March 28, 1980 Friday

I"m 16.

First, here's a list of my space exploration ships.  For some reason, I like to think of different names for ships.  Certain words and names sound as if they are the names of ships

• Ethereum
• Dred Scott
• Armageddon
• Carthage
• Parthia
• Ragnorak
• Twilight
• Gotterdammerung
• Da Vinci
• Rubicon

Well, enough of that.  And now for something completely different.  It's....monty python's flying circus....

No, really, I want to be serious.  Tonight I went to Dairy Queen with Tim D.  In the booth in the back I saw Renee B.  With Lisa M.  I thought Renee was with Bill F., so I told Tim to pick a booth away from them.  Luckily he did, and she didn't see me.  Until she left, and then she said "hi" and I said "hi" back, etc.  As it turned out, Renee wasn't with Bill, and in fact it seemed is was just her and Lisa.  Of course you don't know who I'm talking about, so I'll fill you in.  Renee B. is in my BSCS (a biology class) and English classes.  I've grown quite fond of her.  Quite fond.  I don't know why, though.  Usually, when I think of the type of girl I would like to be with, I always want one who's smart.  Renee is not smart.  She just doesn't know a lot, and is rather average in intelligence.  She can also be quite silly and girlish at times, which annoys me.  When I try to explain black holes to her in detail (Kerr black holes) she sits there, blank.  And yet I'm attracted to her.  She does have her pluses.  She's pretty, though rather large-boned.  She has a friendly, warm personality.  And I feel quite comfortable around her, more comfortable and at ease around her then with any other girl that I've been fond of.  Around Renee I feel at ease enough that I might just ask her if she wants to be as close to me as I do with her.  I know she likes me.  She's always writing something on my locker at school, like "hi, sweetie," and "how's it going, babe?"  I might ask her out, but logistics are a problem.  She lives out in the country and I don't have my driver's license yet, and I haven't driven much.  Where there's a will, there's a way.

She hangs around Bill F.  Bill F. is a 100% jock wrestling team idiot.  

March 26, 1980

I'm 16.

How strange are people?  I ask this because a lot of friends and acquaintences can be characterized as weird.  Either people are weirder than I thought, or I attract oddballs.  Here is a list of my friends, and description:

• CR:  He's constantly harassed by people and is quite anti-social.
• TN: An academically smart kid, but also a goody-two-shoes spazz infantile.  When he's not acting like a 5 year old, he acts like a teen-age jerk.  A real pain sometimes.  Doesn't believe in evolution.
• Tim D.:  A throwback to the sixties.  Will end up as a hippie astrophysicist going to symposiums in tattered blue jeans.  Non-conformist, love to shock the suburbanites.  Pretty smart.
• Don M.: Describing all the past phases of Don would be too lengthy.  Saw a psychiatrist when he was a little kid.  Was once a perverted Larry Flynt disciple.  Until he found God.  Now he's in the Church of Christ, and is trying to convert Tim D. and I to his church.  He's such a pickly little strait-laced christian he's hard to tolerate.  Has a file box of biblical quotes.  He even gave me a copy of the new testament for my birthday.  God help us.
• Satish R. : Refer to my word list.

Trust me, I'm not exaggerating.  Now is everybody weird?  Or do I hang around weird people?  "Birds of a feather flock together."  

March 21, 1980

I'm 16.

Words from Satish R. and me in fifth period geometry

• Jorb
• Jorb divisible face
• Horatio Alger Waldo Winthrop Scooter Ham Natalie Cole
• Tardyon
• Jama
• Mika
• Naomi
• Nuriev
• Rohan
• Barley the Goat
• Romulus and Remus McVae
• The Jana sisters, Nancy and Melinda
• The missing Lardyo
• Joseph and the Mules
• Ah - Rock!
• Snipe!
• Ham
• Bartholomew and the three-headed yak
• The lead head
• The air head
• Baby Elephant unitarian
• Granny imitations
• Holly
• Lorry
• Just
• Brainiac
• Jorbithon
• Nephridium face

The words probably don't make much sense to you, but they have specific meanings in fifth period.  Just remember, whenever anyone says "ah," immediately say "rock!"  And to say "hi," move your open hand up and down, as if rubbing a wall.  To say "bye," push your hand away from you, open palm.

March 9, 1980

I'm 16.

It's been a while since I've written, hasn't it.  Actually, you shouldn't scold me for not writing all this time, for I have.  I wrote my 5 pages for February.  

Quite a bit has happened that I haven't written about.  In fact, I unfortunately tell  you very little of the events occurring around me.  I have a spotty record when it come to writing in here.

Lately I've been having strange dreams.  Somewhere in them some characters from M*A*S*H (the tv program) shows up.  I really don't know why.  It's probably because I've been seeing it more lately.  It's on for a whole hour on channel 50.  In my dream, I was sitting with dad and Colman in a small room.  There was a stereo in it and I was about to put in a cassette when I spotted this red book on the floor with a picture of a graying Alan Alda.  In the book it said that before starring in Mash, Alan Alda's name was Greer Garson.  He was supposedly a very strange and eccentric artist.  Strange and eccentric enough to warrant a book being written about him  and his eccentricity.  For some reason Greer changed his name to Alan Alda, had his gray hair turn black, and became an actor.  I showed this book to dad, who thought it was quite interesting.  Then I went out of the room to the outside, where it was night.  The night was almost normal except for one thing.  The stars looked like liquid blue spots surrounded by rings of orange.  The stars moved all over the sky and coagulated into a big mass.  I took my binoculars out and peered through them at the mass.  The stars were bright and big.  The moon was also very strange.  It was multi-colored and revolving in an orbit around the point of the sky directly above us.  It never sank below the horizon, but just revolved around the point, changing colors.

 

Feb. 21, 1980

I'm 16.

Science examines the house.  Philosophy looks at the foundation.  When both advance enough, they will meet and discover that they are looking at the same building.

February 1, 1980

Friday; I"m 16.

I think this month I will try to write something serious. I specify this month because every month I must churn out 5 typed pages of material per month. It's a pact Tim D. and I agreed upon. Every month, Tim and I have to compose 5 typewritten pages of orginal material, prose or poetry. In not doing so, a fine of $5 is invoked and must be paid to Don M. We started in the middle of last month, so for that month it was only 2 pages. This pact was created so Tim and I would have no excuse for not writing anything. We both like to write, and I think we both have some talent for writing, though in my case it may not be obvious to anyone just reading my journal.

I'm choosing to write serious this month, mainly because most of what I write is humorous. I have a reputation in my English class of always writing humorous works for my assignments. My humor lies on the side of Monty Python. Every time Mrs. Basich [later in the year she married and became Mrs. Idzak] announces a writing assignment, people wonder what I'm going to write. When we read works out loud, people usually ask to hear mine. I'll try and save some examples [I do have them now in 2008!]. Well, now that I'm finished boasting, I hae to think up something to write. Probably a short story. Right now, that's my favorite area to work in. that, and essays.

Well, it's getting late, so I'll be seeing you. Bye.

January 26, 1980

Saturday; I'm 16.

I'm at mom's now, in Cleveland. Joe is outside fixing a water pump in his car. Mom's taking a nap. I'm just lying here in front of one of those portable heaters, writing in my room. I ran out of ink, so I'm switching to back-up pencil.

January 24, 1980

Thursday; I'm 16.

Tim N. thinks I'm going to be a writer.  I tell him that I want to be an astrophysicist, but he's not convinced.  He's really sure that I'm going to be a writer.  I don't know if I have enough writing talent to live off of it.  I do believe that I have some talent for writing (from dad) but do I have enough?  I wouldn't mind being a writer.  It's never too far from my mind.  Tomorrow I'm going to visit mom and Joe in Cleveland.  They're living together.  I don't mind.  I hate what I"m doing now.  As I write this, I compose in my mind what I'm going to write.  Yet half of it never gets written down!  As Gordon Lightfoot says, "If you could read my mind" I've written a whole short story.  For english class.

January 13, 1980

Sunday; I'm 16.

As for the last entry, the frame of reference may change the effects.  I'll think about it and write again.  Now I want to discuss an exasperating problem.  My shyness with girls.  A problem Tim and I share, along with uncounted millions.  For me, I can talk to girls easily and get along with them, but when it comes to asking them out, it's exit Bob time!  I can never (except once on June 1, '79) get up the nerve to ask a girl out, no matter how much I desire to.  It's quite depressing thinking about what I've missed.  The only type of friendship I've known is the comeradarie type you have with your friends.  I've never had an intimate friendship with a girl.  I only went out with Cathy once.  It's not that I'm just into a girl's body, but I've just never known the type of relationship before.  And at times it drives me crazy.  But, cheer up, I'll find out eventually.

January 10, 1980

Thursday; I"m 16.

Now that I look, it's a wonder I'm still keeping a journal this long.  Before this, I had started journals about 4 times, each with one, or rarely, two entries.  But this journal has managed to survive.  It has stood against onslaughts of procrastination and blistering attacks of apathy.

