August 12
So many words. Also, happy birthday, Dad. It's ok.
1965 (Camp Maria Pratt, Connecticut)
Dad’s birthday. He’ll be 44. Dad and Mom came to visit today. I’m glad they came. In fact, I almost cried I was so happy to see them. I hope they come to the candlelight ceremony tomorrow night.
I was initiated as an Indian. My name is Graceful Pine.
Comment 2023
Oh, the 60s! You have no idea how rampant cultural appropriation was back in the day. Graceful Pine, indeed.
1966
And here we are at 1 AM in Laredo, Texas - the Hotel Hamilton. First our goal was Matehuala, then Saltillo, then Monterrey. Not hotel rooms available. Finally we made it to the border. Customs check was easy and only took about 15 minutes.
I miss Juan. I love him so much. I can’t stop thinking about him. I miss him more than anyone of the family. I wish I were with Juan now - home. That’s home to me. I wish he were here! He’s got to write to me. I need him.
Pati gave me some Maja perfume. If only Juan were here to enjoy it.
1967
Came up to York Beach, ME with Chrissie and Tim, who read every sign between New Milford and here. Cased the joint. Boys are wear wind breakers and prep school T-shirts. And look like they are on the lookout for pickups. All the girls look like they would meet them at least half way. Wanted until 2 am for Marcia and the Barlows to arrive. It got so cold we sat out on the porch wrapped in blankets.
1974 (Alexandria Bay, New York)
My God, how long I wait to write! I am back on the St. Lawrence, in a cottage near the one we had last summer. Being costumer suits me, though I am underpaid and underbudgeted. (Not to mention unhelped. No assistant, just me.) So it’s 1000 Island Summer Theater ’74, with Deborah having a baby, Jim doing some excellent work, and Rudi. Ah, Rudi. The biggest comfort to my wounded ego. I told him…if he were taller, or I were shorter, and neither of us married, I could have a really lousy summer. So instead, we are friends, drinking buddies and confidants, and neither of us would have it any other way. I think we’ve made a friend for life. The grand luck to find a friend when I needed one most.
Now, off to school again. A new home and new adventures. Basically, a good summer.
I feel terrific, alive…and ADULT!
I wrote this poem sitting on the hill behind our cottage, watching the ships drift down the river.
Crystal
Dreams don’t fade.
Unlived,
they gather round us like amber crystals.
Encased, we gaze
through golden walls and smile.
“I still can dream”
But can you move?
Comment 2023
And then off we went to Rhode Island, me to graduate school and Jim to new work outside of theater. We’ve kept in touch for the decades with Rudi as he traveled from Rochester to Massachusetts to Atlanta to Ohio to Pennsylvania and finally to the West Coast. It’s been a while now; it happens. I was so proud of my restraint. Staying in the friend zone with Rudi was indeed a sign of growth!
1980
Marley continues to mend, and to require considerable attention. Mom and I are having a pleasant visit, though the weather is hot and muggy, and we haven’t been able to do much of anything. (Other than go shopping).
1984
Mom is moving to Largo Landing this week. (At last!) There’s a lot to do because of that. It’s still iffy; the movers haven’t given us a day or time yet. I went to a farewell for a grad school friend last night. A strange time. It was at a singles bar, we were all women. The conversation was so shallow. That includes my friend, who has acquired a materialist streak that left me shaken. After all, we used to go camping together. Does that sound catty and critical? I liked her better when we were all poor.
1996
Happy birthday, Dad. I miss you.
Well, I think the summer is over. The relaxing part, anyway. The Kids and I visited Connie and Jack last week.
I am on the home stretch before school starts, and am feeling the usual sense of nervousness. Will I get it all done? Can it all get done? What needs to be done, anyway? (Good questions!!)
1997
Several tasks await me today. To begin with, I have work not finished that I hoped to have done by now. It feels good to realize that most of it is undone because I underestimated how long it would take, not because I just didn’t try. I also have tasks that were scheduled for this week, anyway.
I want to start treating a schedule for myself that will preserve my solitary time in the new semester. I managed to do it last winter, but it seems like something that needs to be renegotiated every now and then.
Yesterday I was struck by the realization that the last decade or so has been one of never-ending challenges. Every year I would hope the coming year would be better, only to have it the same or even worse. Maybe this is adult life, and it is time to stop waiting for untroubled times to return and just get on with life as well as I can.
1985 cervical biopsy
1986 Mom’s first major depression and hospitalization, during the last months of my second pregnancy
1987 unproductive, impoverished sabbatical
1988 - 1991 departmental conflict and collapse
1989 Mom’s second depression
1990 Jim’s boss murdered
1992 department eliminated
1993 teaching my brains out in a new department
1994 Dad died
1995 Woodward and Lothrop closed; Jim laid off, Kiddo 1 broke both arms
1996 Jim’s mother died; working two administrative jobs at once
1997 Mom died
I have grown through these events, but could really use a year off.
Comment 2024
My midlife really sucked.
2005
Dad’s 84th birthday. I clearly have not forgiven him.
Comment 2024
The resentment came and went for years. It’s gone now, replaced by sad fondness. He did his best.
2007
What do I love to do, without hesitation? Does it mater? Is it reasonable to choose to do only those things? How do I balance the things I do without hesitation and the ones I only enjoy when they are done.?
2013
I have a choice to make about how I spend my time over the next three weeks. Do I plod along making steady progress but also scheduling daily downtime? Should I shift into high gear for now, so I have some time off at the end of the three weeks? At night I lie in bed planning how to get everything done in two weeks and have a week off. But in the morning, I realize I will be doing well to be able to write for two or three hours, and then move on to something also. It will be a good book.
2016
Race is the parent of racism. (Coates)
People sometimes ask “ What do you want readers to take away from your books?” It’s always the same. I want people to think “I never thought of that before!” I really do believe in the power of awareness. In today’s vernacular, of being “woke”. Being aware of what’s really going on, of someone else’s perspective, seeing yourself from a different angle. Isn’t that what makes love so amazing? The alteration of your own sense of self that comes from seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes. It changes everything. I think humans crave that. We long to be seen by others in order to understand ourselves better. Maybe that’s an underlying purpose of our social nature. I feel this!
2017
Happy birthday, Dad.
I read the last part of chapter 5 in the book I am reviewing. It is quite good, and making me think more about the counterculture. Just a couple more chapters to go; must start drafting tomorrow.
I also played Township for nearly an hour. THIS MUST STOP.
2023
It never fails. I went to campus* to drop off some DVDs and pick up some more DVDs, and all the words start pouring into my brain, and I didn’t bring a pad of paper. So here are some of my thoughts: I am a fake historian. I know, because I have been told repeatedly. I used to say that I had deep thoughts about shallow things as it turns out, I have shallow thoughts about deep things.
It’s not totally my fault, though. The entire landscape of gender studies, such as it is, is so fragmented, and so silo’ed, that none of us working in that had any idea what anyone else was doing. So I did my little bit, my little piece of the world of fashion, history and gender such as it was.
I look at the citations for my work, and I despair. Most of the people whose works I have read about gender did not ever read mine. Here I thought I was reaching some kind of audience that could make use of my insights and discoveries. But I was on a desert island, tossing messages in a bottle into the vast ocean . And no one ever read them.
*Yes, I am still quarantined, but according to my jailers I can walk outside unmasked and run errands in my car as long as I am masked around people. What other people? Here is my car in the campus parking lot.
