Zombie Diaries


Well: not to burst your bubble, but I hate this diary; it’s soon going right back in the dusty box.  It’s mostly travelogue, and anything that does pique my interest turns my stomach.

I’m having a hard time reconciling any profit in regaling you with stories of the walking dead.  From this vantage point, zombies aren’t capable of accomplishing anything.  Case in point:

—- The Very First Entry (Jan. 1, 1974): “Today our family spent New Year’s at [Person A’s].  [Person B] was a #&*@!  That’s the last time [Person C] will ask to go over there.  Well, it is a holiday.”

—- Very Last Entry (four years later): [Worse; can’t type it.  These were definitely not “glory days.”]

In 1974, I was unhappy with [X]; In 1975, I wasn’t.

In 1976, I was happy with [Y]; In 1977, I wasn’t.

And there were other characters on the periphery.  Not good, since I flew predominantly on auto-pilot.  If there’s anything I can say to that, it’s… “Thank You, Lord!!!”  (Forgive the multiple explanation points; I’ve been seeing a lot of those.)

Most entries revealed the mood of the day; it was either bored, cranky, vulgar snip — or energetic, super-enthusiastic, naïve lassie!  Nothing in-between.  And we’re not talking year-to-year; this was my teens, Ladies and Gentlemen.

Oh, and it seems I was sick a lot.

On the up-side, gasoline was 57 cents, and postage was 22.  And get this entry: “I made a blouse (81 cents).”  However, these numbers gain perspective with notes of my earnings from my weekly job cleaning a mansion: I took home less than 6 bucks.

‘Just sayin’.

Anyway, in spite of the dreaded dudes, daily dancing, and dumb dope, it was good to be reminded of a few positives: we took turns care-giving for our great-grandma Lillie and great-aunt Viola; and my mother did have my (albeit sassy) help with a variety of activities, including housework, gardening, ironing, even chair-caning.  And there was a period during my sophomore year when I was going to church.  I had forgotten that.

So yeah:  bye-bye bad little book.  There’s a reason I put you away for 30 years.

This entry was posted in Christianity, Keeping up Appearances, Mind Matters and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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