Let's say that between the time it took to write the first word in this sentence time stopped.  Can you ask how long time stopped?  No, since if the duration of the time stopped could be measured, then that means that it began at a certain point and ended at a certain point in time.  There could be no time distance between the two points, since time has stopped.  Therefore the time stoppage would begin and end in the same  point in time.  Any time stoppage would have no duration, therefore time cannot completely stop.

January 8, 1980

Tuesday; I"m 16.

Around the beginning of December, my family, although not me, decided to give away Bonnie, our 13 year old cat. I was totally against it.  Jenny said it might carry toxoplasmosis, which would hurt the unborn child.  But now he's born.  I have a new half-brother, named Wyatt!  He was born Dec. --.

December 29, 1979

Sunday; I'm 16.

I'm writing in Cleveland, at my mom's house at 3922 St. Clair ave., rear.

It's been a while since I've written, and I have no excuse.  It seems that the longer one stays from a good habit, the harder it is to re-acquire.  

I must tell you (who am I referring to, the journal or the reader?  I don't know.) what happened on the nights (actually afternoon and early evening) of the 25th.  Tim D. and I were outside doing nothing in particular in his back yard.  I decided that it was National Walk Backwards Day, so we started walking backwards around the alley.  As we were walking backwards south down the alley, we talked of many nonsensical ideas.  Then I mentioned the importance of alleys in the scheme of the universe.  He disagreed.  We agreed for a bit about the importance of '56 Chevies, stickshifts, and '62 Fords, automatic.  Tim then decided that avenues were more important in the entire metaphysical structure of the universe.  There we squared off.  Me, a confirmed alleyite, and Tim, a devoted avenuist.  Both of us, confirmed and dedicated to nonexistent philosophies.  We stopped all other arguments on our backwards trek down the alley, and stuck on a discussion defending our philosophical views.  We brought the advantages and disadvantages of our philosophies, though in each other's mind our philosophies had no disadvantages.  

When we came to the end of the alley at Napoleon road, we made a right to Kenwood school.  As we crossed Kenwood Ave., I saw some people in a car stare at us as we debated and walked backwards.  We continued debating at the Kenwood playground, each of us continually bringing up new points about our own and the other's philosophy.  We were acting serious the whole time.  We swung around the school building, crossed Kenwood Ave., and walked up the small alley that crosses the big alley and goes straight to Main St.  As we walked along backwards, our once nonexistent philosophies emerged from our bantering.  Loud bantering.  I'm sure some people looked, saw two strange teenagers walking backwards and yelling about alleyism and avenuism, and hurriedly went to lock their doors.  We walked up to Main and again went south.  At times we yelled at each other, lamenting at the other person's obvious lack of intelligence.  We brought up new facts, argued old one and invented various ideas, authorities and quotations to back ourselves up.

As we again hit Napoleon, we decided to walk forwards again.  We walked all the way down to McDonalds, almost to Gypsy Lane, continually bringing up various aspects of our nonexistent philosophies and the association with our philosophies.  At McDonalds we turned around and headed back, getting deeper and deeper into each other's fictional beliefs.  I brought up the Avenuist Book Wars of 1967.  Tim brought up the old-fashionedness of alleyism.  We were devoted members of our philosophies at the beginning, but by the time we finally got back to Tim's house from Murphy's Mart we argued as if we were the leaders of the philosophical movements.  At his house we continued arguing until I had to leave at 5:30.  We spent about 3.5 hours walking backwards and debating nonsensical philosophies .

Alleyism:

According to Tim it's archaic, dictatorial in its membership structure, stoic, and belongs to the 15th century. By me it is old but flexible and modernistic enough to be true in any age.  It is not at all stoically inclined.  It can absorb new thoughts and digest them into Alleyism.  It offers the only hope for mankind.  It is unifed, and has a firm foundation.

Avenuism:

According to me:  a split off from alleyism, it is a drug induced fatalistically stoic and silly belief.  It leads to fatalism and engages its members in immorally wild orgies.  Its people are hopelessly fractured up into avenuists, boulevardists, streetites, and others.  According to Tim, it's a dynamic modern belief ready to replace the antiquitated Alleyism.  There are no orgies, it is not fatalistic, nor stoic, but is based on meditation and other weird stuff.

Chrsitmas at Mom's, 1979

December 8, 1979

Saturday; I"m 16.

I really want to get out of BG.  It's landscape, which is Euclidean in its flatness, is terribly boring.  Ah, much better.  Now I'm writing with a fountain tip pen.  Before it was ballpoint.  Fountain tip is much more fluid and graceful.  Much more expressive.  Well, back to what I was writing about.  I am getting restless.  I'm tired of the same old town.  I want to get out, explore and discover.  Luckily I'll get a head start.  I'm going to graduate early at the end of my junior year.  So in my senior year I'll be in college.  I'll be going to BGSU for my first and maybe second year.  Just long enough to get my basics.  Then I'll be off somewhere else.  I have to do this because of the area I'm going in: astrophysics.  I'll probably major in physics and minor in math.  

Tim D. is also quite restless.  More so, in fact.  He wants to get out of BG temporarily this summer.  He wants to go camping somewhere.  I probably got some of my restlessness from Tim.  Tim and I have been discussing some plans for future travel.  Next summer or perhaps the summer after, we want to go out west.  Preferably the northwest.  We are also looking for the colleges we want to go to.  Tim wants to go to Arizona state U., because 

A: an author of one of his astrophysics books came from there.

B:  he's got an uncle in Arizona.

C:  Kitt Peak observatory.

I don't know where I want to go.  Tim and I have been discussing the possibilities of going to the same college.  Then we could be roommates and study partners.  But I won't compromise on colleges.  If I find a college that I believe is better than one Tim likes, I'll go to my choice.

Winter 1979

Looks like we're at the Cleveland museum of art.  I remember that visit well.  And that red down jacket.  Mom always liked trench coats.  Cool.

December 3, 1979

Monday; I"m 16.

Back to my struggle.  Is there such a thing as a just war?  I don't  know.  It may be honorable to die defending your country, but look what it cost you.  You are honorably dead.  Perhaps I am being selfish in wanting to preserve my life.  But is not every single human life precious?  I do not think that it is being too selfish to want to live.  I value my life, and I can do a lot more good alive than dead.  And how can being destructive help others?  I know now for a fact that if the US was ever the attacker in a war, I would not fight.  Resorting to barbarism to solve problems is uncivilized. 

December 2, 1979

Sunday; I'm 16.

The Moonstruck man has been pre-empted by me.  For about the past week I have been in a mental struggle.  I have been pondering on this thought:  if there is a war, and the draft is reinstated, would I fight if drafted, or run?  Tim D. said he would go to Canada.  Allen B. said that too, according to Tim.  I'm not yet positive if I would or not.  I abhor war, and considering how many have been fought on this planet, I believe that fighting never solves anything.  Any and every conflict can be solved without force.  Wars are futile.  If you are the would-be attacker, this is true.  But what about fighting in self-defense?  Should not America fight  back if attacked?  Or any other nation.  Does any institution deserve mine, or anybody's life?  Should I place principles above my existence?

winter 1979

I think this is in front of the Cleveland museum of art, winter 1979.  The statue is a copy of Rodin's Thinking Man that was damaged by a bomb in the 60s -- student protests.  They kept the damage as a historical artifact.

November 19, 1979

Monday; I"m 16.

I'm the moonstruck man.  I alone know the answers.  I flirt with death and dance with the unknown.  In the shadows I lie waiting for my victim.  I am Thoth, the god of wisdom, learning, and magic.  In my cave on the side of a mountain I ominously weave the future.  Other people avoid me, for they know I carry with me the macabre.  I lurk in their midst, knowing their lies, seeing the truth.  They shun me, but I do not care.  My spirits are with me.  We come together, before the end.  To celebrate the demise of my tormentors.  Yes, the tormentors.  How long they have searched for me.  The days that I have spent running in the voids, pursued unceasingly.  The hours unending, my mind tortured by their existence.  The inner fabric of my soul, ripped and strewn asunder.  Trampled upon by the long march of their quest.  But I still survive.  My spirits revive me.  I unfold, slowly and painfully until I stand once more.  My specters show me the way.  I take refuge in the myths.

november or december 1979

2008:  Mom and I in the midst of a discussion.  I"m wearing my special relativity t-shirt -- man, I wish I still had it!

November 18, 1979

Sunday; I'm 16.

I just got back from a weekend at mom's in Cleveland.  She and Joe U. are engaged, though not necessarily to get married.  Instead of a ring, Joe gave mom a 16 gauge double barrel shotgun.  it figures.  Joe's so hyper-military (ex-special forces) that even after 8 years past Viet Nam, he' s still wearing fatigues and army boots.  But he's nice.

I really don't know why I'm not writing.  I have lots of thoughts, but I don't write them down.  Perhaps a tape recorded journal.  

November 15, 1979

Thursday; I'm 16.

I did it!  My spherical chess game is a success.  Though I thought at first it wouldn't work, I used longitude - latitude lines to make the squares.  All the same rules apply, except at the poles, since there my rules differ only slightly.

November 11, 1979

Sunday; I"m 16.

