| still at home volume 3 part 1 - 1960 february-june | work & days: a lifetime journal project |
February 29 1960 On a day that really shouldn't be - something happened - Queer - almost booklike. Ellie was in a remote sort of mood - the kind you can't concentrate in - and was feeling insignificant and dull - lusterless .... So she got out a sheet of paper, and wrote down, in choppy sentences, her thoughts, and impressions. Gradually, after snipping, some of these thoughts evolved into a sort of abstract poem .... Only one sentence, with no rhyme scheme, and not much rhythm but still a sort of po'm. She was writing it, or rather had written it on a sheet of scrap paper, and was measuring out the feet and meter, - and had not taken any pains to hide it I think she sort of hoped that Mr Dyck would see it - from curiosity, and I think - because she wanted a bit of praise just so she could feel like a unique person, or at least a person. He saw it, and read it, looking over her shoulder, while her heart pounded She did not dare to look at his face, but sat, just looking down. "Where did you get this?" he asked. To be dramatic, I'd like to say she wispered her answer, but she didn't, tho' her voice was low, and choked when she said, "I wrote it." He looked over it for a long time, not saying anything, and read it again. Ellie just sat, still unable to hear much besides her heart's hollow bouncing, and the listening silence. She ventured a sudden glance at him, but didn't see anything. "It's pretty," he said. She couldn't think of anything to say. "Is it you?" he asked. "Usually" she said, then later thought that she should have said "sometimes." "It tells me a lot" he said, needlessly, really. The poem said quite a lot - but Ellie did know it. Did it say too much? He walked over to the back of the room, watching the actors memorizing their lines. His face was serious, but unreadable. I wish it would have left him wordless and with a whirling mind. I wish it was that good. Ellie looked out of the window, feeling inside, laughter and tears. But nothing came out. After a while, he came and stood behind her. "Do you very often write poetry?" he asked. "No." "You should." "I never have anything to write about ...." "You don't always feel like you do now, do you?" "No." "Well, how many days do you live? Write about that." Then he explained a little more ..... "Do you usually measure them out in feet?" "No, I was only seeing how it worked out, because it didn't sound right." "Don't ever do that ....." and he explained how it wasn't good, because then the poetry becomes steriotyped, and loses value. "Do you like to write about yourself?" he asked. "Yes," and inside, she thought Its what I know most and least about..... I just wonder, what he really thought about it - he said, "it's pretty," but it isn't really. Did he mean, "it's sticky"?, or did he mean, "it's real." [2012] I called it Monogram
March 4th A day, moderately nice, .....it had a breathless beginning - I went for the mail, which Mrs Blask placidly with her custumer grin on, handed me - an Eaton's parcel a letter from Kelvin Street, Winnipeg ..... and a birthday parcel ..... a little oblongish one - just the shape of a small book - the return adress said "R.Koblotski." I sort of thought he'd remember my birthday - because he's the type that just would - but ..... Well, I read Auntie's letter first ..... and it was unusually vivacious, and in a rollicing humor ..... Then I struggled with the red cord around R.K.'s package, and when the brown paper slipped off, there was a flower sprigged paper ..... I unwrapped it - feeling like Christmas morning - and Judy watched almost as eagerly ..... I saw the back of the book first, and turned it over tensely. Then - let go with a gasp of "how perfect!" It was "The Diary of Anne Frank" ..... and he couldn't have picked a better one ..... Oh its symbolic, and wonderful, and I almost love him for it. The card inside it was very sentimental - "With All My Love" and a colored butterfly on the front ..... Oh, the dear! Actually, he must have liked me an awful lot, and he's probably building me up in his mind now that I can't jolt him back to reality he is a perfect darling, and I may even fall in love with him - it would be an awful nice meeting if I ever got back to Edmonton ..... so why not? I just may ..... I went to the hospital [in Grande Prairie] to see about that job - the new hospital is loverly ..... and no kidding! I asked the man in the CNIB about where to go - he said the new hospital, so i went, and it wasn't bad at all ..... I asked a nurse, who asked the switchboard operator, who told me, the matron - who was out. Ill write I think ..... Oh, I hope I get a job! It bout be the utter most. Independence, money, a date maybe ..... if I met someone ..... Crossed fingers. March 5th - now, on my fourteenth year, but I'll be fifteen tomorrow half way to thirty! But if I live as much in the next fifteen years as I have in the last few, and learn as much I'll be wise as an owl, and have filled at least twenty - no, more, journals ..... I should write something, some stock taking - it was exactly a year ago that I sensed any boy's being attracted to me ..... that was in Clearbrooke - when I was first walked home, and when someone asked for my phone number ..... And since then - well, doing something I'd wanted to do for a long time, I've walked down a main street holding hands with a good looking guy and felt within me that I had the power to make a boy happy by merely letting him hold my hand, and that I could - actually, was able to make a boy fall in love with me - it's a new sensation ..... and this knowledge I hold in my heart, and I remember it when I feel particularly inferior, and shapeless, and without a personal force it helps so much ..... knowing that I can do it if I have a chance, knowing that a boy could like me enough to overlook things like my limp, my big back end, my nose ..... Knowing that knowing me could help someone, as knowing other people has helped me. I am still not through learning the power of a smile - the soft, warm, one that is mostly inside - the kind that makes a boy think of me as someone he'd like to kiss. That is the smile that makes a woman. The smile, for strangers, that makes friends anywhere ..... the teazing smile. Discovering that I could be a different person - a warm, feminine, creature, with a questioning, low-voiced personality, a certain dreaminess that R.K. found in me. So far I've only listed good - but - lots of things aren't so good. I found I wasn't as strong minded as I thought I was I give in to easily to a searching mouth - to anything romantic and dramatic. I am not adult enough about the small things that may be more important than the bigger issues I am mature, to a certain extent, in ..... I am vain ..... I do not have a forceful enough personality. I tend to feel the underdog except when accented by something, or someone. I am too easily influenced by everything I read, and everyone I meet. I am a jellyfish - I don't know what I am, and can't tell where to begin improving myself I am jealous about my precious personality - sometimes it's a mousey shade, but there is something there, and I wish I knew how to bring it out. Now I have reached the age of many questions about myself - small questions I can't answer, questions inside I can't ask - things I may find the answers to when I am fifteen, after tomorrow ..... I felt a little dismay at not being fourteen any more, but writing this has helped. Surely, after so much discovery, things will not, can not, stop just because of a birthday..... Another of my faults - I love adventures - but am reluctant about leaving anything I cherish, refusing stubbornly, childishly, to look ahead with a light in my eyes only look back with longing. Maybe this next year will be a year in which I become a person, a someone, instead of the "shapeless shadow in a lighted room" that I am now - maybe someone sure of her high ideals, and of her being a person like no one else is, anywhere ..... Of being the unique, special person I long to be ..... Someone who is not anyone, but a real someone, who stands