23 Sherwood Drive

A diary, a writing prompt, maybe a memoir (sort of)

My personal time capsule

In November, 1964, I went to the Caldor in Danbury, Connecticut and bought a diary. For the next year, I tried to record each day’s events. Sometimes they were actual historical events (the assassination of Malcolm X, for instance.) More often I wrote about the very mundane life of a girl, fifteen going on sixteen, in a small New England town.

The Blogger days

I transcribed several month’s worth on entries into a Blogger account a long time ago, then abandoned the effort for reasons I have since forgotten.

The Substack version: WHY, for heaven’s sake

I am still drawn to that little red diary. There are secrets there, and memories, all clues to who I was and who I became. But I am also curious about how others remember those times. It’s also interesting to find out how younger readers react to this glimpse of my experience.

Will it be an actual diary?

I will try to post on the date of the original entry. No promises; life does continue to happen.

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