Let's talk television.  Most TV shows on today are crap.  Badness in abundance.  The worst is probably ABC.  Happy Days, Laverne and Shirley, Three's Company, Love Boat, and their many stupid tv movies.  I prefer CBS over NBC and ABC.  But there's junk on every channel.  Charlie's Angels, Hello Larry, the list goes on.  But there's some good shows.  Barney Miller, Mash, the old All in the Family, Quincy, Rockford Files, and of course the best show ever to hit TV, Monty Python's Flying Circus.  

I watch a lot less tv than I used to.  It seems that as I get older, my opinion of it lowers.  Not that tv is all bad.  There are some very good shows on the networks, sometimes, and on PBS.  But the majority of it isn't worth watching.

November 10, 1979

Saturday; I"m 16.

I have devised a variation of the game of chess.  In this variation, you play the game on a sphere with 64 squares on it.  One side starts at one pole, the other at the opposite.  I won't use a latitude and longitude method for making squares, since the poles would be points and many squares (really, triangles) would meet there, unlike a regular board.

November 10, 1979

Saturday; I'm 16.

Most TV shows now are crap!

I've read that modern paper only lasts about 30 years.  The high sulfuric acid content eats it away.  Too bad.  I want this notebook to last a lot longer than that.  

At school BJ F. and I have formed an empire.  The Empire of Ticonderoga in the Eighth Dimension.  We are Co-Emperors.

November 9, 1979

Friday; I"m 16.

I went with Tim D. to Gastown where he works at a self-serve gas station, to see how hard his job is.  He's always telling me it's more than pressing the "authorize" button.  Actually, there is not a lot more to it.  Just handling cash and change, sweeping, giving directions, and a few other little things.  

Got A's and B's on my report card for the first nine weeks.

I've become quite interested in Leonardo da Vinci.  A most amazing person.  Such a mind!  He is the perfect union of art and science.  The more I read about him, the more amazed I am of him.

November 2, 1979

Friday; I"m 16.

[2008:  Here are drawn plans for an "organetta," a small organ powered by a foot pump attached to a balloon as a "wind chest."  I also had designs for the keys and how the action would uncover an air hole to the organ pipe to produce a sound.  I was really fascinated by pipe organs at this time.]

October 24, 1979

Wednesday; I"m 16.

I'm not sure when it started, but it's been going on for a few weeks now.  I first noticed it one night after I had gone to sleep.  A strange noise woke me up.  I looked up groggily from my pillow, fumbling around for the light switch.  Suddenly something blew into my face.  Confused, I tried to brush it away.  It kept fluttering around my head, like some strange moth.  I was swinging my arms crazily about, trying to get it off my face, when I fell out of bed.  The lights quickly snapped on, for some strange reason.  I was looking up at the time, and the bright light blinded me for a moment.  I was dazed, blinded, and confused.  That thing was lying on the floor.  I grabbed it, but I had to wait a few seconds until my eyes adjusted to the light.  When I finally could see, I saw that I was holding a leaf in my hand.  The thing fluttering around my face was a leaf.  Being half-asleep, I couldn't figure out how a leaf would fly around my head like an insect.  But in the middle of the night, I didn't care, so I went back to sleep.  

Later the next day I was walking home from school.  I sort of strolled along, kicking the bright autumn leaves lying on the ground.  As I walked, a low sort of growling sound became audible.  Suddenly the wind picked up fast, to my face.  A wall of wind-blown leaves engulfed me.  I covered my face with my arms, and as the leaves flew past me, a louder growl surrounded me.

October 21, 1979

Sunday; I"m 16.

I never practice the piano as much as I should.  I've been playing for two years, two months.  Right now I'm working on Mozart's third sonata and a Bach piece.  

"When in doubt, jump up and down."

I'm more interested in doodling than writing.

I'll think I'll make another move this week.  Some more pixelation.  Maybe I'll redo the chess game.

October 20, 1979

Saturday; I'm 16.

Do I fear old age or death?  Death, no, because I believe in life after death.  Old age?  I cannot imagine myself as a senior citizen.  I don't even know what I'll look like in 10 years.  And how long will I live?  Well, I plan to be at least 100 before I die, and there is no reason why I couldn't live that long.  In fact, it's the simple truth that I'm going to live at least 100 years, if not more.  

October 19, 1979

Friday; I'm 16.

Tomorrow Tim D. and I are going to make an 8mm film.  This will be my third.  I did the first by myself, the second with Craig R.  I'm not really sure what we are going to do.  I have an idea of filming it an interesting angle.  Tim and I also might do some Monty Python type stuff.  Perhaps a shot while bike riding.

Today at school we had a pep rally.  Being anti-bobcat (our school mascot) and anti-school spirit, I never get all hyped up at rallies.  They always remind me of the Nuremburg rallies of 1936 in Nazi Germany.  

I wonder if I'll always like classical music.  At the present time I hope so, but in the coming years, who knows?  Now it's conceivable that my particular likeness for barouqe music might change, but generally classical is the only music I listen to.  rock and roll is good music, and I like it, but when compared to Bach it always comes out a loser.

I'm different from other people.

 

October 13, 1979

Saturday; I"m 16.

[2008: the last mirror writing entry!  what a stupid idea!  will decode later.]

October 8, 1979

Monday; I'm 16.

[2008:  mirror writing entry; will decode later.]

September 29, 1979

Saturday; I'm 15.

[2008: entry in mirror writing; will translate later.  It does mention that tomorrow Tim D. and I will go see Monty Python's Life of Brian.]

September 26, 1979

Wednesday; I"m 15.

[2008: mirror writing again.  will decode later.]

September 25, 1979

Tuesday; I"m 15.

[2008: written in mirror writing, and in light pencil.  can't read it now.  will figure it out later.]

September 15, 1979

Saturday; I'm 15.

[2008: this entry is written in "mirror" handwriting, like da Vinci.  What a pain to read!]

How's this for writing?  From now on I'm going to write like this in here, for added secrecy.  I've decided to write my journal this way because lately I've been reading up on Leonardo da Vinci.  I've always been interested in him, but a few weeks ago I couldn't find any books on him at the university library.  The books on him are under his first name, Leonardo.  I always figured he'd be under Vinci.

Well, I've been at school for two weeks. I'm now used to the school schedule.   

September 3, 1979

Monday; I"m 15.

I think I'm going to be sick.  School starts tomorrow.  Actually, I like school, or to be precise, I like to learn, but the first day is always depressing.  Summer is over, and it's time to work.  Time to say good bye to free time.  Now a formal quest for knowledge take over my informal one.  By the way, I got my grades back from my logic and cosmology courses.  In both I got B's.  Was I relieved.  I wasn't so sure what I was going to get in cosmology, but I expected at least a B in logic.

Now I'm going to get another folder for my 10th grade works.  My ninth grade file is closed.

 

August 28, 1979

Tuesday; I"m 15.

So much for lengthy entries.  As for that long walk, Tim D. and I went through the Kenwood woods, into the unexplored woods, down the old train tracks to Gypsy Lane, road up Gypsy lane to Main street and back to Tim's house.

I don't think I told you about the Kenwood woods.  they lie behind the playground of Kenwood school.  It is privately owned, but it is not fenced off.  You walk right from the playground into the woods, usually on the main trail.  The main trail connects into all the other trails, of which there are many.  The main trail makes a big U in the woods.  The first branching trail on the right leads you to the pond, which is usually empty.  Here hoods come over and drink beer and smoke.  

In the woods' golden age, there were many forts built.  Most were built by six graders or younger, but some older kids built forts.  The most famous fort is the Hippie Hangout.  It was built of junk, as are all of the forts; part of its floor was once a door to a prison cell.  The walls were piled logs and it had no roof.  In fact, it only had 2 walls.  The hoods used it to smoke and drink, but as like every other fort it is in ruins now.  The ruins and remains of about 5 other forts, perhaps more if you looked hard, can still be seen.  

One is Don M.'s old fort, which Tim D. and myself destroyed at a time when we didn't like Don.  Another fort, and the most recent built, was first started by Tim D.  and I, but we forgot about it, so my brother Colman, Gary M., and Bill and Danny T., all being hoods, used it as a hood hideout.  It was the best built fort in the woods, but that's because they used tools (stolen).  I must say that most forts were conglomerations of junk, without roofs, sometimes using trees and brush.  But this fort had four walls and a ceiling.  It even had a crude screen window and a wood floor.  After Colman, Gary, and Billy and Danny stopped using it some other hoods moved in.  Knowing this, and being anti-hood, Tim D. and I proceeded to destroy the fort.  

When the hoods came back, they wrote a threat on the wreckage: "your dead!"  Of course Tim and I had a wonderful laugh when we read it.  The fort has not been rebuilt since.  Other ruins are scattered about the woods like piles of junk.  The main building material for forts was sheets of metal and plywood.

Back then, the woods had well-defined trails and was much traveled.  But this golden age ended about 5 years ago.  I was in it in maybe third, and fourth and fifth grades, but it started before I got there.  Don and Tim had built forts before I was there.  For some reason, though, after my classmates and I got out of the sixth grade, except for the occasional  hood, nobody went in the woods much.  Now the trails, even the main trail, are overgrown.  The woods are unused.

 

Augusts 27, 1979

Sunday; I'm 15.

