The Keys to my Diary ~ Fern

Tuesday, March 17th

It's my birthday! Okay, that isn't nearly as thrilling as it was 15 years ago, but it's still somewhat exciting. At least I no longer get pinched if I'm not wearing an abundance of kelly green. A St. Patty's Day birthday kind of limits your special-day outfit choices in your youth. I remember one year, in particular, when Grandma gave me a beautiful, pink, frilly dress to wear to my birthday party. Mean Jimmy (as I used to call him) pinched me hard on the arm, and that started a barrage of pinching from my so-called friends. I ended up hiding in the bathroom for a good portion of my party. I must have forgiven Mean Jimmy because less than ten years later, I started calling him James, and I let him slide into third base with me in the back of his souped-up, cherry-red Mustang. How's that for not holding a grudge?

What am I thinking? That's no way to start this year's diary. I haven't even introduced myself. What if some handsome stranger finds this book several years from now and wants to track me down? I'm sure I'd be happy to meet you, Big Fella. <Wink, Wink>

My name is Fern Burns. Yes, I am well aware that it's a ridiculous name. Anyone who has met my scatter-brained, flighty mother gets it. Mean Jimmy had his fair share of fun chanting my silly, rhyming name, as well. 'Fern Burns never learns' or 'Fern Burns makes my stomach churn.' Thinking back on it now, I'm amazed that I was able to forgive him so quickly. That must be part of the magic of youth. Now, I would probably hold a grudge and plot diabolical revenge against him.

Since my middle name is Mable, it's not really much help in cutting the unusual factor down in my name. Sometimes I throw the 'M' in when I state my name aloud, hoping that I'll be taken more seriously. I don't think it helps very much.

I have kept journals of my day-to-day life since I was 12-years-old. On my 12th birthday, my grandma gave me a beautiful, sequined diary that locked. In one of my mother's few serious moments, she told me that I shouldn't write anything down that I didn't want the whole world to see. Being a rebellious pre-teen, I started writing everything down in my new journal, mostly because my mom thought it was a bad idea.

I've started a new diary on my birthday every year since then. The quantity of past diaries is becoming embarrassingly large. I keep them in my squatty, fireproof safe because my memories are pretty much all that I have of value, except for some savings bonds that I received for my high school graduation, which are tucked away in the safe as well.

Occasionally, I like to read back through my past journals. It's amazing how much has slipped my mind. Without my written record to remind me, so much would be completely forgotten. It's not just the actual events, but also how I felt about them—my ideas, dreams, and fears at various stages of my life. Besides, when I become famous, these works will be worth big bucks. LOL.

Anyway, writing in journals has become an ingrained habit for me. Sometimes things don't seem real until I've written them down. It's like talking to my very best friend. So, I'll detail a year of my life in here. Most likely, no one else will ever read it; but if you do, I hope it brings you joy, or at least minor amusement. My life is a bit of a train wreck right now; so if nothing else, it will likely make you feel better about your own life.

Let's see, I'll start with the good. I live in beautiful Key Largo in the Florida Keys. It is sunny and gorgeous here the vast majority of the time. Our little island is surrounded by some of the most crystal clear, turquoise-blue water I've ever seen. Scuba divers come from all over the world to check out the coral reefs that are teeming with marine life just off the coast. Since I don't work for the Florida Keys tourism board, I'll also mention that the humidity sometimes feels like being wrapped in a warm, wet blanket, and we have mosquitos that are the size of small birds. For the most part, though, the good outweighs the bad, and I like the idea of living here.