out of a crowd It is a perfectly normal wish, and that is what frustrates me, because I do not want to be normal! March 16 This morning, the sermon was the first thing I really noticed, the first outstandence, I mean. It was on consecration - A sermon about giving up everything, and becoming something that is only a shell - in a way, it seems farfetched to be even considered, but - Mr Whilms says to. He looked at me when he asked them - the young people - to consecrate their lives, and he was asking me ..... My mind weighed things - I decided - altho' "decided" was not the word at all - that I could not give up my inner life, the drama of young feelings, and questionings, and being a person - how can anyone stop being a person, and become a shell for anything, even something as big as God. My rebelliousness - And I can not consecrate myself, because it could not be everything, and not honest. I do have some basic despising for dishonesty - I do not want to show any emotions, or act anything I do not feel So - I have to be honest, and there is really no question ..... Another question in my mind - is it right to lose yourself in only religion, and lose sight of everything else? Doesn't it depend on the person? I am not a deeply devout person, and should I take up something that isn't me? Again a matter of being true to myself ..... Mr Whilms said something about finding happiness in giving ourselves entirely - but if that is true, how? Already I am so happy I am afraid, sometimes ..... Afraid that God will send a lot of terrible things to break me up, make me crawl, yearn for death, and want to lose everything that is me ..... Is he really that sort of God? Another thing I may learn someday ..... Doesn't everything always come out? And isn't there in everything unpleasant, always the certain amount of drama that makes up for doubts and my small despairs? And if Anne Frank could always find the world a happy place, isn't it? Its where I belong ..... Must I become something motivated only by things remote? I'm losing some of my contact with God, and its dangerous, but does a Christian have to become untrue to their birthright, that of being a feeling person? It's a big question - I don't think anyone really knows Maybe I will be the first to learn, but hardly. Still, why not expect big things? Later As a birthday, this isn't much - a cake, but it's not like a real birthday cake ..... no jam in the middle ..... no pennies, no real birthday icing, and no candles! It was silly, ..... sort of - I walked into the kitchen, to see the cake. It is chocolate, and spongy....., and the icing had run down the sides artistically but on top were only little coloured sprinkles on top ..... not a candle ..... and I felt deffinately cheated ..... almost - as proof that I'm not really so grown up at all - I felt a few tears inside ..... Silly, isn't it? Presents - RK's book - that's the best ..... I love that book! Sentimental value ..... Pair of pink panties blue ban-lon sweater - which I love ..... And that's all! There was more last year, but why, this difference between fourteen and fifteen? It hurts just a little ..... For as long as I can remember, there have been cakes that were little islands of light in a darkened room ..... And there was always a happy birthday song ..... Am I a child at heart, still? But I am glad there are still a lot of things I can feel deeply ..... A gift to be valued ..... In a way Youth is, after all, feeling ..... I stayed home this afternoon, and by myself ..... I do seem to like a certain communication with myself, in quietness. Not in a jazzy mood this afternoon, I am instead quiet, and a hazy smoke-blue ..... But not much ..... It isn't very important tho.' And I'll leave it there ..... I wrote Reiner a long thoughtful letter ..... and I like him better now than when I saw him so often - too often I think - I feel tender, and he is so very considerate, such a gentleman, ..... with such a naïve way of combining eagerness and gentleness in his loving, and unsofistication with intitution ..... He is sweet, and he is cute ..... And just about perfect ..... Sometimes I think he does adore me, in a small way, or did, and sometimes I'm not so sure, because it seems not quite realistic - anyone adoring me? But somehow I think so with my "woman's intitution" - something that does exist, and that every girl does come by slowly but surely ..... I love living, and being perplexed ..... and wondering, and hurting, even. This is life - this is living But - is there any but? To the world of many people, there is - but as for me, I will love living!! March 17 Feeling like writing, but having nothing to write - yawn! I've been feeling so utterly normal lately - no inside stirrings, no moods, so absolutely normal! Aw! This is more dishappointing even than low moods - The first little yawn of spring is upon us - with the warm blooded running of waters - Spring is no gentle thing! Not in this land of snow, bare faced and rough land in winter and spiny-pacific [?] in summer ..... Here spring has the strength and ardour of youth - the roar of this strength - the rejoicing in youth and strength - spring is a word that needs adjectives as strong and simple and overpowering as it is - words that are hard to find, but that can be felt when listening to an unseen roaring in the dark - Spring, personified. Spring is no gentle thing! Dear Journal, Oh, I am relieved! I found out I could still get moods - this was an altogether different one from any I've had yet - Regret! I was reading "Its Tough Being a Teenager" (I disagree - Its not tough at all - its far worse being ten years old - ) and it gave me little pangs - oh, I do wish books, people, didn't influence me so much! I wish I was firm on my ideas, and stood by them! But this age is always an age of fumbling for principles, and for ideas that are individual, and personal. This mood of mine - still another type of questioning - is another off-beat type. Some of my necking I regret - some I don't! why do I regret what I regret? And that which I regret, I regret only faintly at times - I wish I could have spent more time being a pal to Doug, and not a girl always - you know what I mean - and I regret it because most of it was merely filling in time - he didn't seriously care anything about me, and I didn't seriously care anything about him ..... That was why I regret it - I wish I had teased RK a little more, altho' I really did behave myself quite well - I wish I could have limited it - one kiss, only. And a little more private! Paul - ? I wish I hadn't let him kiss me the night before I left - because, it was not what the first one was, it didn't mean anything ..... I didn't even feel much, so it was a wash out in that way too - and I wish I had stayed more teazy and less melty later on - it was a bit goofy. I should have run harder - I'd like to have had a few real heart to heart talks with him - make him think of me as more than a girl with brown eyes, and perhaps, a pixie smile. Being just a girl isn't everything, being a friend is much - Some things - a few glorious and splendid things, I am not sorry about, I won't ever be - Perhaps in my rebellion against conforming - I don't know! - but I will hold them in my heart ..... Dougs first kiss, Paul's first kiss, Reiners friendship ..... The night Doug and I had such fun, Paul's crazy, warm, wonderful palship - they will always mean something to me. And whether everything is like I see it, or whether I am only kidding myelf, I don't know - but they did mean something big to me ..... I wish it would have stayed that way ..... But now I know a lot more If there is a next time, I will know more, do things better ..... Maybe to a certain extent, I am still naïve - but count everything on as learning ..... I'm realizing more and more, having thought about it more, how very much a comradship has to do with a real boy friend, and anything like a kiss ..... if its not there, everything is built on something collapsible! Meditation ..... But my lamp is going out! March 27 - Sunday About 2 P.M. kitchen table Dear Journal, Finally again something to write about - ! It was yesterday - a Saturday - that it began, and it ended this morning at one. I went to YFC [Youth for Christ] with the Whilms - that in itself might not be so much, but I was in a "friendly friendly world" mood, and you know how that helps! We gabbed about a few things, till we got to Hidebrechts - they were coming too, or I should say, we were going with them. Allen, in a tight dress-up suit, Lorraine in her red coat and pink socks, and Mr! I don't know why it is, but Mr H bugs me even more than he bores me! O-o he seems so narrow minded, and dogmatic, - wow! He thought that - at Sexsmith the other night - the singing - one song was western - was so shocking, and the guy who was singing it wasn't even dressed up! A sports coat without a tie, indeed! Shecklich! - If you dig my deutch! It was the first time I'd ever been in the GPHS [Grande Prairie High School] - so Lorraine and I wandered around looking at the trophy case, the old Graduates, the home Ec room - and diffo things - I wish I went to school there! A guy showed Mrs Whilms and H around, and gabbed a little ..... A very peculiar individual wandered through the double doors - his black fur cap was sticking away out over his long shiny nose - it had a pinched look - and even queerer, his accent had a pinched sound! It was English, only worse - kind of cockney, but different too - He comes from South Africa - don't know why, but that in itself is interesting - His name is Mewberrie Hill - blueberry hill! - E-e-e-e-ks! Another queer personage was a fifteen year old guy there. He was very definitely unbalanced socially, but a 90% student otherwise! He was a little repulsive, although not really. His nose sloped out along the same line as his slanting forehead, and his eyes were beady. Almost, I could see long wiskers bristling under his nose - they were all that was needed to make him look exactly like an alley rat. The meeting started after a long while - Ruth Weatherby introduced me to Ruth Jones - the fat gal I saw at Sexsmith the other night, and whom I smiled at. Richard Parlee was there, and the blond G.P. Pentacostal I've noticed before - I like him! his name starts with "R" but I'm not sure of the rest. Might have been Ron. I wanted to talk to him, but hadn't the nerve - but I will, maybe if he goes to the Holiday Roundup! Explanaton required - during YFC, Mr Cormack anounced an Easter weekend Rally April 21-23, for 3 dollars, transportation provided. And as soon as he said it, I thought - that's for me - I'm going! Mom and Dad have not yet promised, but chances are good - and do I ever want to go! It will help so much as far as meeting people goes - and I'll get to know the Grande Prairie gang better. If only I can! Richard Parlee is going, so is Ruth W, and so is Jones ..... I just gotta! Maybe I can even vamoos with daddy's hat - his white stetson, cause it's a Western theme! Oo-oo, this is the best idea yet! Mr Whilms sermon, after a very informal fore-business, was serious, and convincing. At the end, he first asked those who wanted to accept Christ to raise their hands, and then he asked those Christians who wanted to mean business about sharing the news to stand. I slid to the edge of my chair, thinking about Reiner ..... and I found myself on my feet, without any shakes, or anything its kinda funny. I've done that before, but it didn't help much. I think I was thinking too, of getting a force so much bigger than me, behind me so I won't be so shapeless in personality. I don't know if anyone else stood up, I didn't look. After it was over, we were looking at things at the "magazine stand," and I was lookin' at the posters, when the blond guy from Zion Gospel Tabernacle sorta walked by, I smiled at him - don't know why - and he smiled back right away. Like I told Reiner, some people are the kind that you can smile at and then be instant friends. I think maybe thats the way we are - but I do want to talk to him. He isn't really cute, but looks as tho' he'd be nice, maybe a little like Reiner. By the way, Reiner, in my mind is changing a little - he has become someone whose friendship I value, who is awfully kind, and considerate, and protective. Last Friday night, after the Sexsmith program, I plunged through our driveway mud thoroughly frustrated and dog tired. The mud was sticky, pulling with sinuous hands at my feet, and I struggled - the rain falling around me, and the darkness so thick ..... Near the top of the hill, Daddy's lantern got so far ahead of me, and then, my foot got caught - I gave a desperate yank - the boot came off! with a sob, I clutched the boot and half ran to the house in my sock. I felt young and in want of protection. When I fell into bed with the covers around me, getting warm, I yearned to be, and sleepily pretended I was, in Reiner's arms. Nothing smoochy - just to be somewhere with his arms around me, and lean on his shoulder - only a longing for warmth and a little bit of protection it was so nice ..... That's what men are for, really, to keep girls warm and protected. And girls are to mother boys. A nice world, and a nice way. And there is such satisfaction for both sides in protecting and mothering! 7:30 PM I wrote that a few hours ago - feeling real good - gay, expectant, eager ..... Ppfstt! That was the mood the day the expectation disintigraton is what happened to them. My parents. Money. Again, I say Ppfst-t! - boom-sh They say I can't go. Too much money. They say it would take much more than $3. They say fifteen dollars. Fifteen dollars we don't have. Ppfst. All the air being let out of an expectation ballon. A deflating. Tears. A red nose. Sore eyes. Stay at home. Wet handkerchiefs. So I don't go? - but I was so sure I was going to - Actually, how could I have been so dense? - a tired sigh. Just get with it, girl. April 2 Saturday on the bed Dear Journal - A haunting voice singing "what a difference a Day Makes" - that's an every day's theme song. I've been keeping a mood chart - ranging from "miserable" to "dull" to "the most" - well in the last half month or so, the crooked line crawled all over the paper - into the pink clouds around the "vivacious" people, right down to the slimy, slow-sobbed "miserable" - mostly - this is what makes me feel so hopeless, it's centred around "dull," aw phooey! Its been a day that was different but not particularly comfortable ..... Really, I'm going to have to do something about me - This morning after I washed my hair, I was pretty - dark eyed, smooth skinned, shining haired - but that was in my mirror - I wonder, why is it that I can be so pretty sometimes, so homely sometimes, and usually so utterly unnoticable - so here I want to be terrifically unique - someone special, exotic ..... and so I am so utterly usual. If it weren't for my handicap, I'd just fade right into the surroundings like a chamelon one of those little reptiles that always looks like whats around it, 'cause it has to hide from its enemies. Only I've got no enemies, no real friends, only everybody just couldn't care less. Who are my friends, after all? Janeen - she's getting farther and farther away, I really don't make too much difference to her any more, I don't think, Lorraine - she doesn't know I'm alive. Myrtle - she'd rather be with Bernice because Bernice has clothes figure money background house crazy turn of mind. And that's whats happened to the old nutty club! And the rest? Bernice - is okay to talk to sometimes but I don't really approve of her, and her clothes money figure house make me uncomfortable..... Adrienne - like me, she just doesn't kick up any interest. So,? total assets - zero. I have to confess it's frustrating... Maybe it's being fifteen that makes the diffo - Maybe it's just me - And that's the whole trouble, me. My seat is too big - it was quite neat when I came home, but it's astonishing now ..... My nose? - also too - and my complexion - in the dark, and at certain times its okay, but my nose is too black-heady, and likewise my chin. My eyes - they can be nice, but usually they are oh so normal, so very ordinary ..... As for my hair - Its not fine, sometimes it looks pretty good too, after I wash it, in the sunlight it has auburn lights and a real gloss. A little