February 17, 1965

A pattern emerges

February 17, 1965

I LOVE V - EVEN IF HE IS AN IDIOT!

At 9:30 Dad brought a friend of his home. His name is Bob something, he's single and about 26 years old. And cute and sweet and about 5'4". Shucks! Why are all the nice guys short? Why am I so tall? I hate being tall sometimes! I feel so awkward. Well it's 10:45 PM! I'd better get to sleep . I've got to look beautiful for V tomorrow! I wish he'd notice me and say something. Anything I say turns into a wisecrack or an insult!

RATS! RATS! RATS!

February 17, 1997

A holiday for the kids, but not for me, though I get to meet some of my prospective students. That’s o.k. If I had a day “off” today, I’d still feel compelled to work, since I am a little behind now. But it is not so bad, really…I think I am doing quite well at paying attention to self, family, and the rest. I am neglecting my mother, though. Need to find time for her, too, if only for a phone conversation.

Why am I afraid of her? Is that it?

February 17, 2023

Would it make 1965 me happy to know that I wouldn’t always be so tall? According to my most recent checkup, I’m nearly average now. By February 17, I had developed a habit of hanging out where V might be - basketball games, especially - and sitting with a group of girls who knew him better than I did. If he came over to talk, there would be a little light banter between then and V. I would sort of join in, with my own special love language: sarcasm. RATS, RATS, RATS, indeed!

Fast forward to 1997. I notice a disturbing pattern. Many of my journal entries start off tame and even superficial, but towards the end, I drop into a more serious place, but just for a line or two. It rarely lasts longer, and I seldom  return to that thought. This revelation makes me uneasy. And I feel like doing it again, right now. So I did.