I'm listening to Bach's Third Brandenberg Concerto while I'm writing this.  Best piece of music by anyone.  I could listen to it for hours.  Every time I listen to it, it gives me a nice feeling, though it's rather hard to describe.  Puts me in a sort of reflective type of mood.  But enough of that.  At 11:30 tonight on PBS, Monty Python and the Holy Grail is going to be on.  Now that is a funny movie.  MP Flying Circus is about the only thing good enough to watch on tv.

Now I'm waiting for I, Claudius to come on.  That's worth watching.

I've just thought of an interesting short story.  A boy is listening to a record with headphones when he hears a voice in the headphone.  He talks to the voice, but only through the headphones.  Weird things happen and so on.

There are many thing I wish to talk to you about.  For one, who is this 'you' that I refer to.  I agree it is whomever is reading this.  Although as far as I know, I"m the only one who is ever going to read this.  Of course since I plan to save this indefinitely, perhaps many years after I'm dead and gone someone will pick this up in a dusty old attic.  But that will not be for a long time, particularly since I plan to live a very long time.  At the minimum, I'll hit a hundred.  Well, whoever is reading this, don't throw it away!  Give it to someone in my family, if I have one.

I"m going to love reading this in the future.  And I'll have plenty to read, since I plan to keep a a journal for the rest of my life if I can.  There are so many things to talk about.  How about the future.  Tim D. and I, both top notch astrophysicists.  Don M., the leading pianist in the country.  But what would happen if I had never met Tim or Don?  My life would certainly be altered.  Who could I confide with?  Tim N.?  Certainly not.  I might have lapsed into conformity.  As for Don, though I often joke about him, and despite his many annoying characteristics, I did miss him when he went on vacation.  he's the type that at first you can't tolerate, but after a while he sort of grows on you.  And besides, a trio is better than a pair.

No matter how well I know him, I wonder about Tim D.

August 24, 1979

Friday; I'm 15.

"All that a man needs in life is a dead dog and a pickup truck."

I bought another harmonica today.  Hohner's marine band.  Wow, big deal!  

School is starting on Sept. 4 this year; not much longer.  It seems that I'm going to have Tim N. in a number of my classes.  Gym, German II, and English.  Oh well, he's not that bad.

I've been trying to decide that if I become a writer, and if I used a pseudonym, what would it be?  I've got the last name: Dresden.  but I can't decide on the first: John, Thomas, Robert, Felix, Frank, Johnathan, Oscar, etc. 

August 23, 1979

Thursday; I'm 15.

Boy, do I want a roll top desk.  I've always like the one my dad has very much, but now Tim D. has one.  Actually he's had it for a number of months.  But I just can't stand my present desk.  It's small and can't be flush with the wall because of those stupid wood edgeboards on the bottom of the wall.  And besides, I love pigeonholes.  You can cram all sorts of junk and knick knacks in them.  And it burns me up that my dad has one, and so does my  best friend.

But I have a plan.  I fiendishly clever plan.  A diabolical plan.  I will kill Tim, yes, that's it.  I will kill him.  He will die, and I will take his desk.  I deserve it anyway.  I will kill Tim. hee hee hee hee hee!! I will murder him, and he will die!  And the desk will be all mine!  All Mine!  And no one will ever suspect me.  I"m too clever for them.  I am much more clever than those inferior humans.  I will kill him in such a way that no one will suspect.  DIE, TIM, DIE!!!!

Note:  This last topic (killing Tim D.) is merely my exercise of my creative abilities.  I have no intention of murdering Tim.  Don't take it seriously.

Well, not a lot has been happening around here.  Don came back from his California vacation.  I got my schedule for the high school.  Beginning September 4, I'll be a tenth grader, a sophomore.  I'm going to like the HS better than the junior high.  The HS is a much more modern building.  But I can't wait for college.  Then I can study what I really want to, astrophysics.

August 16, 1979

thursday/I'm 15.

Hello.  Guess what, last night I went on my first date.  And with who else, but Cathy Hamilton.  We went to the movies and saw "Escape from Alcatraz"  with Clint Eastwood.  It was a good movie.  We went to the 7:20 showing.  I had a nice time.  We couldn't go anywhere afterwards, because she had to pack to go to her aunt's house that night.  We rode our bikes there and back.  I didn't hold her hand, nor did I kiss her good night.  However, one thing leads to another, and perhaps the next time I go out with her, we can get a little closer.

Lately I've been doing a little composing in my spare time.  It's fun, and not as hard as I thought.  

There are a lot of topics I'd like to talk to you about, like philosophy, dreams, cosmology, life, etc.  I hope I can get up enough willpower to sit down and write it all.

 

August 9, 1979

Thursday, I’m 15.

Boy, what a day. Two events to talk about. First, I actually got up the courage to call up Cathy bymyself, without anybody’s help. Of course, she wasn’thome. She’s probably on vacation. Now I’ll have togo to the fair with either Tim D. or Don.

Next event. I just came back from a rather harrowingevent. At about 9:30 pm, Tim N. came over to show methe lawns I’m going to mow. He showed me both, and wewent into his house, so he could show me some M-80firecrackers he’d gotten. Well, I saw them, and wedecided to light one. So we went downstairs andoutside into his driveway. We started with a fewsmall fireworks, like those charcoal snakes. We lit ablackcat, which didn’t go off, and then the M-80. Now, the M-80s are very formidable firecrackers. Much more powerful than blackcats, and surpassed only bythe rare M-100. When the M-80 went off, there wasthis big BOOM and a bright flash. Then we crept up tothe blackened concrete where it exploded. Then we sawthis man across the street looking at us through hisdoor. We froze. He just kept looking at us. Finallyhe went inside and Tim started locking all the doorsand flipping all the lights out as fast as possible.

I wondered why he did this, and then he looked outthe window and there was a police car in his driveway. So Tim, being paranoid, rushed upstairs into hisroom. Or so I thought. I went into his room, anddidn’t see anybody. I then heard a voice say “Robert,go to sleep.” This sort of surprised me, so I justwent into his room and sat for about ten minutes. Igot tired of sitting, so I came out into the hallway,and tried to find Tim.

I stumbled down the pitch black hallway, calling until he came out.  I told him I had to go, but we looked out and saw a police car going around the block.  So we went into different rooms, peeking out of windows, and trying to figure out what to do.  So I waited until about 10:20 and decided I should try to leave.  So we crept down the stairs, and out to the back door.  

"Are you ready?" Tim N. asked.

"Yes," I replied.

So he opened the door and I crouched over and made my way to my bike.  I knelt down, quietly put up my kickstand, rolled down the driveway, and rode off.  Luckily, no one saw, like I figured.  I got home safely, and told my parents what happened.  They thought it was funny, and it was.  Tim N. acted so scared and paranoid.  I was much calmer.

August 7, 1979

Tuesday/I"m 15.

Your wish of luck didn't help.  I stayed home all day, since Tim was with Katie and Don wasn't here.  I thought I could convince myself to call Cathy.  But, as always, I talked myself out of it.  Dumb stupid idiot me!  My whole outlook to this is terribly illogical.  It is perfectly natural to be attracted to the opposite sex, and logically, if there is someone you like, you want to be with them.  And in our society it is up to the males to make the first move.  So it is highly improbable that Cathy will call me up.  So, if I like her, I should logically make some effort to be with her, such as calling and asking her out.  But I haven't done that.  Actually, I did on June 1, but ever since then I haven't been able to do it again.  Not that I haven't tried.  But every time Tim tries to help me, and I do call, the phone is busy.  And every time I could call when I'm at home, I talk myself out of it.  I think tomorrow I'll go to Tim's, to see if he can get me to call her.

August 6, 1979

Monday; I'm 15.

You're not going to believe what happened today.  A momentous event that will go down in History.  Tim D., 17 years old, has finally asked out a girl!!  Can you believe it?  The spell has begun to break.  There is still hope for Tim.  Of course it wasn't easy to get Tim to do it.  I went to his house today, because I had rather unwillingly been made to call Cathy H.  

It seems that a few days ago Tim and his sister Mary had gone to Howards for a few drinks.  He got a little tipsy and told Mary about Cathy H., and Dawn S.  So when Mary found out (I didn't exactly appreciate Tim for telling) she told Tim that she'll help both of us to call, and ask out Cathy for me, and Katie D. for Tim.  The next day when Tim told me about this, of course I was against it.  I do want to go out with Cathy, but my chickenness stops me.  So he threatened to call Cathy himself and tell her everything I told Tim about her.  So, even though I figured he was bluffing, I deep down did want to go see Cathy, so I agreed.  

Well, today, you should have seen the fighting going on.  Tim had volunteered to be worked on first, so we dragged, pulled, kicked, pushed and shoved him to the phone.  Eventually he called a few times, but without success.  Then it was my turn.  Well, I ran off rather quickly, but Tim caught me and dragged pulled, kicked, and shoved me to the phone.  But every time Mary dialed, I pushed a few buttons to mess it up.  I even took the phone off the mounting, but to no avail.  I as finally forced to sit away from the phone while Mary dialed Cathy's number.  but, good look intervened and nobody answered, so I was off the hook.  

