Diaries - Then and Now
Wed., February 13, 09:08 AM
My first diary emerged from a high school study hall where I had nothing to do. It was written on three-hole lined paper, the same kind on which we did our homework. Its greatest advantage was flexibility. Not only did I not have to fit everything into a small box printed for the day, but there was no gaping hole when I happened to skip a day. (Not every day is memorable, unless you're Lady Bird Johnson.)
I switched into more permanent media, like composition books, when I lost a few of the loose pages. When they mysteriously reappeared in my locker, I was torn between relief that I had them back and distress that I hadn't lost them accidentally. (Only the person who took them would have known where to return them.)
I maintained that journal for years, sometimes writing daily and sometimes ignoring it for weeks. I often wrote in German or Russian script, and later in shorthand; that meant I'd never have someone reading over my shoulder. When I was in the mood to "talk," there was never enough time to do it.
That briefcase of notebooks still exists, and I would destroy it if I could get to it. (Buried beneath years of junk.) On the other hand, parts of it turn out to be very interesting. Rereading my criteria for a husband ten years later, I was astonished to find a description of my fiancé, who was and is completely different from the men I had dated in-between.
When I got married and temporarily stopped working, I thought that at last I would be able to write whenever I wanted to. Instead, I didn't want to. Oh, sure, I still wrote letters, but when I felt like voicing my opinions, I had a husband who would listen. (At least, he seemed to be listening; sometimes I wonder if he heard a word I said.)
For the next thirty years or so, I didn't keep any kind of journal at all. My urge to write found an outlet in letters, interoffice memos and reports, and the occasional letter to the editor. (Some of those editorial opinions were printed and may yet be revised to live again.)
When I began writing essays again, it was often my children who were most impressed. All of them encouraged me, and a couple of them even published my work within their websites. One daughter steered me to Diaryland, which seems to fit my purposes nicely. I write whenever I can. I don't lose the papers or even the files. Others can read it whenever they like, and if they don't like, well, that's okay too. Good job, Diaryland.
