Thursday, November 26, 2015

Journal 1980

Can you relate to this, Everett?
"It may be silly but sometimes the future looks so bleak when you have no money and no goal-oriented dreams, and everyone's asking you "What are you going to do next?"

In 1980 I was 21.
This must've been an argument with Dad:
"It's not that the situation is bad; we had a good scream tonight; I did anyway, yelling and crying and stomping my feet. Don't think we got anywhere but got some hostile feelings out into the open; should've tromped more on them than each other. I think tonight was the first time I did more yelling than he did."

I set up a tent at the campgrounds:
"Sitting with legs stretched out to the fire, this book on the ground beside me; a frog hops onto the page and sits there a few moments, taking in the heat of the flames. Surprising. When a mouse darted out from behind the log on my other side I raised my voice and told it to get the hell away. It did."

One Friday:
"Looks like it'll be a good afternoon. Out on top of my picnic table, nude already in the sun. I intend to enjoy it thoroughly."
"Hmph. All my hopes for an afternoon of naked solitude — dashed. Strangers pulling up, Dad bringing my mail (big hug — how I needed that). Cameron rips in on his motorcycle as I'm taking off my T-shirt again — he backs up and drives off. Comes back and hollers from a distance "You decent?" before he'll come over.

Grandpa Johnson died on July 5, and in August I was living in Yorkton with a job helping Vietnamese refugees get settled.
"I hate being downtown, feeling so alone on the streets and feeling a plastic mask forming on my own face, and losing the battle to keep it off."

Oh my god. Things really do not change all that much:
Sept 1980
"Have to remind myself throughout the day to stay slow, take my time, there is no fire anywhere.
The golden rule: Do One Thing After The Other."


"Saturday morning; the phone rings - who's calling me on Saturday morning? It's Mom, just to talk - that feels good, there is love between us somewhere. I was surprised ... 'I guess she does like me!' "

Wed, Dec. 10:
"Got into M.S.'s car yesterday morning to go to Regina and soon found out that some kook has shot John Lennon ... Murdering a Beatle! What f'ing next?"


  1. I do love old journals. My daughter has a gorgeous mink that she bought at some flea market for $5. Insanity but a reuse. I don't sweat that stuff at all. My purse is years old and is from elephant hide, I was assured the elephant had died of natural causes but I do admit to thinking of her and her long life. And I love the quilt, is it finished?

    1. I took the quilt out of the basket and laid it over a chair to air out for a day or two ... then folded it up and laid it on TOP of the basket. Still haven't threaded a needle.

  2. I love all the detail you still have of your life. I remember 1980 but my only details have to do with a new baby, 2 teenagers and a job

  3. Love snippets of journals like that. Good idea for a post. I might ditto you on that one day. Somehow pulling a single sentence or paragraph out on it's own makes the words more powerful and draws my whole attention.

    1. I'll look forward to the day you do that, Annette.

  4. The journal entries are great reading. I had to go back a few times, not believing, you actually yelled at your dad? And got away with it. I avoided spankings for years by always doing what I was told to do, and I'm pretty sure that if I had talked back in my teens, I would have been slapped. Physically. None of that kind of thing was tolerated in our house; we just had to respect our parents, even when they were wrong.

    1. I was never spanked or hit after I turned 13, except once when at age 17 or so I told my mother to F.O. Then Dad lost it and slapped me. Otherwise I was fortunate not to be physically terrorized (!) by a grown man.

    2. I think we did our share (and more) of arguing. I may have been a little shit quite often.


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