|MMH - 14 years old and a freshman in high school.|
Having been the youngest in any group for most of my early life, I am now the oldest at many gatherings. This was at first a heady experience, a sort of 'turn the tables', but now my aging body and lower levels of energy have truly kicked in and I must parcel my time carefully. There is no longer any second wind, or an evening shift. I feel most like my familiar self in the mornings and then I fade off into someone else in the afternoon. Evenings are a crap shoot.
Thing is, I am still bursting with ideas that beg to be orchestrated. Most mornings around 9:00 a.m., I am confident that I can bring selected projects to fruition. I work diligently, but zest and alacrity are short-lived. Even so, I am plugging away on an immense project and I have changed the way I think about it in an effort to gain control of it, push it forward. I once called this immense project a memoir, but after reading the work of several older writers, I realized that what I write best are personal essays. Its a form I've used comfortably since junior high school.
|Our louvered porch at Bung 463. Note the record player on the table next to the lamp.|
|Gramma Della visited for the winter in 1956. Here she is with Kitty across the street from|
our house. See the tank farm in the background and in the foreground Slim's garage.
|Ready for my first New Year's Dance in 1956. Date was Cliff Chapman.|
|Mom and Dad were going to a New Year's Eve Dance too. Mom made herself a|
pink taffeta formal. She made my very first formal too in white taffeta and tulle.
|John is not going to a New Year's Dance. He's pretty cute, but I write that he could be a pest.|
|I took this photo of Joanne with hibiscus over her ear. We borrowed one of|
her mom's alter tops so we'd have a tropical look. Spring 1956.
|Joanne took this photo of me with hibiscus over my ear. I wrote about|
this photo shoot in my diary. We'd never taken photos like these.