Richard Daybell – Novels, stories and short humor
I never kept a diary. I always (and I’m ashamed of this) thought it was just for girls to write sissy, mushy, girly stuff in. I’m sorry now that I didn’t keep a diary. I now know that I wouldn’t have written sissy, mushy, girly stuff in it. I would have written whatever the opposite of that is.
And today I would urge everyone – girl, boy, whatever – to start keeping a diary on the day they are born (although they may need help holding the pen early on). It doesn’t need to be sensational, smarmy or titillating. Just record things that are happening so that later – like now – when your mind is getting just a little bit foggy on history (the Norman invasion, the Emancipation Proclamation, second grade) you can goose your memory.
Wouldn’t it be magic to be able to look back at September 26, 1954, and find out that you had meatloaf, mashed potatoes and canned corn for dinner and that you watched Hopalong Cassidy on TV and that the girl next door let you touch her penny loafers?
It’s not that I’m that I’m trying to relive my past — it’s material, people, material. So lacking a diary, I’ve decided to reconstruct one. Given my memory, I may have to make some things up — oh, that would make it a memoir, wouldn’t it.
“The horror of that moment,” the King went on, “I shall never, never forget.” “You will, though,” the Queen said, “if you don’t make a memorandum of it.” – Lewis Carroll, Through the Looking Glass
Did you keep a diary? Did you start off each entry with Dear Diary? Did you write any improper things in it? Are you going to share them with us? C’mon, open up.