August 2021

August 23, 1968

This entry reminds me of a line from Annie Hall by Woody Allen – “I would never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member.” The quote has also been attributed to Groucho Marx and it crystalizes some Freudian concepts (according to something I read on the internet). While the quote isn’t mine, the idea it expresses resonates.

Wilcox 1967 Literary Screening Committee (School Magazine)

The moment I got kicked off the Wilcox literary magazine, I wanted to get back in. Once reinstalled, I lost interest. Cathy was right when she questioned my commitment, although she should’ve done it to my face. Wanting what I’ve lost (or can’t have) wreaked havoc with my adolescent love life. Nice guys who genuinely liked me got taken for granted; I obsessed about jerks who couldn’t care less. I identified with sad songs of unrequited love, not joyful tunes about finding my soulmate.

Wilcox Literary Magazine '68 — Wilcox Literary Magazine ’68

Sad lyrics still move me more than happy ones, but today I make better choices. That said, sometimes I still treat the people closest to me worse than I treat virtual strangers, whose approval I crave. Fortunately, the people I love – who love me back – are forgiving and understanding. They deserve my best and one of these days, they’ll get it.

August 20, 1964

My father remembered that night well. In the darkness of our tent, one by one he heard sniffles from the surrounding sleeping bags. Marion Voxland was the parish worker for Hope Lutheran, my father’s church. She took care of our pets while we were in Iowa. We had a Pekinese dog, Lady, and a cat, Princess, who recently had kittens. Abner was my kitten.

Joyce with Lady, Janet with Princess, me with Abner

These were our first pets because my parents, having grown up on Iowa farms, viewed cats and dogs as animals that belonged outside. Veterinary expenses for a pet were an unnecessary expense. Spaying and neutering wasn’t a thing yet, so canines and felines (like Princess) were constantly over-populating. My parents weren’t cruel to cats or dogs. They just didn’t consider them people.

My sisters and I felt differently, and still do. Our pets are part of the family. Science might say different, but I attribute human thoughts and feelings to them. Jealousy, joy, disdain, outrage. I see these emotions and more in my pets.

"Go ahead - make my day." — “Go ahead – make my day.”

Over the years, my mother became a co-conspirator with my sisters and my efforts to welcome more animals into the house. Occasionally, she’d even drive us to the pound so we could visit them. My father couldn’t help getting attached to our pets, once he got to know them – which meant we all cried when one of them crossed the Rainbow Bridge.

August 16, 1980

Today's bride and groom — Today’s bride and groom

Watching another couple vow to share their lives forever on the fifth anniversary of the day I made that same promise to John caused me to reflect on exactly what that meant, five years down the line. (For the record, today’s groom was the soloist at our wedding.)

“Just the Way You Are” was an excellent choice for where John and I were in our marriage, then.

Here are a few of the lyrics with my commentary. Billy Joel wrote it for his first wife; they are long divorced.

The applicable lyrics are “unspoken passion – although I might not seem to care”. As the diary entry makes clear, “spoken passion” wasn’t the norm for John and me. On this anniversary, John admitted to being happier with me, lately. So, you could say that he “might not seem to care.”

John and I met six months before we wed and we didn’t know each other all that well. I had a baby early in his third year of law school, adding to the overall stress when he had to pass the bar. When we got married after his first year in law school, nobody thought we’d last a year. So, I think that qualifies as times of trouble.

These are the lines that matter and they’re as true today as they were on our fifth anniversary and the day we got married. We’re all looking for someone we can talk to – and I found that when I met John.

As of today, we’ve been married 46 years.

August 13, 1989

The Villa - Elizabeth Taylor's former digs were just down the beach — The Villa – Elizabeth Taylor’s former digs were just down the beach

It’s weird to read an entry like this when photographs of the same day tell a different story. Several explanations spring to mind.

I’m a born curmudgeon and complainer.
I suffered a hormonal imbalance.
It takes me a while to acclimate to new places.
I lost at bridge, which always puts me in a terrible mood.
No matter where I find myself, I want to be somewhere else.
All of the above.

