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Please forgive the delay again in my postings. I’ve been in the process of cataloging all my diary and letter collection and it’s a huge process but I’m loving it. I purchased two large safes, which holds about half of what I have. Heading now on a family vacation for a few days and hope to post a passage when I get back. Hope you’re all having a fabulous summer.

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Summer Cataloging

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(Sally here: Well, It’s been a while hasn’t since my last entry. I keep saying I’m going to get better but this new adventure of mine is keeping me pretty busy. Part of this adventure that I’m embarking on is that I’m in the process of reading, researching and cataloging all the diaries in my private collection; no easy task but I’m having so much fun doing so. BUT, I’m not giving up on my blogs and hopefully this new project of mine will enable me to share more and more diaries. I appreciate all your patience with me. Sal)

10:20 P.M. November 12th,1927

It is only Sat. night again. It is much colder. Winter will soon be here. To what end does man finally come? It is always puzzling to me. I want to know, so I must want to die. Man can find the answer no other way. And yet I shall always seek so long as life remains. I work hard; I am always busy; it does not tire me greatly only at times, but it brings not the relief or peace of mind which means rest. I am a devil indeed. Tomorrow I can take so many lovely chrysanthemums to Greenwood. She always loved flowers, they shall not be wanting to beautiful her little plot so long as I am able to make the trip to Ft. Worth. If I was not here there would be no flowers for her. Some day I’ll be resting too. Perhaps then we may chase the moon together. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 10:35 P.M.”

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9:30 P.M. November 11th, One more day is gone, that seems my only consolation in the evening when bedtime comes. They are all so very much alike, one more or one less does not seem to be treasured. I am thankful if they have been spent as I want them to be; I am remorseful if they bring some urge or action that is not always good. And so the days come and go, some are good and some are bad. This is Armistice Day. Memories of many things it brings to mind. How different it is from that of nine years ago. Joy and hope which mounted to the highest pinnacles of mans desire then throbbed within me. Now I am only silent. Nothing can ever revive the spirit that once prevailed. It is dead. I want to sail with the silver clouds or climb near the moon; to be away from living things and talk to the stars. I am very odd. “Ilya toyed skiusya.” 9:50 P.M.”

(Sally here: WOW. John you are NOT odd and if you are you are in the greatest sense of the word. You are a poet, you are an amazing writer and I don’t even know if you knew that…… “Joy and hope which mounted to the highest pinnacles of mans desire then throbbed within me. Now I am only silent.” AMAZING)

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WHAT YOU WILL

I’m finally back from Texas. It was such an amazing trip (way too much to express here) so again I’ve picked up my own diary to write about my experiences. I’ve read thousands of diaries in my lifetime and figuring out “why” people write in their diary is one of the most fascinating aspect of reading other peoples diaries. As for me, I write to get things out of my head and off my heart, but of course that never works; somethings will always stay with you regardless of how wonderful or how painful….yet I still write.

And with all that said, I want to introduce you to Dorothy. I just found this diary a few months ago and this, her 1st passage, is so surreal. Her last words just blew me away, it was if she was talking to me……me a “girl of this century”

WHAT YOU WILL”

DorothySept. 13, 1919. A great many people have advised me to keep a journal saying that if one keeps a journal he will be more likely to find interesting events going on around him, so I, Dorthy, am going to keep this one. I am twelve, thirteen next month. I’m in my first year of High now and hope to be the rest of this year. I have a father and mother and a brother. Also a dear friend whose name is Sara Louise Spear. I met her at Hampton Beach where our family stays summers. She is a dear and I surely do love her. My best friend here at home is Marion Hansome now. I really like her very much although our friendship now is a bit strained. I’ve read so many books about other girls who kept diaries years ago who had them and then girls of this century found them. I would like nothing better than to have this book found and read after I am gone. I hope if such happens that the people who find it think it interesting.”

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John’s Birthday

11:15 P.M. November 10th, Today is my birthday. Perhaps I shall never see another. It seems impossible for me to live on and on; life is so empty. I can only try to keep it busy. Cora and Bethine try to do so much for me. I am grateful to them but I do not in the least express my devotion to them. I do not want to be loved any more; I guess I am not worth it. Dittos were over for dinner and the evening. It is a wonder any one would come to see me. I am so cold and mean. But I want to be alone; that is all I ask. Memory has not failed me yet; the past holds more than the future promises. I have her picture by me now; it is never far away. I don’t see why she can’t be with me tonight. Oh! God, I am so useless. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:30 P.M.”

(Sally here: John seems a bit more depressed (if that can even be the case) than usual. The poor poor man. It will get better John, I promise. Coming out of my own darkness from losing my husband (nearly 8 years ago now) I know that life does get better. I just recently moved to a completely different state. Moved out of my house that I lived in for 23 years. The house my husband spent his last days in. And I must say that this move did so much for me; more than I could even express here. It was like coming out of the darkness and into the light, even tho that may sound a bit cliche. I could have made this move a lot sooner but it wasn’t time yet. This timing was perfect and I am happy. And because I have two later diaries of John’s, I know how things turn out for him and I hope to share those also.)

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Separation

11:00 P.M. November 9th, 1927.

Only another day gone by, much as the one before. I am tired but my head does not seem to bother so much tonight, or at least I have not noticed it because I have been busy. Nothing in life leaves as deep an impression on our interpretation of living as our own experiences. If we were only willing to heed the lessons learned by others we might avoid some of our mistakes but we seldom realized their full meaning until our own efforts, or actions, prove their correctness. Then it is often too late and we are left to our own bitterness. A friend and his wife have separated, a four year old daughter now faces life without the full parental love which is her due. What would I not give for the privilege to enjoy the blessings which they might make for themselves? Life is very odd. “Ilya toyed skuisya.” 11:20 P.M.”

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