Again, we started on Tim after me.  Well, he shot like a rocket right out of the house, but he returned, and so we got him to sit down while we dialed.  Lo and behold, someone answered.  Then Katie got on the line.  so they chit-chatted for a few minutes, and finally Tim asked her if she would like to go to the county fair (Aug. 6-11) and she accepted.  Well of course Tim was ecstatic, but we all took it calmly.  So tomorrow I'm, I hope, going to call Cathy and ask her out to the fair.  Wish me luck.

 

August 1, 1979

Wednesday; I"m 15.

Hi!  As I'm writing this I'm listening on the headphones to Glenn Gould playing Bach's Well Tempered Clavier, book 2.  Nice record.  

Well, I have some news.  Tim D. has finally gotten a chance to get a girlfriend.  Her name is Katie.  Tim met her on July 28, when Tim's sister Kathy got married.  I was invited.  It was a nice wedding.

Well, to get on, at the reception Tim met this girl named Katie, who is a relative of the groom.  they got to talking, and since I was right by them studying two spiders, I heard some of their conversation (Tim also told me about it later).  Katie was talking to Tim about how she had taken all these different drugs.  But she said she took them only once to see what they were like.  And even if she liked them she said she would still only take them once.  Tim of course doesn't like drugs, and won't take them, and he told her this.  She respected his opinion.  She doesn't force her opinions and beliefs on others.  Then Don M. signaled me to get out of the garage so they could be alone (now I'm listening to Handel's Royal Fireworks music).  So Don and I went out to play ping-pong in his yard, while Tim and Katie wandered off.  Later I found out by Tim that they both had gone over to a house where Kathy was.  She and a bunch of her friends were smoking a bowl.  Katie took a puff, offered Tim some, but he declined.  They stayed a little while, and then came back.  When he came back, I saw him and asked him where he went.  Tim told me about it, and then we saw Don come up from his house.  Before, Don thought when Tim had disappeared that he had taken Katie up to the fort at the top of the garage to make out.  So Tim and I decided to tell Don just that.  Well, Don fell for it and we had our fun until Tim finally decided to tell Don.  He then said that he didn't believe Tim anyway from the start, but he did.  When he asked Tim "let me shake your hand!" he believed him.  I'll talk more on the morrow.

July 30, 1979

Monday; I'm 15.

Today I got a letter from Lisa G. in Iowa.  She's doing fine, staying up until 11:30 and getting up at noon.  Can you believe that?  that's 12.5 hours of sleep a day!  She's conscious only half the day.  Gad, what a waste of time.  I think tomorrow I'll write her back.

We got a new car today.  A 1979 Chrysler LeBaron.  Only 8,000 miles on it.  It was used as a demonstrator.  It's light gray on the outside with a gray interior.  And leather seats!  It is definitely a nice car.  it has a very quiet ride.  Smooth, too.

My logic and cosmology classes at BGSU are going pretty good.

I wish I would start writing down more of my dreams.  I've to a 15 year backlog, though.  One thing I could do is every time I write a recent dream down, I'll write an old one down.  But, my dreams take so long to write down.

I've been jogging again, for about 2 weeks.  With Tim D.  We are going 3 miles a day, in about 25 minutes.

July 25, 1979

Wednesday.  I'm 15.

Well, it seems I never got around to writing that next morning.  But, I'm here now.

I've had a few interesting dreams lately.  A couple of nights ago I dreamed that I was living in our old house on south main.  Tim D. and I were going to walk somewhere, when we saw from my porch about 10 black hoods across the street, all wearing tan jumpsuits.  Since we had to cross the street, I suggested that maybe we should take a different route, considering that the hoods were all carrying big quarterstaffs, and were acting rowdy.  Tim said we needn't worry, so I consented.  As we were about to cross the street, though, another gang appeared on the side of the street.  There were about 6 of them, were all white, and all wore black leather jackets.  When Tim saw this, he changed his mind and agreed with me that perhaps we ought to quietly leave.  It happened that the gang on our side of the street wanted to rumble with the other gangs.  So we hastened to get out.  Surprisingly enough, we crossed the street to get out, which took us right to the fight.  But we crossed the street safely and ran down a street connecting to Main (which was strangely small and trafficless).  As we rushed down the street I looked back and saw the white gang riding unicycles in a circle around the black gang.  We kept running until we got to the end of the bl0ck, which on the right side was a huge 10 foot hedge.  It was straight up and pointed at the top.  So to get away, we climbed up and over it.  For some reason it was dense enough that we could climb it with ease, it didn't crush under us.  So when we got on the other side, we sat down, rested, and the dream ended.

 

July 20, 1979

Friday.  I'm 15.

Howdy.  Nothing much happened today.  A friend of my parents is staying over night.  She's getting a divorce, so she needs a place to stay.  I think I'll write some tomorrow morning.  Bye.

July 16, 1979

Monday.  I'm 15.

Well, I finally did it.  I went, after all these years, to Cedar Point.  And it was fun.  There were multitudes of rides to choose from, including five roller coasters.  The coasters are the most fun.  The best one there is the Gemini.  the first plunge is at a 55 degree angle.  And when you go on it at night, boy is it fun!  The other four are fun, too, although the Corkscrew is a little too rough.  What with all those loops, you get knocked around a bit.  Of course another feature at Cedar Point are the girls!  What little some of them wear in the summer!  You can get glimpses of all sorts of things.  

mom and Joe, 70s

mom and Joe, late 70s

July 13, 1979

Friday; I'm 15.

I went to Lisa G.'s going  away party tonight.  Tim N., BJ F., Gretchen S., myself and of course Lisa G were there.  So was some girl named Kathy.  I had a fun time.  Unfortunately, Kathy H. didn't make it.  But still it was fun.  I brought my tarot cards with me, and I ended up giving a ton of readings.  Lisa G. asked my about her imminent air flight, her future sex life, her present sex life, what's going to happen to her in the next 10 years.  BJ asked me about his future sex life, how rich he will be, will he be married, and if so, will it be happy.  Gretchen asked me about her future sex life and how rich she is going to be.  Tim N. asked me about how successful his job is going to be.  Cathy asked me about her life in nine years.  I gave readings most of the night.

Too bad Lisa's moving.  I'm going to miss her.  I like her better than Cathy H.  But, I was too chicken ever to do anything.  Of course, she does live about 4 miles out of town.  But that shouldn't stop me.

[2008: I must have learned to read tarot cards somewhere around 76 or 77.  Jenny introduced them to me, I think. ]

July 12, 1979

Thursday; I'm 15.

Things sure are better here in BG now that Tim D. is back.

Today I found one of my old notebooks. It had all my 6th grade and earlier space battle drawings, and my seventh grade rather crude war games. I must say that, in the are of my war games, I certainly have advanced.

[2008: what follows is a dull description of how I played war games on graph paper with imaginary countries. I'll put some of it down here, until it bores me too much!]

The first ones were terribly simple in design. I always used the same seven countries, all drawn with straight blockish borders. The countries were always in the same relative position on the paper, and to each other. All I did was to decide how much land would the attacking country take. And the same countries won every time, game after game. Gad, how primitive those games were.

[2008: I was like a little Napoleon, conducting wars in my head. I used to read a lot about world war two.]

But now my war games are an art form. I now draw detailed continents, with outlying islands and archipelagos. The continents have rivers, bays, peninsulas, etc. The only think I don't draw in is elevation and mountains. If I did, then the maps would be too complicated.

[2008: really, half the fun back then was drawing maps of imaginary places.]

My countries are drawn with realistic boundaries, and I mark down the capitals and sometimes major cities. Once the countries are developed I conglomerate them into international organizations, mostly military.

[2008: I was drawing these games and making little wars during study hall in junior high. This warfare is both conventional and nuclear.]

OK, enough.

July 9, 1979

Monday; I'm 15.

We decided which piano to get today. My family and Robert E., my piano teacher, went down to Findlay again. We all liked the Sohmers the best but it was also the most expensive. The Kawai sounded all right, but it had a rather stiff touch. The Baldwin was a nice touch, a nice tone and sound, and was only $1600. The Baldwin sounded better than the Kawai, so we narrowed it down between the Sohmers and the Baldwin. The Sohmers was a better piano, in all respects, but it would cost $2000. And the difference between the two wasn't worth $400, considering how much we had. So we're getting the Baldwin. It is a good piano, and should last. It's going to arrive at our house Wednesday.

Today Tim D. should have come home. I haven't been to his house because I don't know his plane leaves, and I've been busy all day. Tomorrow after class I'll go over to his house.

Today, weather-wise, was an unusual day. It rained so much in the afternoon that the sewers overflowed into basements and onto the streets. Parts of Wooster street were totally submerged under 6 inches of water. A whole block of Clough street was turned into a lake. S. Prospect also flooded from the intersection of Clough and Prospect down to Washington st. Our basement has about 10 inches of water in it. My comic books and Mad magazines are totally submerged. Our manx cat, Bonnie, was trapped on the top of the bed down there. We had to float a board to her to climb back on the stairs with and get out of the basement. It's going to take a while to clean out our basement.