later - I was originally going to rave on about my figure - how I am small breasted, barrell chested, and tapering, until! Until my seat! If I had 6" less seat, my figure would be pretty good ..... At least slender - Well, I'll try to work on it! And then, alas! My legs. One has a ballet dancer's calf and a really high arch, and the other tapers down to a knobby knee, then to a completely uncurved calf, then to a straight scarred ankle, then to a heel that sticks way out, and toes that huddle together pitifully. That is glamorous, beautiful me, from head to toe. Funny, as I'm writing this, I really don't feel at all blue or anything like that ..... Wonder why! Course it's not always like that! After supper today, Daddy was talkin' about the Goodsecs, who were here today - both guys were freep, 3-D, but Daddy said, about one of them "And as soon as Ellie came in to wipe up the floor, he just turned right around and looked." He laughed long and loud, leaning 'way back in his chair, "Boy if he's old enough to look, hes old enough to know that someone would notice." Well, I'll take Daddies word for it. April 3 Sunday kitchen table - The unavoidable Sunday afternoon commentary - I can't seem to get away from it - but if I didn't write an "impressions" then, I wouldn't be on page 72. As usual, I'm home with Pooh [Rudy] - This afternoon was an adventure of sorts. Y'see, daddy just made the down payment on Bakstad's place, and we had to inspect the place, so we went down there. It was a real sticky tramp, but Judy and I were feeling adventurous, so it was only a miner detail. We slipped through a gate, across a muddy yard, dashed through a little copse of slender young poplars, and onto a bare grassy hill with a big rock right on the crest of it. Natcherally we hopped right up onto the rock, for a first view. We could see quite a ways - to the lake, around and across it, some of our fields, Kroekers place, Sieberts, etc The rock itself has quite a history It dates back to the homesteader who bought the place first - his name was Webber; he was a bachelor. He had had that rock hauled there for a fee of 25 dollars, and every morning he would hobble out to it and grunt his way to the top, and there he'd stand for a first thing survey of the world. We may name it Webber's Folly, although that would be a better name for the whole farm cause it's very hilly and rocky. Our estimate of the place - that is, we kids', was: one scrumptius pine woods [spruce] to build houses in, two neat skating ponds, innumerable tobogganing hills, lots of crooked, hilly, bicycling roads, a musty, hay smelling loft in the barn, mountains of beer bottles to sell, piles of old newspapers, a toboggan, a beautiful black cat with enormous green eyes, a curly haired dog who growled frightfully but was terrified of us, 17 sheep, mounds of tin cans, a rustic log house that's terribly tiny a pair of figure skates, and enormous possibilities for summer exploration. That's our view. Now to get back to the "impressions" stuff I was thinking today, that sometimes young people are a great deal wiser than adults. I figure this way: youth is optomistic. The young don't say "I know we're going to get stuck here we can't make it!" That is only what the ordinary adult wails. We say "of course we'll get through!" and we do get through. Youth has the wisdom that comes from ignorence - but it is real wisdom, and it has courage: courage because it doesn't know any better, but courage never the less. The wisdom and the courage to live optomistically. They say "If you had been stuck as often as I have, you wouldn't want to either .... How ever are we going to get home?" We say "But we're not stuck yet; of course we don't want to be, but we're not, so why worry and why worry about getting home when we've only just left there If you have to worry, can it for later." See what I mean, wisdom? All this philosophying was born through a conversation between Mom and me, that's why the examples are so prosiac. April 12 A middle-of-the-week drizzle of news that's no news, really. High aspirations - ha! Mr Dyck has been talking to me about the Governor General's medal - he said I'm nearly on the ceiling now. "I'd like to see you get it" sez He, an' I sez "So would I!" Y'know, I think I like Mr Dyck even more than Mr Mann now, I think. Mr Mann is a wonderful guy - one of the nicest I've ever known ..... but Mr Dyck is a friend of mine - I think we understand each other to a certain extent Hes no wonderful guy - he's got all sorts of quirks and complexes but I like the guy! He's complex, he's interesting, he's fun so - and besides, hes really a good teach! I was terrif lucky this year - I mean, Mr Mann and M Dyck because for high aspirations, they're the most! The Semi Finals were the first goal, and now I'm nearly through them. a few marks I'll have to bring up - 73% Science - terrible! 82% Language ..... It's a pass, yes, but it doesn't satisfy me at all, especially the 73% - actually nothing under eighty is a pass. Over 85% is fair, and nothing is good till about 90%. In Social I got 88% - after going eenie meenie miney mo, and in Current Events 85%, a mark I didn't deserve @ all. The best ones were Literature 95% (a Semi Final but a pushover. I hope the final's as easy) and 94% in Math (I was shocked and I'm sure Mr Mann was too!) My Drama and French I haven't gotten back yet. So that, according to my standard, is a D, a C, two Bs and two Hs. Best of Luck girl! On the way home from school today, I peeked at the culvert under our road, and sat there on the road, my hind end sticking up into the air and my head inside the culvert. It reminds me of a poem, "Up tails all!" - and I was makin' singin' sounds - trying out the sound effect - the accousticks are terrific. Being in a good mood, I was singing [grotily] all the way home, and doing dance steps strictly from vaudeville! It's a mood I get once every so often. Dig the alternating slant! Yours, Ellie Epp April 14 Thursday ..... On the bed A book - a terrific book! A book more me than any I've read yet - I'm going to write one like it sometimes - maybe my life story - but I couldn't write that yet because I haven't come to any sort of ending - It was stark in a way - the book I mean, but honest in a way I can especially appreciate The ending was happy - but not impossible, just human, and a triumph. Really good for a change from sticky books I feel no sympathy for. The name was "The Trembling Years" and the girl who wrote it was Elsie Oakes Barber - I'm curious about her - what was she, is she? I'm going to write a letter and find out! (That's one of my latest fads - following up on impulses - letters especially - its an interesting world) What sort of a book was it? a book that made me cry in one place - what sort of a book could enable me to feel so much, inside of it? - It was about a girl, actually about me and any other girl who has ever had polio ..... She wrote about the hospital as being a wonderful place, home, and of the people she knew there wonderful people too, and different from the rest. Boys, of her feeling of being repulsive - she had bitterness, pain and she learned - a few things I haven't yet learned, and a few things I've always known. It was facinating - seeing myself - but not really myself. Kathy was beautiful, witty, and intelligent - she searched her mind for bit of hidden poetry - she had a beautiful body, but was paralized on her right side, and when, after much determination, she walked alone, it was a shambles, a thing of repulsion. Okay, the comparison - I am not beautiful, not even pretty, just occaisionally a little bit winsome looking. I am not witty - my conversation is just so-so. I am intelligent, that I am sure of, but is it enough? I do too, search my mind for poetry, but what I write, is it anything. I did think "Monogram" was good in its way, but the Co-op Page didn't [farm weekly's young people's poetry page] - and I still think, and maybe I'm only kidding myself, that someone with the right sort of mind would find something in it. My body is not beautiful, my leg is ugly, but I can walk, and when I do it is not a hideous thing in an extreme sense. Parallel, I'd