Home
Diaries are Grrreat!
Subscribe!
I’ve been having a nostalgia spell lately, so the a few hours ago I brought out my hatbox full of “memories”. In this hatbox, I keep my journals, old love notes, poems and stories I’ve written, and little special (and sometimes odd) momentos I’ve treasured throughout the years (such as the program from my junior prom and the bar of soap from my Granny’s sink that I snuck out after she passed away).
But the most important things in my hatbox are my journals.
Outside of reading, writing has always been a favorite passtime of mine. I’m definately not the best at writing, and I speal thengs wierd sometimes 
but putting my thoughts on paper (or on computer screen) provides me with a terrific emotional outlet. It helps me organize my thoughts, figure out who I really am, and records a moment in time that I can re-read at a later date. Journal writing is even better than public writing, because you’re not worried about someone else reading it. When there’s no one to criticize or judge you, free writing guides your own personal human growth and development. It deepens your understanding of the human language, calms your emotions, shows you who you are, and (most importantly) shows you where you’ve been. It also gives your memories substance, and provides you the reassurance that while one day, even though your brain may not functionally remember something, the written ink will provide the memories - just as fresh as they were you put them to paper. Isn’t that what we need in this “here today, gone tomorrow world that we’re living in”?
When I was a younger, I kept a diary very regularly. In fact, I started my first one in 1989 when I was around 6 years old. I wrote in it from 1989 up through 1991. Unlike my later diaries, back then, one to two sentences compromised my entire day’s events!
One entry from my first little green locking journal is dated March 12, 1990 and reads (quote) “ToDay I Hade show and tail and I toad about my pople”.
Did you understand that? :) Let me translate. For me, this little diary entry brings back the exact memory of what happened that day - I was in 1st grade and it was Show and Tell Day. My favorite toy at the time was my little purple popple (kinda like the one pictured here). Popples were all the rage for kids in the late 80s / early 90s. It was just a little weird stuffed round animal (sort of a combo between a Fraggle and a Carebear) that had a built on pouch on his back that you “rolled” him into a ball with. I remember standing up front of the class telling about how my daddy bought him for me and he was the neatest little stuffed friend in the world. I then proceeded to show how he ”popped” in and out of his pouch (to the oooohhhhs and ahhhhhhsss of my classmates). Isn’t it great to be 7 years old?
The following day, March 13, 1990, includes this entry:
“Today I went to the Libearie and we heard the Whizeard of Oz and Snow White.”
Now, I really have absolutely no memory of this one, but I assume it refers to a “Library” day in 1st grade that I really enjoyed. It’s nice to have a record of things my mind has forgotten through the years! Many wonderful memories are recorded in that little green book - most are just hilariously funny (a 7 year old’s diary is always funny), but some record dates that would become important in later years (such as when I wrote “Today, my butiful cousin carrie met robbie”. Little did I know, Robbie and Carrie would end up married, with 4 beautiful children (the oldest of whom turns 15 years old tomorrow!) who I’ve had the pleasure of watching grow up before my very eyes.
In December of 1991 (I had just turned 9), my mom’s boss Irene gave me a really thick, cute kitty cat locking diary for Christmas. My first entry in it was December 19, 1991 and read:
“Today was the last day of school. Today I got a new pair of shoes. Today I saw my Christmas presents because I was plundering in dad’s room.”
I remember that too! LOL I have a very vivid memory of sneaking in the closet and finding the bags of presents. As you’ll also see, my spelling had improved somewhat.
That particular diary records my life’s happenings from when I was 9 years old until I was 14, with the final entry in it being Saturday, February 15, 1997.
Once in a while, I’ll pull out that little kitty diary and flip through it. It’s amazing to see the “transformation” and “growing up” that is evident on the pages. In the beginning, entries are done mostly in different colored pens (I loved the 5-in-1 different colored ink clickpens that were popular then). They’re very short (3-4 lines), spelling is bad, and topics focus mostly on a few big events of the day - with little details. Sometime around 1993, my writing style changed and I began to use cursive more, experimented with different hand writing techniques, and typically wrote in pencil or red ink. Entries towards the end are written in smaller letters, are much longer (2-3 pages per entry) and give more details of things that happen in the day (along with my feelings about them). Rereading these entries keeps me grounded when I am around today’s children, and when I am interacting with my own little girl cousins who are now all between 9 years and 15 years! Sometimes, as we age, we tend to forget just how much “kids” think and what exactly they “think” about. Sometimes, we take for granted that they even do think - and find ourselves shocked when something extraordinary comes popping out of their mouths. The diaries I have remind me of what it was really like to be a kid all those years ago.
Back then, I had no idea how important those earlier diaries would become to me! Those childhood years have long since passed (19 years since I started writing in my little green diary) - and it’s getting to the point where my memories of those days before teenhood set in are slowly fading into the background of my grey matter. Rereading those words, put to paper so very very long ago, brings images back in full force.
One entry, written on August 12, 1992 (I was 2 months shy of turning 10 years old) says:
“Dear Diary, Today was very wet. It raind allmost alday and I made it to world 6 in Mareo Brothers 3 without useing game geinie or the whistle.”
Remember the first nintendo (NES) and the popular game “Mario Bros. 3″? I was fascinated with it. My dad and I would spend hours, far into the night, trying to beat it and conquer each world. That was in the days before memory cards existed - one little accidental touch of the power button would reset the whole game! Those special moments, spent with my dad, will forever hold a special place in my heart. It was something fun we did together - and were wonderful to me as a kid because my dad got down on “my level” and enjoyed playing with me.
Anyway, after finishing the kitty cat diary, I was 14, in the midst of puberty, and thus started my journaling in full force. From age 14 to 18, I filled 6-7 good sized journal books! Sometimes I even “named” my journals so it felt like I was actually talking to someone. I had a cherub covered one once named “Angel” and a marble composition book that I named Mar’c. (Get it?)
I dealt with depression a lot during adolescence, with 8th grade being the absolute worst. Nowadays, they’d probably put me on some pill - but back in the ’90s, if you weren’t prone to acting out (I was a very quiet, shy girl), then a teen just had to deal with things on their own. And journaling did that for me. It helped me “deal” with life. It’s funny to look back and read about things that would “set off” a depressed mood. They were usually just minor things, such as not being able to find a favorite hair brush (which, in turn meant my hair wouldn’t look right, which in turn played into my insecurities and how much I hated my looks). I also get a kick about reading all the different crushes I went through, and the little spats friends and I would have over silly things. I’m also glad that I took the time to record so many details about the first time I fell in love (end of 9th grade) and all of those experiences with him. Those written memories became permanently important to me after the one special guy I had fallen in love with was later killed in a motorcycle accident a few weeks after my Junior year had ended. (June 2000).
One day, I plan on passing these journals along to my own daughter (if I am ever blessed with one!). I also plan on encouraging my children to record their thoughts on paper as much as possible. Homeschooling is a huge possibility in our future, so maybe I’ll be able to influence them enough to want to write as much as I did as a child. Who knows….perhaps one day a child of mine will write their own novel. That’s an undertaking I’ve never quite managed to succeed at.
What Next?
Don't be shy...Leave a comment!
Leave a Reply
