Thoughts of a 60s teen

Chapter 2

September 4, 1966

Dear Journal,

I'm thinking that I'm going to have to come up with a name for you at some point...I don't know, writing to a journal and just saying 'Dear Journal' sounds kind of cold but then again giving a book a name sounds kind of silly. School starts up on Tuesday and I'm happy to be getting back into a routine after a summer of going to the beach, watching Jennifer, and not doing much else. I am also the owner of a pair of bell bottoms! They are navy blue and they go perfect with my yellow top, I really wish I could where it to school, but like I said before my school has a strict dress code no jeans for anyone. Girls have to have skirts and boys have to have slacks. Girls can't even have slacks in the winter and that sucks because it gets freezing cold waiting at the bus stop for the bus to come. I can't wait until I get my driver's license, then maybe mom will let me take the car to school some days in the winter, or better yet...mom and dad will get me a car for my birthday, t's only five months away in February. Dad wasn't home tonight for supper, he's working this whole weekend at the hospital so hopefully we'll see him when we get home from school on Tuesday.

Mom came into my bedroom just now and said that it looks like a tornado hit it and I need to clean it up, I'll take that as a suggestion until she threatens to take away my records and no hanging out until I do, what she doesn't know is that I know where she put my records so I can just take them while she is out of the house and listen to them...as long as I put them back before she gets home I'm alright.

We are still on the heels of August weather wise, so I'm still in shorts and short sleeved shirts until school.

Not much else to say.

Susan.

September 6, 1966

Dear Journal,

Tonight after my homework, yes the teachers assigned homework on the first day of classes. Guess they thought we had enough of a brake over the summer.

Anthony is in my English class this year and we have the same lunch. Gods, I really like him. I won't say that I love him because love is a pretty strong word to just toss around, but I strongly like him. He's kind of tall with light brown hair. I don't really know what colour his eyes are because to be honest I never gave it much thought, anyway.

Tonight there was talk about the war in Vietnam on the news but as soon as the newscaster started talking about it mom changed the channel, she doesn't want Jen to know about the war. I think mom hopes that if she keeps the news about the war out of the house then we can still go on living in a little bubble of happiness. Nice idea, but it won't work, mainly because I think that the happy little bubble that we had popped the day John F. Kennedy died. God, that was horrible. I was thirteen years old and was sitting in math class when Mr. Rollins, the phy ed teacher came in and whispered something to Miss. Hearn and then Miss. Hearn started crying and told us that class was dismissed for the day and the school was closing. James asked what was going on and she said that the President had been shot. Claus asked what President and Miss Hearn started crying harder and Mr. Rollins snapped at him and said the President of the United States and to pack our bags and ether get on the bus to go home or wait until our parents could come and get us if we walked home. I walked down to the office with Brian and while we were waiting we over heard a secretary saying to another that Russia was sure to invade now. When she found out that we were listening she went quiet into the principal's office and shut the door. Mom came and got us from school and we all rode home in silence. That is the only time I can ever remember the TV and radio being on all day and all night as we waited for an update on Kennedy. I remember mom tucking us into bed and telling us that everything would be alright in the morning but when I woke up Mom was at the kitchen table crying and she said that President Kennedy was dead.

I don't want to write anymore right now.

Susan.