think, only she had a little more, even in having less. She was 21 before she learned what I learned when I was 14. It really doesn't make any difference. Except sometimes it does. But always, in some thoughtful moment of weighing and balancing, there is a realization - "No, it doesn't make a little bit of difference. I'm glad it happened" - that is what it is to be young - and being handicapped is an adventure not everyone is fortunate enough to have. There were some incidents which were almost parallel - actually, not incidents, but emotions A little boy who stood and looked at her when she least wanted to be noticed, and who stood, staring, making remarks with the tactlessness of a child - like Anna Dreiger, like Judy sometimes, or Paul - like children, many of them. And Kathy slapped the boy. I know the feeling - how I have hated Anna! And I have slapped Judy, all the while knowing I was defeating myself by doing it. What a lot there is that the outside of this world wouldn't understand. And her feeling for Steve - Steve who had loved her, whom she had only liked ..... Someone always around, who became an obsession after she lost her walkingness. Its like Reiner - she needed him so much because of the need to be wanted, to be attractive, desirable, as a female ..... the kidding of herself - say, "he still loves me, hes jealous, he does still love me" - That - the desperation- which is duplicated altho' not as heavily, in me - I when I feel blue do hold tightly to th idea that Reiner loves me - maybe. He said so. And that brings me to an interesting observation. I got that Easter card from Reiner - sentimental enough to give me indigestion. I took it to school to show Bernice. And when the boys were teazing me at recess, Marvin tipped my binder, shaking the cards out onto the desk. I knew he wouldn't notice it if I ignored it, and that the fastest way to make him grab it would be to play it grabby. So I made a fuss, sticking it into my desk quick-like. Then Walter grabbed me, Marvin got the card - and when I took off after it, it got passed around a bit, Walter had it and I was chasing him. He ran, I broke into a gentle trot - Gerald said "You don't run much." Determined not to let it get me, I said "No, I don't. But when I'm after that, I do." His laugh made me feel handicapped. So 'course I didn't get it, and Gerald paced around the room reading it outloud - he was a bit rediculous -, when he came to the part of "Because I love you, Honey" it was rediculouser still. And he couldn't read the signature, so it came out "Because I love ya' honey. Reindeer."!!! But other than that - being honest with myself, I know I wanted them to see it, to read it, because I wanted to tell them somehow that I am not entirely unromanced, unkissed. - That I am a girl, a g-i-r-l who is not only a freak! Aren't people funny, especially me? I could go on forever. But I won't. instead, I'll write a book sometime ..... April 15, Friday 1960 Whilm's kitchen Again a different self - baby sitting at Whilms. Today I am pretty. Yesterday I was not. Today I am. And that's how it is - sometimes I am pretty, not to admit it would be being what I do not want to be - a periodical hypocrite. People who are pretty, and know it, then say they think they are enough to frighten a ghost - are disgusting because - well, why be a sham? Aw phooey. I myself am one often and even pretending isn't going to make me un-sham - But at least it's a principle. Something. And speaking about principles - well - this will explain about my stealing "principles" - I just kiped a half douzen marashino cherries from a jar downstairs ..... and boy, delish!!! No regrets At the moment I'm listening to a hot blooded beaty Nighthawk show - "Goin' Home Tomorrow" - I thought of Doug - me - hospital I've been thinking of Reiner today ..... I miss him ..... I've even talked to him ..... I miss his kissing ..... I miss kissing, period. Its an on-off sort of thing. today's on. I want to be loved a little ..... The girl I see in the glass reflection is pretty. She has deep dark eyes, a rosy mouth with an inside smile ..... and sorta soft. I wish Reiner was here, or Doug. Reiner would think I'm pretty, and be glad inside because I let him kiss me, actually not "let". That sounds old maidish, prim. I should say, asked him to, with my eyes. I have, you know. I know how! ..... it's a very simple matter. I've been having a day dream ..... we're right next to Angens you know, and Gary is only across the street ..... There's a picture - he hears me singing outside, he ambles over ..... knocks at the door, softly. I walk over, open the door, and he realizes that I'm not Elfreda Epp, limpy ..... That I am Ellie, a girl, and with the softness and warmness of being one. And I talk to him the way I feel and write, and he would sit here, in this kitchen, surprized, happy, and in a mild mental disorder ..... and he would go home later, "not knowing why or what his wondr'ings are" and "Wondering if and how I, Ellie, am." And then never forget a Good Friday night, and find in giggles a bit of superficiality ..... it wouldn't have to be any more, only that. Just a stirrings from a boy who is just a little bit curious ..... Raymond and I have played a little game, a sort of delightful little game ..... I was talking to Bernice, I smiled. He looked at me. He smiled. A smile of lifted mouth corners. He is just a boy. Crew cut and baseball and smile. I like him. and I don't know about him, about me, but there is a small chance. That was yesterday. I was wearing a scarf around my hair, I looked a little tanned and wood spirited ..... He smiled his own composition, his smile I mean, and laughing inside, being happy, I smiled back, not looking directly at him. And he smiled again, that same smile. I laughed inside again. happiness. April 16 - Saturday Dawson Creek - This morning I went 'long with Daddy to the big city - BC. The road, under a drenching sun, was wide, winding, and vastly appealing ..... A road in the sunshine is something I cannot resist feeling ..... Going, somewhere, anywhere ..... To people and places and adventures! I'd like to start right now. And this morning I've been thinking about RK again. I wish he was here now sitting on the other side of me, and we'd hold hands, being careful not to let Daddy see ..... And we'd laugh, and exclaim on the airplanes, and then in Dawson Creek we'd amble down the street, holding hands, just walking and talking. M-m nice! I'd like to be with him in a lot of places. Find the desert again, and the ocean, and mountains. Meet people, any kind of people ..... and take pictures, and write pages and pages of Impressions, and sometimes, but not too often, end walks with a little bit of cheek-to-cheek stuff. Just to go. Anywhere. Ltr - we fooled around at some Case dealers and then Daddy asked, "Should we go into town and have something to eat?" I said "Sure!" So we went through a few streets - me noticing the boys especially, natch. We ended at Wing's restaurant, and sat along a counter while the J box played "Souvenirs" and "Welcome Young Lovers" by Connie and Pat. There were a few cute guys but I couldn't seem [?] so I concentrated on the young Japanese Canadian who was serving us. Daddy introduced me as his new girlfriend but Paul Waith was dubious. I had a Strawberry Sundae - delish, and Paul had a choc'lit shake. April 18 Sewed a black cotton plaid tight skirt and a red cotton peasant skirt. These are the lazy Easter holidays. April 19 - Tuesday Living room big chair I re-read "The Trembling Years" and felt it every bit as much. I even cryed again at one place ..... It is a wonderfully real book - but I won't rave any more - I just wanted to write down a little bit of what I found in it There was this - it is good and as real as it is appealing to me.
But that any of these are misfortunes to him is an addition which everyone makes of his own. But, you say, God is unjust in this. Why? For having given thee endurance and greatness of soul? ... For placing happiness within thy reach even when enduring them? For opening unto thee a door when things make not for thy good? Depart my Friend, find fault no more."