[2008: my parents still have the Baldwin piano. Also, the flood explains what happened to my collection of comics and Mads. Also, the rain was from Hurricane Bob; see Wikipedia.]

July 8, 1979

Sunday; I"m 15.

Tomorrow we're going down to Findlay to take a second look at the pianos there.  We are probably going to choose either a Baldwin, Kawai, or Sohmers.  The Baldwin sounds alright, but it's a little dampered in sound.  The Kawai sounds nice (he can brighten up the tone) and has a nice touch.  I like the Sohmers the best.  It has a clear sound, looks nice, and it has a good touch.  I don't like the place where the Baldwin is, though.  Other than pianos and organs, they also sell TVs and they're giving away 100 gallons of gas with each piano or organ (sounds a little gimicky to me).  The people there weren't that nice.

Tomorrow Tim comes back from Germany.  I"m glad.  These past few weeks have been so boring at times.  Logic class at BGSU has been interesting, but I've had long stretches of boredom.  And with Don coming over every while or so, It's even worse.  All he talks about are girls and sex.  Tim N. isn't much better.  I've had too much spare time.

by the way, Tim's sister Kathy is getting married July 28 at St. Al's church in BG.  I got an invitation a few days ago.  She's marrying Chris D.

July 5, 1979

It's Thursday, and I'm 15.

I saw Cathy H.  today.  She was walking north on Kenwood Ave.  and I passed by her on my bike.  At first I didn't see her, because I was looking at some other cyclists down the road, and right when I passed her, I was looking at my watch.  Then she yelled something about me not saying anything and just going by.  I looked back and said "OK, I won't."  

I planned to go up to Napoleon, take a left, then go left down the alley.  As I went down the alley Don M. came up with an 8 pack of Dr. Pepper on his bike.  I told him of seeing Cathy as we rode down the gravel-paved alley.  I rode up to Dixie ave., made a left, went down to Kenwood ave., and made a right.  I rode up Kenwood, said "hello" to Cathy and her friend, and rode past up to Don's house.  I stopped there and talked to him until about 2 minutes later, Cathy walked in front of Don's house.  So I went up and said "hello again."  So we got to talk for a couple of minutes.  I found out that she is going to Lisa's party on the 13th.  I then left to go get a DP (Dr. Pepper).

I think from now on, every night after I write an entry, I"m going to keep my journal by my bed until morning, so I can write down any dreams I've remembered.

Boy, have I got rotten handwriting.  It is really messy.  Sometimes even I have a hard time reading it.  I've always had this kind of writing.  Of course I usually write this in bed, except for this sentence.

[2008: as you can see I was pretty hopeless around girls I liked.  I think Cathy was doing her best but I was just clueless.  Also note the mention of Dr. Pepper.  It was OUR DRINK back then, and we had one almost every day, along with a Snickers bar for me.   Teens consuming toxic waste.]

July 3, 1979

It's Tuesday, and I'm 15.

Gruss Gott!

A couple of interesting events occurred today.  I went to the bank and got 8 susan b. anthony dollars.  First time I've seen them.  I wonder how long they will last.  They are similar in size to the quarter, and if confusions arise enough, anthonys will go the trail of the twenty cent piece.  But the treasury is dong a big pr job to publicize it, so it might stay for a while.  It's certainly more than they did for the ike dollars.  They were unpopular from the very beginning, mostly because of their size.   They were bulky and hard to carry.  Their only success was in the gambling casinos in Las Vegas and Atlantic City.  I feel fairly optimistic for the anthonys.  They'll be here for a while.

Unfortunately, the new 2 dollar bill doesn't look like it's going to make it.  Very few are circulating.  Whenever I receive change at a store, I have never gotten a 2.  I, for one, like them better than the ones.  They look a lot nicer, and besides, I like Tom Jefferson better than Washington.  Not by much (George IS the father of our country), but I do admire him more.  As long as I'm talking about one of them, I'll give you my list of my 4 heroes (for lack of a better term).  Not in order:

1.  Jefferson

2.  Da Vinci

3.  Bach

4.  Einstein

Now on to my second event of the day.  For years and years I've always wanted firecrackers.  Unfortunately, in Ohio everything except sparklers are illegal.  So the only way around here to get firecrackers is either go to the nearest state where they're legal (Tenn. I think), or get them on the black market (Toledo is in the top 5 nationally in the sales of illegal fireworks).  Now I can't go down to Tenn., so my only way to get them is the black market.  Every now and then someone at school has gotten a lot and is willing to sell them, so you go to them.  But you can never buy a whole bunch.  Now, if you go to Toledo around July, you can find places to buy them.  However, thanks to my brother, Colman, I didn't have to leave the house to get any.  Colman, because of his earlier days as a semi-hood, acquired a few connections.  One had gotten a hold of boxes and boxes of various fireworks.  So for ten dollars I bought 960 1.5 omcj Black Cat firecrackers.  Colman kept 96 for getting them for me, since I didn't know the guy.  What a bonanza!  With this many I can keep a lot for myself.  I can sell about a third of them and easily get back my initial investment.  It will be a supplement to my regular income.  I will probably make a fair profit.  I will also be a small black market dealer, too.  But, you have to take the good with the bad.  I know full well what I'm doing is illegal, but nobody is vice-free.  Not much of a reason, but it's true.

spring 1979

me and mom, supporting mayor Kucinich in Cleveland

July 1, 1979

It's Sunday, and I'm 15.

My brother Colman is visting on leave from the USS Nimitz.  Most of the time he's out with his friends.

Next time he visits, I'm not going to the airport with Dad to meet him.  We arrived at the airport at 8 pm, and Colman didn't arrive until 11:30!  A big storm front had come in and his plane had been delayed a few times.  Then in Detroit it broke down!  They had to pus the passengers from Detroit to Toledo.  Now, being stuck in an airport terminal for 3.5 hours is bad enough, but neither of us had any money.  So we couldn't get anything to eat or drink.  We just could sit around.  This did, though, give us some time to talk.  Dad was telling me about when he went to India, his stage of prolific letter-writing in the sixties, etc.  I was very surprised to learn that while he was in India, my father met Indira Gandhi.  She was prime minister of India for a long time.  But my dad met her when she was minister of information.  He was staying at a hotel, and she was there, too.  So they got to talk for a little bit before she left.  Dad also met a maharaja at his palace.

We talked about India for a while.  then we talked about his friend Ted E. getting a new piece of land in Maine.  I never knew Ted was as famous in the literary circles as he is.

June 28, 1979

Thursday.  I'm 15.

Guess what?  New colored ink.  Big deal!

Today I was invited to a party by Lisa G.  It's on July 13, which is a Friday!  It sounds like it will be fun.  I'm pretty sure Cathy H.  will be there, which will be a big plus for me.  If things go right at the party, I'll be able to get a little closer to Cathy.  I wouldn't mind getting closer to Lisa, either, but she is moving to Florida in August, so all we could have was a little fling.  Anyway, she lives four miles out of town.  Cathy doesn't.  She lives in town, and not too far away.

I often wonder about Craig R.  He's an unusual person.  He is disliked by most people.  In fact, in the ninth grade in school, Craig probably had only 3 or 4 friends.  Everyone else in the ninth grade made fun of him.  The general populace didn't like Craig, and they openly showed it.  Some people go out of their way to bother him.  It's a sorry sight.  he is actually not that weird.  He does have some emotional problems, though.  His father, Craig tells me, is involved with the underworld.  I believe this, too, because when his mom picked me up from my house, Craig noticed a van behind them that he thought was following them.  His mother thought so too, and periodically through the trip Craig would spot the van.  His mother's reaction seemed to corroborate with Craig's father's occupation.  His parents are divorced, and I haven't met his father.  I don't think Craig is so disturbed that he would make up a story like that.

His peer have exacted a toll on Craig.  Craig is a good drawer, but almost all his drawings center on revenge.  Craig wants revenge on his peers for their treatment of him.  He often talks of a house of horrors that he'll make, with real horrors inside.  He has told me that he wants, when he's older, a television station, which he will use to seek revenge.  Of course I may be taking all of this too seriously.  But I know he has problems.  He sleepwalks (I've seen it) and suffers from bouts of colitis, both signs of emotional stress.  He says his mother sleepwalks, too.

As usual, it's getting late, so I'll write again tomorrow.  bye!

June 27, 1979

It's Wednesday, and I'm 15.  

It's me again.  I'm going to copy down my code into this.

[2008: what follows is a simple code that has a different symbol for each letter.  Very easy to decode!]

Well, so much for that.  What to write about now?  Today I got a letter from Lisa G.  Too bad she lives in Rudolph, and will soon be moving to Florida.  She's a good friend.  And I wouldn't mind being more than just friends, if you catch my drift (what a strange slang expression!).  But Rudolph is about four miles outside of town, which makes a close relationship difficult without a car, which I don't plan to get for a while.  I wrote her a reply, and maybe if she writes me back, I could ask for her address in Florida, so I could write her there.

