A Peek Inside My Diary at 15
Cue the mortification -- and I mean CUE IT NOW.
I dug out my diary from 1983 tonight. I was looking to confirm some memories for my memoir-in-progress, but ended up taking an unexpected detour.
In the summer of 1983, I was 15 years old, and in those days, I always ended my daily journal entries with an upbeat, confidence-boosting, you-go-get-em-Tiger kind of phrasing. No matter how tough my day might have been, I tried to add a little bit of jazzy, you’ve-got-this-girl kind of OOMPH before turning out the light.
For example,
July 11, 1983:
Today is [my younger sister] Beth’s birthday! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU, BETH!
Whenever I write in my diary, I always imagine someone reading it years from now, like Anne Frank! That’s why I never try to put swears in here!! (Just thought I’d let you know).
Today I babysat from 8:30am till 4:00pm (10 bucks!).
Then, I went to practice and sweated my head off! [I was on the pom-pon squad]
Keith said Great America was off for tomorrow, but I begged him to ask his cousin [for a ride], so we’re going! I can’t wait!
I talked to [Friend #1] — I love her!
[Friend #2] is a pea brain.I got some new clothes [for our upcoming family vacation].
California, here we come!SMILE for your baby! I love KEITH!
Um, did I actually say Anne Frank????? I mean, ANNE FRANK??
Oh my God. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. NO. Just no. Make it stop now. Please.
Granted, I’d recently read The Diary of a Young Girl, so Anne Frank was clearly on my mind. She’d been 15 when she died of typhus fever — the same age I was at the time of that entry.
But STILL… I was a catholic kid from the northwest suburbs of Chicago living free from persecution. I had a frickin’ in-ground swimming pool in my backyard — and loads of cultural sensitivity yet to be acquired. I was NOTHING like Anne Frank. NOTHING.
Yes, we were both 15-year-old diarists, but that’s where any comparison with Anne Frank ends. Full stop.
Unless, I suppose, you consider the fact that Anne Frank and I both wrote in our journals about our bodies and boys — which I most certainly did in my next entry.
July 12, 1983
Well, today was really a landmark in my life! I went to Great America with Julie, Keith, and Bruce. I had the best time of my life! We laughed and screamed and had a wonderful time! Keith and I held hands everywhere and kissed or gave each other “looks” every chance we got. Then, we waited for Mrs. H. to pick us up.
[Just as Anne Frank covered up portions of her entries, I’ll leave out the details of our car ride home. Trust me when I say it wasn’t anything crazy, especially since Julie and Bruce were right next to us — and Mrs. H. was behind the wheel].
SMILE AND KEEP UP YOUR CONFIDENCE!!!!
Funny thing is, I didn’t go looking for any of these memories tonight. They showed up in black and white on the pages of my then-15-year-old diary, and as cringey as some of those passages were, they’re an authentic snapshot of who I was at the time.
I’m sorry to share that Keith passed away, at 51, in 2019.
We lost touch after high school, but I never forgot how genuine, kind, funny, and adorable Keith was. I’m lucky I’d spent a little bit of time in his wonderful orbit.
In another diary entry, I noted how Keith and I once shared a piece of gum, passing it back and forth between our mouths. OMG. As I type this, I laugh more than I cringe when thinking about that exchange. We were kids — young and innocent — laughing our heads off, being goofballs, acting our age, having a good time, figuring out who we were and how to navigate our teenage years. It was Hubba Bubba, by the way. Just thought I’d let you know.
I’m grateful I got to spend a little slice of my life with Keith. He and his family were such a delight to know, and from everything I’ve heard, he went on to become an incredible husband, father, friend, and co-worker. If Keith’s family members ever stumble across this, I hope they smile when they see those photos of 15-year-old Keith — and know that he was a gentleman, even at 15.
I’m so glad I took this special, unexpected detour down memory lane tonight. As mortifying as some of those diary entries are to read, it’s been a treat revisiting some of the happiest times of my young life.
Did you keep a diary when you were young? If not, what do you most wish you’d documented? And if so, when’s the last time you went through it? Did anything surprise you? Did you cringe? Laugh? Both? What surprises you most about the person you used to be?
Writing offers many blessings. One is the ability to look back and hear ourselves in a different stage.
I woke up this morning thinking, “I am changing.” I know we are always changing, but I don’t recall ever being so conscious of it. It’s a bit unsettling to me. I think it’s part of getting older and gaining awareness (and wisdom).
When I read my old journals and cringe, I switch to “mom mode” and love myself as I would my own child if I had one, unconditionally.
Love wins.
Thank you for sharing this. ❤️
Forget being mortified - what I want to know was did you ride the American Eagle and did you stand in line for an extra 2 hours to get a seat in the front row? Some of the best moments of my life happened at Great America. I now live 10 minutes from Six Flags of Georgia and it's just not the same.
With love from your fellow Chicago suburbanite