See what I mean? Epictetus wrote it - He was a Greek. Besides being a philosopher he was a slave. I think, in his own way he is saying to the world
I wish I could have said it that way - actually, I think I do feel that way about it most of the time And I wish I could know my feelings and write them in the way Elsie Oakes Barber could ..... I've found another brand new ambition - I want to write ..... Write about things as I know them. Not sentiment, not gushiness, not long description, just reality. I wonder if it's just a mood? Just for now? It might be, but it might not be, too. I'm fifteen now - I have the advantages of knowing something no body else knows, of having an imagination, of being able to find words to a certain extent, of wanting to search my mind for the feelings that are there, and then to express them, and I want to be a writer. Because? Because there are so many things I want to say, because I love to imagine, and tell stories, because I'd like to say I had written a book ..... Whether I will be able to or not, I really don't know - but I do know that if I had any wish for an ability - I would wish to be able to write, really well. Once Peter asked Kathy what she wanted from life - what do I want? That's not really a hard question - But is my answer going to be sincere right to the bottom? This is it, as best as I know, now. Adventure - that comes first; Accomplishment - books - perhaps just a dusting of fame - not necessarily much; Acceptence - being liked, sought after among people I like and admire, a fitting in; a Beingness - what I mean is, a uniqueness, a personal self different from anyone elses, continual learning of spirit through people and places and experiences. Selfish, a little bit - but fairly true. April 21 Letter from RK - Worked at the Bakstad place, I mean the "summer home!" Jimmy [Creighton] is working there too. April 29 - Friday 5:20 P.M. A day-sized adventure! This morning - I'd better explain that today was a holiday for us because of a high school teacher's convention - Myrtle, in her red car coat, and cowboy kings came riding up our driveway as I had expected. Yesterday afternoon, Myrtle came up with a suggestion that was brilliant to say the very least - "Why don't Ellie and I go down to your place on our bikes tomorrow?!" (I'm not quoting verbatim or anything -) is what she said Natcherly we were very 'greeable. And that's how it happened that Myrtle turned in our driveway at approximately 10:10 A.M. this morning. But she wasn't alone - Gail was there too, and as blonde and enviable as ever in another bright red coat and in blue jeans that, as all clothes do, looked so perfectly fitted on her. There had been a struggle of sorts this morning - parent type people vs me. I won! But only after the biannual speech on the "busy season" - it happens every spring and every fall, and never gets any more inspiring. But I used my favorite secret weapon, and with Pop's help, I made it! Mom was all for keeping me at home to work. That was why I didn't tell them that I didn't have to go to school until late this morning - one must be cagey! (or nothing at all!) Oh - I should explain my secret weapon - well, unlikely as this may seem, it's a laugh. After serious jaw grinding statement from Pop's better half I break out into a sudden and side-splitting laugh, completely, as far as she knows, unprovoked. So, she thinks it's something she did, and that disconcerts her immensely! But because I'm laughing, she can't keep looking gimlet eyed because it would be even more redic, so she has to smile to save face. And after you've got them smiling, the battle is yours! Okay - I worked that this morning and Daddy, after the speech, was disposed to let me go - so Mom did allow me, and I was real good all morning to make up for it. I was scared a few times tho'. After pocketing 3 apples from the box in the porch I mounted my trusty steed, and 'way we went, down the lane. The hill was v'y steep, and a little soft at the bottom, but I was still frisky, and so were they, so it wasn't bad. Then the road was smooth and down hill for a while - we talked, riding three abreast, usually not anything goofy, just very ordinary gab. After a mile or two, Gail was going to give me a piece of licorice, and we were going to do it relay style. We were about two feet apart, and I had one hand out trying to get ahold of the licorice, when I felt myself swerving right toward Gail, so I deliberately tipped, and slid into her anyway. She folded over on top of me, and then Myrtle, who had been riding behind us, drove right onto both of us. After a huge laugh, we unscrambled, and continued. At the bottom of the hill, just beside Levelton's Lake, we skidded to a stop in front of a little house - then boldly, we marched to the door and knocked. "Who's this?" said Judy Strand - looking at me - I had been commissioned to do the talking. And after we'd each had a huge tumbler full [of water] we rolled on again, around the lake. The sun was getting warmer now, and the road was a wonderful country dirt eddition ..... Just around the lake, there's a loverly old house at the end of a delighful dirt drive-in, a house with an enchanting amount of windows ..... We, being of a daring mood, turned into the drive, and skimmed onto the yard ..... We had just leaned our bikes onto the grass when we heard a tractor, and a little grey Fordson appeared, cultivating the garden. In a trice, Myrtle was halfway up the lane, Gail was standing by on her bike, and I was just waivering between them ..... Gail thought we should stay and talk to him, but he stayed on his tractor, so we sashayed down the road again. the hill going up, was long and hot and laborious. At the top, we saw that we were nearly at Alstad's - that we could fix our beady eyes on their windmill At their door, Bernice appeared in a pair of Lloyd's pants and an incredibly (for her) ancient shirt - She was a little stiff at first, but five minutes later we were giggling in her bedroom. She changed her clothes, and while changing her shirt, I saw the undercover story. She really is stacked!! It's sorta funny - Myrtle can rave for hours about how cute Bernice is, how oo-la-la, and how much fun ..... But me, I don't get it. In pink lipstick, cute yes. Otherwise, not very. Hair blonde, yes, but not special. Eyes blue, sure, but only eyes. Figure - big bust, but not to shapely, ordinary derriere, ancles a bit thick. Legs not very good. Personality, improved, but - not that good! So I don't get it. Myrtle doesn't rave about me at all. Sour grapes. Haven't I got anything? We looked at pictures - Myrtle and Bernice were gabby - I put in my 2 cents (plain) but Gail was quiet, I thought. nearly all of the picture were of Bernice - it was just a little bit peeving ..... they asked for some - I got a cute one of Bernice, and another one of Lloyd in a brushcut singing "Bernadine." - I like that picture, and actually, I like Lloyd too ..... but as a boyfriend, I wonder ..... he doesn't believe in kissing, so phooey! That's one thing about boys I am capable of missing - I thought of RK once or twice today, wistfully ..... After a dinner - I sat beside Mr Alstad - made eyes at him - we sat around and talked ..... Lloyd, at the end of the table, shovelled crabapples into his plate the whole while. We told little stories ..... I noticed, Lloyd looked at me once or twice, even. he didn't notice Myrtle too much ..... Gail he was sitting beside ..... I wonder what he thought ..... I could have looked worse ..... my hair was a bit fly away as I washed it yesterday, but shiny, and I was wearing just a touch of my new pink orange lipstick ..... After dishes, we got out Lloyd's bike for B, and trekked down the hill again, this time we were going to Throness's - There was a short cut, and a tremendously steep hill sloping right into their back yard - this we "traversed" and never in my life have I had a ride like that before It was steep, and like a washboard ..... I could hardly see the road for the blur, all the way down. Gail and Myrtle were already 'way down and Bernice came whooping behind me. I believe we yelled all the way down ..... At Thronesses, we knocked twice, very loudly, then walked in to be struck by a very bachelor like chaos ..... We wanted a drink - and while rooting around for a glass, I had my one and only good idea for the day - "Let's do the dishes!" Half an hour later, the dishes were done, the bed made, the living room tidied, and the floor swept. We typed a note on their portable and propped it under a shaving mirror on the kitchen table
