Inspired by Bekah Havens‘ highly personal, tortured-teen-girl and, well, plaid diary readings, but with no diary of my own at hand, I present you this week …
in 1955.
As written by my grandmother, Olive Jane Poe Whitmore.
I identify with Bekah’s journal entries. They could almost be mine. We graduated high school in the same year, Miss B and I. We began college the same year. We put ourselves through similar turmoil, and wrote about it with similar alternating sarcastic humor and raw emotion. Our choices were many and difficult.
Grandma lived in simpler times. There was never much question about her choices. She dated one guy before my grandpa, but married grandpa, who was the love of her life. She didn’t have sex before marriage. And her writing is more a record of inevitable events than a tortured exploration of possible life paths.
I find that really interesting.
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wow!
Old Timey Twitter. Funny that she doesn’t express much ( or any) feeling about what she did. Just her to do list after it was “to done.” Oh, Grandmothers.
fascinating. the interesting question is WHY did she keep a diary? the potential for more personal expression at some point? a reflection confirming the reality of her life?
I’m obsessed with people marking their lives, with words, images, tattoos, whatever it may be, and in some ways it’s more interesting when these markings are so simple, so devoid of the kind of self or other analysis/pondering/questioning many of us take for granted.
a more zen analysis of her diary would probably be: what more is there to consider? chop wood, carry water, iron, buy tile, make sandwich.
and then: Pooped!
I would so love to have read ANYTHING from the journals of my grandparents (not that they ever, to my knowledge, kept anything of the sort). No record of them other than image and parental recollection. All four of them were dead by the time I was born.
The mundane rote of routine and chores are the mirror she holds up. We then all become Alice trying to look through – to see more. And, as we know, there’s always more. So the mind imagines…
I’m finding this whole diary reading subject fascinating. You’ve taken it in a different direction. Great stuff.
Oh, and loving the sepia tone!
I’d give anything to have access to my Nana’s diary! Anything! 1955, how wild. Or, not that wild. “Went grocery shopping. Exchanged blue tile for peach. No mail.” might be the best diary entry of all time. I love hearing the journey of the bathroom and how pooped (underline underline) she was when she was done! Just the facts, Ma’am.
Fascinating. You and I grew up in such a different era. We were tortured and emotional and we said so, dammit! Funny, I’ve read through my journals and thought “oh, enough already about how you feeeeel. What did you DO that day!?”
This is awesome. I’m so glad you read this. I know it wasn’t easy for you.
“Looked at the wrong one.”
Love it.
This was wonderful! Thanks for sharing this. I agree, like an ol’ time Twitter log! My favorite log was POOPed – underlined twice. The best!
well cheryl you may not “tweet” from the toliet, but I guess your grandma would!