I wonder if there will be a nuclear war in my lifetime?  [2008: what follows is a teen's view of the world situation.  It's too plodding and dull to put down verbatim, so here are the highlights:

• nuclear war is more likely between smaller nuclear powers, and not the US and USSR
• an all out war would wipe out the US, USSR, China, most of Europe, and probably Japan
• Since the US and Canada produce 2/3 of the world's wheat, there would be worldwide starvation
• Civilization would reverse at least a hundred years, if not more
• world economic collapse, disease, etc

[2008:  I used to play Risk a lot, and my analysis shows the influence.  Also, I used to read about WWII all the time.  Why wasn't I out there chasing girls and getting into trouble???  Normal teen things.  No, I was too busy pondering the effects of nuclear war as if I were about to write an article for some academic journal.  Of course, we all know this kind of over-the-top intellectualizing is also pretty normal teen behavior. ]

1979 sometime

Me and Mom on the shores of lake Erie with Tasha, Joe's dog.

June 26, 1979

I'm 15, and it's Tuesday.

Hi!  You're not going to believe what I did today.  I went with Don M. on our bikes to Findlay!  Round trip is about 50 miles!  I was tired when I got home.  It took us about 3.5 hours to get there and 2 to get back.  The wind was against us going there.  We left at 9:17 am and got in Findlay at 12:46 pm.  We stayed there for about three hours.  Entered BG at 5:48 pm.  That was the longest and farthest bike trip I've ever taken.

The part of the trip from BG to North Baltimore was pretty boring, since all you see are farm fields stretching to the horizon.  But from North Baltimore to Findlay was much more scenic, because of the diversity of the land.  When we got to Findlay, we stopped off at the chamber of commerce and got some maps (Don collects them).  Then we went to McDonalds for lunch, after which we went to the shopping mall where Don and I both played a whole bunch of songs on pianos and organs at a small Bedwin piano booth.  There were four organs and a spinet inside it.  When I grow up I want a good piano, pipe organ, and harpsichord.  Wishful thinking, probably.  I also want a rolltop desk.

Unfortunately I started this late at night again, and after that bike ride I'm exhausted.  See ya later!

[2008: yes, as a teen I wanted a harpsichord!  and a "good pipe organ"???  I also liked Victorian furniture.  What a wacko!  I do now have a rolltop desk, so that did happen.  Instead of victorian, I prefer Ikea now.  And see, I had a great time with Don! ]

June 24, 1979

I'm 15, and it's Sunday.

Hello.  I'm sorry I haven't written.  I've been busy and sick lately.  Oh, by the way, the classification system I'm working on above, I'm refining now, and I'll include it in here when I"m finished.  As for Dawn, she pursued me through the eighth grade science class, openly showing her affection for me.  I was, unfortunately, too chicken to accept.  But I did write something nice in her yearbook, to make up for it.

[2008:  that was Mr. Myer's 8th grade science class.  That guy was incompetent!  We were in the junior high building]

To my surprise this year, she didn't entirely give up.  In English class, for a while in the beginning of the year, she was still flirting with me, and this time I played her little game.  Then I found out that she already had a boyfriend, Mark W., while she was flirting.  So I knew she wasn't very serious, and gave up the thought of being together.  

Well, enough of that.  Time to get on to other things.

It sure has been boring ever since Tim has left.  Now the only ones here are Tim N. and Don M.  Yeck!  I can see Craig R., although he lives in Portage.  But Craig is definitely better than Tim N. and Don put together.

It's getting late.  I think I'll try writing earlier in the day, so I can write longer.  Bye!

78-79

Robert, Mary, Tim

1978-9

Mary, Robert, Tim

around 1978 or 1979

Robert, Joe, Tim

June 19, 1979

Tuesday. I'm 15.

Well, continuing the last story, later Barb did confront me. Once she asked me to go roller skating. Another time she asked to go swimming with her in the pool. Both times I said no.

[2008: I was so stupid!! ah, youth].

I think I said no because although I did like her, as time went by I didn't think she was as pretty as I used to think. Of course physical beauty is not extremely important (though desirable), I felt that at this stage in my life I could be choosier in those matter since the relationship wouldn't go as far as it would if I were an adult

[2008: again, I was totally wrong! Also, I was no hunk! I was about at her level in terms of looks. Just another self-centered teen!]

In other words, I wasn't choosing a mate for life, so I could be a little more exacting in my beauty judgment.

[2008: that's completely the opposite of how it should be, right? What a dumb 15 year old I was! And of course my later success with girls in high schools was NONE!]

I hope whoever is reading this understands what I just said, and doesn't misinterpret it.

[2008: that's me, by the way! dumb dumb dumb dumb dumb]

To go on with the story, I ended up doing absolutely nothing with Barb, and I haven't talked to her this year at all. That's probably because I don't socialize much between classes, and she wasn't in any of mine. I was in, generally, more advanced classes than she was.

[2008: see, there's my snobbish attitude]

But I must say one thing for sure, though. She had the guts to ask me out first. A girl ask a boy. I congratulate her on that, because I think that the burden of asking out should be shared by both sexes, not just by men. If that were true now, maybe I would have a girlfriend.

[2008: what a lazy ass I was!]

Now I'll talk about my other prospect, which I was a total idiot to refuse. Dawn S. What a girl! Barb looked like a peasant compared to her

[2008: again, I looked like a peasant back then, dumbo! And yes, I was cutting and cruel in my observations. Hello, teen years!]

And she was fairly smart, too. He only major flaw was that she was a social. And not merely a social, but one of the reigning queens of social life. Perhaps I should clarify myself on the term "social."

[2008: believe me, this is as painful for me to write as it is for you to read, dear reader. Was she really so interested in me? I doubt.]

People at the teenage age can be classified into different groups. There are hoods, socials, brains, jocks, averagers, jerks, and the unclassifiable.

June 18, 1979

Monday. I'm 15.

[2008:This week's number one album is Bad Girls by Donna Summer. The number one song is hers: Hot Stuff. That tells you something about this era!]

I should start talking about myself. My name is Robert M. I was born in 1963. My parents are Howard and my stepmother is Jenny. My mom is Dora. I have a brother, Coleman, a step-sister Sue and a half sis Julia. Another half is on the way. Right now I live on Prospect street in BG.

The problem that Tim has? Well, I have it too. Though to a lesser degree, to be sure. I can talk to girls easily, but asking them out is difficult. It's very common. And I must say that I've had my chances. In the 8th grade (77-78) I had two totally perfect, easy chances to get a girlfriend. One was Barb H. She was in my fifth period math class. She sat in front of me. During the whole year we were always passing notes to each other, carrying on discussions by note. We got to be good friends, then in one note she asked me if I thought we would make a good couple (someone had told her that we would, she told me). I wrote back that I thought we might, possibly. Then she asked me if I wanted us to be a couple. Well, thanks to my imagination, I was able to put off answering her for days. I kept making excuses, but I knew that I would have to answer. Finally I ran out of excuses, and she was pleading with me in the note so much to answer, that I just had to.

If I said yes, I would have had an instant girlfriend. If I said no, I would hurt her feelings, I might lose a friend, and I would blow a perfect opportunity. So I skillfully all that and told her I did not want to be a couple now, but later in the year I might change my mind. So she decided to put off the matter until later in the year.

[here in 2008, I'll tell you the truth: I was a snob and thought she was lower middle class, and I didn't want to date her. Later on she went to a vocational high school, which in my mind then was proof I was "too good" for her. Of course I was an idiot punk with no sense at all. I hope she's had a good life since 1977.]

some dates and places

Moved to BG summer 1971

La Jolla, CA in fall 1969 semester

Northridge, CA in spring and summer 1976

Navajo Community College in summer 1975

Icleand in summer 1973

June 17, 1979

I am 15, and I live on south prospect st. in BG.

Sunday: Unfortunately, I haven't started Cat and Mouse. I wanted to start it, but it was about midnight, so I had to decide if I would type in my room, which might wake up the baby, or should I type in the basement, where I used to. I took so long in deciding that I got tired and went to sleep before I did anything. My problem is that I get my creative juices flowing at night. I feel ambitious from about 8:30 to midnight.

I've been wondering if I'm writing what's usually written in diaries and journals. Actually I haven't had a chance to talk about my feelings on some important subjects.

My friend Tim D. also keeps a journal, although I think he only writes the major events and thoughts in his life. I use my journal to think aloud on paper. I wonder what Tim puts in his journal. I've known him since 1973 or so, and we've been best friends almost the whole time. He's the only person I really can confide in, and vice versa (as far as I know!) Still, he won't show me his journal, which is totally understandable. I do wonder what he writes in it, because I know we don't tell each other everything.

One thing that has always bugged is the time with Don M.'s magazine. Don has this habit of reading dirty magazines. His favorite is the most disgusting I've ever seen: Hustler. Tim said that he agreed with me on this, but once Don told me that Tim asked for a copy. Now Tim isn't one to lie to me, but he told me the exact opposite. Sometimes I do get the feeling that there are some things that Tim doesn't tell me.

You know what's wrong? I'm hardly saying anything about myself. I'll have to do that next time.

June 15, 1979

I am 15.