Then, still giggling at what they'd say when they saw it, we left. Our bikes were propped against the fence, ready to take off, and we did. Undecided about what next, we went down the road toward Vekveds ..... there was a creek, and two hills on both sides ..... we stopped for our lunch Under a Spruce tree whose drooping branches built a house around us, we opened our tin of pineapple with a rusty can opener ..... Fishing out golden rings, we nibbled joyfully, enjoying them tremendously. Then we all got a piece of the label, and a little spruce cone for souvenirs - we did agree tho', that we wouldn't need souvenirs to remember the day by! Later, along the road, we decided we'd had enough and turned around ..... Near our creek, Gail lost her chain, so we had to put that on, and then continued, going home now. Now we got near Levelton's Lake again - and it looked enormously inviting. But a bit shallow! We stopped for a while - I took off my shoes and got my feet wet, and it felt so go-o-od! Then we all sat down on a log and had a lazy sort of gab, just lazing in the shade ..... Once, I stood a little ways off, looking at their backs, feeling a little bit alone in the crowd ..... thinking about them, Gail and Bernice so blonde and neat figured, and female - and I wondered about myself - where did I stand? Where do I come in? Or do I, will I always, be on the outside?..... We did finally go ..... said g'bye to Bernice at the forks, and trudged uphill - it was a very long hill I was still feeling "out" ..... and there are only two tracks on a road - and we were there - an odd man, me. At Morrisons corner, many hot miles later, they kept going while I stopped to see Adrienne just for a minute, and to get a drink. When I turned in, Al was standing in front of the house with his guitar, strumming just a little. He hollared "hello" when I was still half a lane away, and I hollared hi back ..... The kitchen was an oven, and I stayed just long enough for my drink, and then went out again ..... Told her a little bit about it outside ..... and talked to Al a little bit. He seemed very disinterested ..... I think he was disappointed ..... I mentioned Gail, he pricked up his ears and said "Angen?!" ..... he also said he'd thought I was Sharon when I was just coming. Tough! Well, I didn't go to see him. Then home, and exhaustion. Poof! April 30 Rode to L.G. on the bike for mail in spite of groaning aches - 2 parcels - tight blue jeans, bobby socks, and bras - (size 36B!) for me - May 2 I wore my new cowboy kings - they make me feel lythe and slim and teen. I watched a beaver at the dam, examined our new ("rented out") ponies, feel happy. May 3 A day of wearing my crinoline and my peasant kirt. Those days are always nice got back two quizzes, Math 20/20, Social 26/30. Saw 1 cute guy - the gas man's son. May 10 Leaves came out! five days earlier than last year. May 12 I knew instinctively when I woke up this morning that it was going to be a real good day - and it was, in all ways: teasing - Al was (ugh) queerly friendly. Why? I'm always saying why. May 14 Rain for two days solid - and a sore throat! Played architect and designed Judy a house - and worked on my latest "poem" "The Music Box" May 15, 1960 Sunday In bed, Late evening As all Sundays - nothing. But Friday puzzles me a little - Because it rained very lustily on Friday and I didn't go to school - and the afternoon was stormy not only for me but for the outside world - What I should have said was - not only for the outside world but for my feelings too. I was just plain miserable - Maybe because it was the day of the big Youth for Christ graduation party, and I couldn't go. Because - no escort, nobody asked me, and even if they had I couldn't have because I have no party dress, and even if I had I couldn't because my Sunday shoes are wrecked and you can't wear penny loafers to a formal party. Besides that - I was in the mood for feeling sorry for myself, I had a case of the 'druthers ..... Actually, I knew even while I was weepin' and gnashing my teeth that that was the main reason for all my miserableness ..... But I was happy being miserable, and so I let myself go and bawled ..... I drew a caricature of myself - a girl with her hair hanging all over her head, her jutting nose speckled, and fat tears washing down her cheeks .... Her whole body was wide and sloping toward the middle from the rib bones. Her bare legs - one grotesquely fat and the other skinny, ridged by scars - were thrust into her ragged Sunday shoes. But the funnyest part - it did look too much like me. And I cried all over it, tears splashing and smudging the ink - because I was so ugly. And I faintly respented Mom's complacency, and her matter-of-factness ..... By evening I was laughing at myself tho'. May 18, Wednesday In bed 10:30 P.M. Dear J - Isn't it funny how things can be so utterly floppish one time, and so much fun the next? What I'm talking about is ball games - the last one I went to was terrible - I felt absolutely out of it, homely, dull, etc, and I talked to myself all the way home - And today - the ball game was fine - I didn't feel so inferior, and I yelled, and wore Lloyd's leather jacket and Lloyd's (Throness) watch. We won - Phil and Henry were a little tipsy from (actu-gasp-ally!!) beer, and in high spirits. But after the game - we - Gail, Sharon, and I - went to the café where Gail treated us - no it was Sharon this time - to a pop. We took a long time - listening to the j. box and so on. Currie Hoflin and Francis Wally, and Neal someone (Fimrite?) had a grey truck (Chev!) and were chasing us in it. When we got out, we sprinted across Olsen's yard to Angens - it was kinda' fun, while they roared around the block. There, we fooled around, playing catch, etc. And they kept driving by and hollaring something every time - after a while, when we were sitting on the wet grass, they stopped and gabbed - we asked if their mommys knew where they were - etc. After a while they asked us to go for a ride - we said we wouldn't because our taste runs to Cadillacs - and they said they had a cattle-rack. Would that do? We threw them a piece of evergreen because there were no flowers around - they didn't even catch it - And then Gail decided that I was going home with them and promptly loaded my bike on the back of the truck while I glared at them; and after a while they took it off again and I went home - feeling a lot better than last time. May 20 Late 'gain Oh the wonderful things a new hair-do and orangey lipstick can do for a girl - and the knowledge tucked into a packet over her heart, that a boy - Reiner - wants to name his boat after her!! Tonight the mirror on my Chinese music box tells me that I'm so pretty I surprise myself when I smile - and sometimes I'm so ugly ..... And I don't know why. just what exactly is it to be beautiful, pretty, cute? Is it something that bubbles up from the subconscious when you are very happy and that turns to dust when you are gaunchy, disturbed inside? Or are you unhappy because you are unbeautiful? I know that happens - and are you happy because you know you are a pretty female? Reiner sent me a picture of him - and it looks like the guy I see in my mind ..... A tall boy, lean, striding down the street with a gait I can't quite explain but sure and confident of a future. A lean-ish face, with the mouth as always ready to grin at a moments notice. His eyes, in the picture, are what really facinates me most - they are looking ahead, and as if seeing something no one else sees ..... and every time I look at them, I could almost swear that they had been gazing straight at me, and then when I look at him directly, they seem to flick swiftly back to looking into a world only he can see. And of course that's why I'm feelin' so happy today - what girl wouldn't? he wrote on the "P.S." "Il te manque beaucoup" ..... It means "I miss you a lot." Nice And natcherly, I'm all daydrams again ..... I'd like to - on a moonlit night on Webber's Hill by the tomb stone - take his young face between my hands and kiss him, like he has never before been kissed, with everything I can dig up out of my bag of femaleness. All this could be called a bit silly I suppose - not that I'd admit it, but I'm fifteen. I'm a girl. I - well, I like boys, I like kissing, I like Reiner. So - and I might as well spill the rest so my future won't forget it - You know that window in the old house that I'm always walking past? That shouldn't be a question mark, it's not a question - I can always see my reflection in it, and I (blush!) always think, imagine, wish, that Reiner is, maybe, somewhere beyond that glass, seeing me as I see myself in the mirror ..... And when it's dark in the evenings, and I'm 'specially lonesome, sometimes I ..... this is sorta' uncomfortable to tell about! - lean toward the glass and kiss R.K. goodnight, (and with feeling!) somehow trying to communicate - femininity to masculinity - the tenderness, the softness, the warmth, (My face should be very red!) of me, or of the imagined me - to the boy, the symbol perhaps, the friend, the masculine personality - Well, it's just a wild-daydreamish day and I'll get over it. next installment our heroine again bravely tackles life. 'Till then, good night and sweet dreams and all that jazz.
