about the music. Our new teacher, Evelyn, wanted us to use “I’m looking over a four leaf clover that I overlooked before.” The one from last year by Art Mooney!!!!!!!  We almost flipped our wigs. I played this record, the only killer diller song I could think of — “Bebop Spoken Here” by Frankie Laine. She finally agreed, but she said it was only because it has a really good tempo for the dance she had in mind.

Then she was all excited because Betty’s uncle volunteered to come and photograph us rehearsing. She wanted to send a picture to the newspaper and maybe get more people to come to our recital. It’s a good thing she didn’t see the one picture he took — a closeup of her … well let’s just say he seemed to really enjoy her white shorts and the legs that were coming out of them. Ha ha, what if that picture got in the paper by accident?


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Buddy Rich vs. Keith Moon


Handwritten page of a diary dated January 8, 1972

…  asked for drum lessons, yes. But what I didn’t tell him is that I want to learn drums so I can be like Keith Moon. When I was a kid — must have been 6 or 7 years ago at least — I saw the Who play a couple of songs on the Smothers Brothers TV show, and Keith Moon changed my life. His arms moved so fast they were like a blur. I wanna do that.

But my dad wants me to be like Buddy Rich. He says, “Kid, if you get this going and have the career Buddy Rich had, we’re gonna be in Fat City I tell ya — livin’ on Easy Street.” Then I think he’s gonna shut up but he says when he was in high school he saw a picture in a magazine of Buddy Rich “wearing some kind of a rich guy robe and sittin’ there like he didn’t have a care in the world.” Then — right in front of my mom — he says “I wouldn’t have a care in the world if I coulda dated Lana Turner like he did.”

Well, I hate to tell him, but I saw Lana Turner in a movie once and she was ok, but I bet Keith Moon has much better looking groupies than old Lana.


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Wallis Simpson was here


Handwritten page of a diary dated July 5, 1940

… wanted to stay in town to see the fireworks, so we didn’t get to leave for the shore until today. FINALLY I’m here where I belong. I think it’s unfair that some people get to live in towns by the ocean and they could walk here any time they wanted. If they were a senior like I am and can leave school during lunch hour they could just walk over here and eat their sandwich while watching the waves.

But here’s the swellest thing that happened — we didn’t go to Hampton Beach like we usually do. We came to a beach I’ve never been too and one of its names is WALLIS SANDS. Yes Wallis as in the scandalous Duchess of Windsor. I thought she grew up in Pennsylvania or Maryland or somewhere, but maybe she came to this very beach and she was so captivating that the locals named it after her. Maybe she touched one of the very same grains of sand that I’ve touched today!


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When Johnny comes marching home

Johnny comes marching home

Handwritten page of a diary dated October 3, 1945

…  offered to go to the train station with me. Johnny said later he was hoping I’d be there alone to meet him, but I was terribly nervous. I only knew him for a month before we got married and then he was off to fight the Germans. After about a year went by, I started wondering if I knew him well enough to be married at all.

Betty and June said they’d go with me. June’s fiance Roy is kind of goofy, but he was nice enough to drive us into downtown Chicago and sit with us while we waited. Betty chose our seats, and of course I noticed she sat herself down right next to a handsome man wearing an expensive suit. Darned if she didn’t start up a conversation with him and get asked out on a date before we left.

Well. I shouldn’t have worried about Johnny at all. He’s been home for three days and things are mostly swell. He does snore, and I mean a kind of snoring that could wake up Franklin Roosevelt from his coffin in Hyde Park. But all the reasons I married him are slowly coming back to me.


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Published in: on December 21, 2012 at 5:58 pm  Comments (1)  

1941 PT Cruiser

Handwritten page of a diary dated July 27, 2002

get dragged to my grandfather’s birthday party at the big creepy house of my Aunt Phyllis. I was told there might be some good food there, but all I saw was a bunch of stuff like deviled eggs. In fact I don’t think there was any food in there that wouldn’t fit on top of my new ipod. That’s how small it was. Including the cake which wasn’t a cake, only those little tiny cakes that looks like it would be about the right size to put it on my tiny dining room table in the Sims if I could reach inside my computer screen.

There were all kinds of photos pasted on a poster board of Grandpa’s life, including the one I just had to comment about it and now I’m the laughing stock of the world. I said ‘Grandpa’s family had a 1941 PT Cruiser?” Great. Everyone had a fun time mocking me because I didn’t stop to think that they didn’t have PT Cruisers back in ancient times.


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Published in: on December 17, 2011 at 5:17 pm  Comments (2)