In 1989, the answer was “all of the above.” In the ensuing decades, I’d like to think I’ve matured to the extent that I no longer yearn to be someplace else. On the contrary, I’m grateful to be exactly where I am right now.

Why did it take me so long to realize the benefits of living here and now, something most people don’t need to “learn” at all? I believe I was born this way. If you know anything about the enneagram, I identify as a #4 – people prone to melancholy nostalgia over a lost, idealized past. Not exactly the life of any party (that might be a #7).

You can’t get over being a #4 (or any other number) – we are all who we are. That doesn’t mean we can’t be a better version of ourselves.

In this case, believe the pictures – not my words.

August 10, 1969

My sisters and I with Alana in August '57 — My sisters and I with Alana in August ’57

Alana was my first best friend in Santa Clara. She lived about five houses away from me on Del Monte Street. Her family moved to San Diego in 1960 and we lost touch – for nine years.

Alana in the bg behind a very young Joyce

How on earth did we reconnect without the aid of FB or the internet? Probably the old-fashioned way – in person when her family passed through. As my diary details, she visited me at UCLA. In the mid-seventies, John and I had dinner with her and her husband. After that, we lost touch again. I don’t know when – I rarely realize it’s the last time I’ll see somebody until long after it’s happened.

Alana visiting me at UCLA - outside Sproul Hall — Alana visiting me at UCLA – outside Sproul Hall

I’d love to talk to Alana again. Maybe she’ll read this and reach out. If this post stirs thoughts of someone on the fringes of your own life – someone you haven’t seen or spoken to lately, even though you mean to – try to make time. I wish I had.

August 6, 1987

The TRUTH about Dolly is - As kind and pleasant as Dolly appears in public – she’s KINDER and MORE STUNNING in person. — The TRUTH about Dolly is – As kind and pleasant as Dolly appears in public – she’s KINDER and MORE STUNNING in person.

The reason Sam and I wound up at Dolly’s niece’s birthday party was that my sister Janet became very good friends with Dolly when she worked as an AD (Assistant Director) on a few of Dolly’s films (9 to 5, Rhinestone). Consequently, my family and I have had the privilege of interacting with Dolly on multiple occasions during the past few decades.

This episode in my diary illustrates this perfectly. Dolly, as host of this party, probably had a million things on her mind, yet she noticed a little girl’s tears and dried them by reaching out in a way that didn’t embarrass or hurt anyone (since the real birthday girl was too young to know it).

This degree of empathy would be impressive in any human being. In a star of Dolly Parton’s magnitude, it’s astonishing. I’ve met my share of celebrities and can truly attest that Dolly Parton is one of a kind – in the best possible way.

I wasn’t at this party, my sister Janet took the kids. When she got up to take photos, Dolly took her place and started to feed Alex. His and her expressions in response are priceless.

Dolly taking over for Janet and helping Alex — Dolly taking over for Janet and feeding Alex

August 2, 2004

Friends forever - Chris Varaste and I — Friends forever – Chris Varaste and I

Looking back, I realize Chris was correct – I handed him a sheaf of shapeless unedited diary entries. Not only did they lack a story, they didn’t have a point. The only reason Joyce and I weren’t bored witless was we were in the cast of characters. This was neither the first nor the only time I resisted negative feedback only to recognize its wisdom later.

My friend of at least two decades, Chris Varaste, with my dog Nicky

When readers fail to rhapsodize over my first draft – which has happened exactly never – my first reaction is, at best, defensive. Sometimes, I’m downright hostile. That’s one of the reasons friends like Chris are so valuable. They’re not afraid to tell me the truth because they know that after my ego settles down, we’ll still be speaking.

No writer enjoys criticism, but I’ve come to realize it’s a gift. Some people can’t accept it. If I recognize them, I tell them their first draft is perfect. Taking the time to analyze the strengths and weaknesses in someone else’s work is a sign of respect – even though it doesn’t feel like that when I’m on the receiving end.

August 2021

August 23, 1968

August 20, 1964

August 16, 1980

August 13, 1989

August 10, 1969

August 6, 1987

August 2, 2004

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