May 21 It snowed - two inches - today, and theres a real wicked wind May 29 Sunday - P.M. (post mortem!!) A confession - something I did that I feel unconfortable about but still do not regret - I read part of Mom's Diary - well, not actually in the Diary so I could say I hadn't read it - but some loose pages of memoirs in it - about when she was young and hated life - and about when she was older and confused - but a strange person - wild about religion and God - you know, I tho't that only happened lately - and with a very tender conscience - when she was "in love" with Daddy and was writing poems to and about him ..... It gave me a big insight into her background ..... It was all frank and poignant - and there were some of the letters daddy wrote - Imagine, poetry - and romantic, as well as religious. I haven't got much faith in romantic love - in fact I don't believe in it. Especially this stuff about its immortality - it's just not true! I think Mom and Dad must have been quite "in love" judging from all that gooey jazz in their poetry (they wrote all their love-letters in German!!) and in her diary, mom gassed about "Ed's nobility." Whatever happened? That's why I just can't believe it ..... I can think of few people I know who are less noble right now. So how can I believe that it could possibly last for me? - I have a lot less of what it takes than she had - and she was so sure it was God's will ..... And that's why I am not going to get married. 1st of June And that means study from this day to the 30th! June 3 Thursday This is a Literature assignment - but what Mr Dyck wrote on it turned it into "Impressions" material. I had quakings about the P.S. but it was an impulse so I left it. He must have liked it. "Love" - what a crazy paragraph topic! I put down what I thought tho' and that's probably what made it something Mr Dyck would like. He enjoys being snoopy about peoples inside but I don't mind. Love Pg 684 I Corinthians 13 Love is a word I am constantly being bombarded with, until it bounces off my mind without meaning anything. I do not think my experience consciously includes it; I cannot think of anyone that I love. but if love can make a nothing into a something, and if the lack of love can keep everything from being anything, it must be the most important force there is. I think love is mostly an instinctive affection in its most unselfish form. Post Scriptum - This chapter (I Corinthians 13) has been a favorite of mine for a long time and I've read it often but you might like to know that while you were going over it I learned a few things from it that I had been wondering about - thankyou. [His comments:] Many people, supposedly better qualified than you or I, have tried to tell the world all about "Love". Although we sometimes tend to converge all opinions to one single facet, a man-woman relationship, I cannot resist the invitation to point out to you that you, in my estimation, have perhaps several loves - true loves at that. (Can a love ever be false - pretentious?) I am convinced of your love of Literature. Love cannot be hidden, you know. Do you recall "My Mother's Words"? I am often reminded of it when reading your essays. Hence I feel right in predicting that you also love words: the way they sound when spoken, or feel when silently perused. And finally, without tagging you as a philanthropist, I perceive a little of "the old philosopher" in your frank analysis. I like it. June 4 A housecleaning spree all day - scrubbing, waxing, polishing June 5 Sunday - Ken D's Wedding And the most dismal day I've had for a long time; my dress didn't come so I knew I shouldn't go ..... but I did anyway, a last moment disicion. It was horrible too. - everything I said was ignored so I didn't say much - nobody, not anybody looked at me twice - Carol Osborne was there - in a beautiful dress, with that slim, long-stemmed look, and as captivating as ever - I was wearing bobby socks and penny loafers - nobody, not one of my oh-so-few friends was there - so I sat in the truck part of the time, or on the front steps, just sitting - and I know I was the loneliest person there and here in La Glace, where I have lived all my life, I am lonelier than anyone else, or than I am anywhere else Tho I knew I was being plain ordinary silly, whenever I nearly burst into tears, I'd look @ Reiner's picture; that would help for a while; and then I would read one sentence that's written inside - I love you. Reiner - and that would help even more, altho' I know that its not true. But I don't know what I'd do if it wasn't for him. June 6 Rained today - I got nice'n'wet cause I stood under a tree and shook it to bring down the water, and squished in bare feet. June 8 The only Notable things - read a Seventeen magazine, only got to school at noon because of the mud June 13 There were rumors that Grandpa and Gran'ma might come today but they didn't. June 17 Wrote the french final and it really wasn't bad at all. The rain is as faithful [?] in appearing as the moon is - drip, drip, drip. Sloshed home in my socks but it was cold. June 18 Chased cows, drove the truck - imagine! For a whole mile, on highway too, we've been cleaning up the yard - because Grandpa might come!! June 19 This is another one of those breathy "essays" about by life. "On my teach." The reason I started this this way is that I couldn't resist starting the sentence wth one of my new style "t's" and after the "T" the rest of the sentence just came. You know how it is. One day in Lit class I wrote down an impulse-sketch of Mr. Dyck. He was: "Sitting on his desk, his legs wrapped around each other, leaning toward his class. An earnest look on his face, his eyes searching for any signs of understanding amoung us. And there is a feeling between us, of sharing that. My knowing of his knowing that I know ..... there is asking of questions, and receiving of answers, and then the careful deliberation of my replies, and the agreement after a while " That was how I saw him then, and many times before and after. since I can't resist talking about him, I might as well go into detail. Hes a bit of an obsession to me. At odd times I suspect myself of being a little in love with him. But that doesn't happen very often. He's not good looking. That I'm sure of. He has got beautiful red hair, and his eyes are blue, and have so many expressions in them. I get kidded about him, and it bugs me only because it could be true, and it's something I don't particularly like rediculled. Because he is a friend. In fact, I could honestly say that I like him better than anybody in the school - well, class. I understand him to a certain extent, and he understands me, sometimes too well. But understanding goes a long way towards friendship. He's impetuous, sometimes sarcastic but I could forgive anything like that because he is alive and witty and interesting, and sometimes, warm. Lovable in a way. Sometimes. But always interesting. The unpardonable sin for a teacher is to be dull. Anything else is forgivable. Tantrums are merely something to be observed with interest. Some of the kids don't like him, but I've noticed that Myrtle, who is about the least grown up of any of us, dislikes him most. She doesn't even like Mr. Mann, who is wonderful at least. We don't have much in common any more I'm sorry about that, but not more sorry than I am about the rest. I don't seem to fit to well anywhere, and it bothers me, so I dream wistfully of far pastures, of Edmonton, cities, and so on, of people in streetcars, and apartments, and elevators. Of rooftops and night walks where the lamp posts are ancient and the light mellowed before it falls in a diffusion of shadow to the sidewalk. I'm thinking, to be exact, of "Walking Street", Edmonton. You see, RK sent me a picture of the street in Edmonton where we always walked. He took it himself, and it is a form of art too. the lamp post looks as if it has been there for a long time, the ridges in the concrete base are worn, and suggest moss, the light is just a small circle around the glass bowl. Goodness, here I am, in 2 small steps from my teacher to my lovelife. My long distance love life that is. I miss him. Fac' is, I'm a little bit in love with him too, sometimes. Because I'm lonesome boy-wise. Primitive emotions and all that jazz. I don't understand him to well, it would help if I saw him once in a while He is quite sentimental ..... its good for the self respect altho' I distrust mushiness. He presents a challenge, and he's somewhat more than nothing as far as looks goes. And he's affectionate - I don't know how deeply. But I think that when he says "I love you" he means, at least "you are loveable. You are kissable. You are cute. You are a fellow creature. You are available. I like you." And that's okay by me. June 21 Another rain and stay home and no study and fight day. What if it rains so I can't go for the test on Friday? The creek is rampaging, its as high as the bridge!! June 22 Evidently I got that crazy ol' award for highest in class - so I gotta go to the home and school meeting to get it and I don't want to! sour grapes, because of no dress, and bobby socks and penny loafers.
|