Friday: I've got a new idea for a story, tentatively titled "Cat and Mouse." It's about a man trapped in some situation with an evil demonic cat after him. I'm thinking of putting them either in a deserted old house or maybe a small life boat, after the ship sinks. The house plot could be interesting, but it's a little cliche! The lifeboat one is more original. Setting could be somewhere else, though. I have been thinking, and the house bit is the best. I can modify it somewhat, though. Make it less cliche! if I want to start it, I'd better do it now.

June 14, 1979

I am 15.

Thursday: Tim's off in Germany now. I got a new watch today. Timex Marathon, $31.30. I should really keep a record of my dreams. They're quite interesting. It's 11:30, though, and I'm tired. Bye!

June 13, 1979

I am 15.

Wednesday: Not much happened today. Went and saw "Love at First Bite" at the Cla-Zel. Big deal! Tomorrow Tim D. leaves for Germany. For three weeks as an exchange student. He promised to save me a few Deutsche Marks. It won't be boring when he's gone, it's just that Don M. is bound to come over. And Don is an egotistical boring pest. He's a darn good piano player, but that's his only redeeming quality. He's very conceited about his playing ability, and he doesn't know that much, generally. The one paradox of his life, though, I have yet to figure out. For some reason, he can get a girlfriend a lot easier than Tim. Despite all his shortcomings, he's usually got some girl to go out with. I just don't understand it. One explanation might be his obsession with sex, which drives him to find girls more than myself and Tim.

(by the way, June 1, 1979 was the first time that I asked a girl out. Cathy H. Too bad her bike was at her grandma's house, which stopped her from being able to go to the movies with me. If I get enough guts, soon, I'll ask her out again.)

In fact, until very recently, Don thought of girls only as objects to get sex from. A very poor perception of females. Now, though, he has begun to think of girls more as people. But it still doesn't make sense! He is conceited, dumb, and very strange acting. And girls still go for him. His strangeness isn't the kind that might be chuckled at. He can be annoying at times. It is also strange that Tim has been his friend ever since 1st grade, or earlier. Tim finally acknowledges Don's abnormalities, and he agrees with my view of Don. But for some reason he has been friends with him for years, though he can hardly stand him many times. Tim probably feels a little sorry for Don, and since he is Don't best friend (although Don is not Tim's best friend) he doesn't want to tell Don to beat it. He has come close a couple of times to telling Don it's all over, but, being a softie, he never goes through with it. It's getting late, so I'll talk to you later. Bye!

June 12, 1979

I am 15.

Tuesday: Today I finally did something that I have been trying to do for years. I have finally succeeded in hypnotizing someone. I have known a technique that I have read in a couple of books, and this has been the first time that I have tried it. On Tim D. it has worked. It all started when Tim and I, who are best friends, started talking about his problem. Time has a problem with girls. Unless he really likes them, he can talk with them and get along nicely. But if there is a particular girl that he likes, he has problems talking to her. That is, until he met Chris. Chris is a girl who works at the gas station in Waterville where Tim works. As soon as they met, Time fell for her. Luckily he can talk to her easily, and he feels comfortable around her. Unfortunately, he cannot get the guts to call her to ask her out. This has been a problem since he was 11.

When he was 11, and in the 6th grade, Tim fell for a girl named Cathy D. Cathy liked him too, but waited for Tim to make the first move. Too bad for Tim, some other boy made the first move toward Cathy, and she accepted. This hurt Tim, but he was again broken when he saw her and her boyfriend at the ice arena. He said Hello, and Cathy started calling him names and being mean to him. This upset him for quite a bit. Ever since then, 6 years ago, Tim has never got the courage to be anything more than casual friends with a girl.

Tim does want to have a girlfriend, no mistake about that, but some fear has always held him back, to his vexation. Me and Don M. (who'll I'll tell you about later) have tried every argument, explanation, and threat possible to try to help Tim, but to no avail. Tim will simply not call a girl. Once he wrote a letter to one Elizabeth W., but nothing happened. That defeat there only worsened his phobia. Now that he's 17, this phobia is getting a little ridiculous.

Well, today Tim and I were discussing his problem, trying to find what caused it. I then hit upon the idea of hypnotizing him, to see if this would help. We had tried to hypnotize each other before, but with no success. This time, I used a different method. I placed Tim in a chair and had him stare up at a dot on the wall ahead of him. He had to raise his head slightly to stare at the dot, but his was purposeful, to get the neck muscles tired. As he concentrated on the dot, I talked quietly to him, to coach him to a trance. Soon his eyes were closed, so I began questioning him. I asked about his life from kindergarten to the present, but I could not find any clue to the origins of his phobia. I might have had success, but his sister Mary walked in the house and disturbed him. he told me that he was really under, and he looked it. He was aware of what was happening, but he kept getting deeper and deeper into his subconscious. I had to wait longer for an answer toward the end of the questioning. It took no longer than a half an hour, I think. He said he felt strange during it. I seem to be writing rather disorganized and incoherent sentences.

#1 album this week: Breakfast in America, by Supertramp

September 26, 1975

I am 12.

Friday: Today is the last day at camp so we we all have to get packed and ready. After breakfast and inspection we got all of our luggage in the bus and took the sack lunches the cooks made. It took a couple of hours to get home but I'm glad I'm home now although I miss camp a little. And that's the way it was, September 22-26, 1975. This is RM saying good night.

location: camp High Hope, Fremont, IN

September 25, 1975

I am 12.

Thursday: After inspection we went to the red room to see slides on conservation. We then went to work with the horses, we cleaned them but didn't get to ride them. After that we went to learn about compasses and it was pretty easy. We went down by the boys bunk to art and crafts where we worked with clay. I made a Tiger Tank and we had lots of fun. We then went to hidden lake to canoe by ourselves, my partner was JD and he did the steering but he wasn't very good because we kept running into other canoes but we still had fun. Then all of us ran to the horse ring to ride the horses but it turned out we had to be led so it wasn't much fun. I then went by the horse corral where they blindfolded us and took us into the woods where they dropped us off to feel around and use our other senses. After about a half an hour we got partners to lead us around to show us things and try to find out what it is without looking. We played some swedish until dinner. After dinner we played some more swedish and then we went to a big bonfire in the gravel pit where we sang songs, toasted marshmallows and had lots of fun. We went back to camp to tell ghost stories and while we were telling ghost stories one of the staff dressed up as the marsh monster and walked around camp with a torch but it didn't scare us, we went back to telling ghost stories when we heard a knock on the door. But it turned out to be some girls who were scared but we didn't let them in.

location: camp high hope, fremont, indiana

September 24, 1975

I am 12.

Wednesday: We woke up got ready for inspection and had breakfast and then we went to the gravel pit to learn about rocks. After that we went to the other gravel pit to look for rocks, we also experimented with acid on rocks. Then we went to the lake to see what lived in it. They gave us some nets to catch bugs but all we caught was a scitter bug. Then we went to dissect a frog, they showed us all the organs of the frog and it was really neat. We then went with another teacher to learn about trees. For lunch we had PIZZA! Then at night we had a find the teachers game, and it was a rotten game. The object of the game was to find the teachers in a field with a swamp in it at night with flashlights, but 8 people got lost and when they finally got home they went under 2 electrified fences and ended up in the sherif's house.

location: camp High Hope, Fremont, IN.

September 23, 1975

I am 12.

Tuesday: We all woke up about 45 min. early today so we had a long time to do nothing except to get ready for inspection, and boy did we get ready! For breakfast I had Frosted Flakes, toast, milk and orange juice. After breakfast we had inspection, and I was surprised to hear that the boys bunk was cleaner than the girls. After inspection we went on a 135 mile field trip to see different places. The first place was a lumber mill where Mr. Brown was telling us about trees. He told us about how much different trees are worth, about how trees are sawed and other things. After that we drove about 10 min. and then we came to Pohagen state park [Pokagon] where Mr. Brown led us into the forest and told us about how people are ruining the environment and how to use land properly. After that we went to Pigeon Creek Reserve where Mr. Brown told us about the laws of hunting and other things about hunting. We also saw the fetuses of deer in bottles, there were about 8 bottles. After that we went to the fish hatchery where trout were being hatched and fed the trout. When we looked in the fish tanks there must have been 300 fish in each tank. But before that we went to see the buffalo but we didn't get to see them much. We then went to Tawn Hatchery but all we saw were 2 ponds. At the dairy farm to see the cows being milked and see the newborn calves.

location: camp High Hope, Fremont, Indiana

September 22, 1975

I am 12.

Monday: We got there I think about 11:00, we then went to our bunks to unpack then for about an hour me and Greg O. didn't do much except look at the frogs and take pictures. We had rague and potato chips with peaches and cookies for desert. After that we went on a hike. We went to a couple of swamps to see what plants live there. We went into 2 gravel pits and some woods to see what lives there, while we were on the hike we saw a groundhog bump in the woods and some frogs in the pond. We learned a lot and had losta fun. I just came back from the horses, Mr. Brown was telling us all about how horses breed, their anatomy and class. Now I'm in my bunk writing this. For dinner we had steak and potatoes with beans, for dessert we had chocolate pudding.

location: camp High Hope, Fremont, Indiana

September 22, 1975 - U.S. President Gerald Ford survives a second assassination attempt, this time by Sara Jane Moore in San Francisco.