15 Day Blogger Challenge ~ Getting to Know the Blogger ~ Day 3

What's some of your favorite memories from childhood?

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Matriarchs

The women in my family are my most favorite memories. I was blessed with wonderful grandmothers and great-grandmothers. Because my mother had just turned eighteen years old before I was born, my older sister and I were fortunate enough to not only know all except for one of our natural grandparents but also know all of our great-grandparents. The one grandparent I never knew was my maternal grandfather, who passed away nine years before I was born. I love all my family members, but I learned so much from  the women in my family.

All of my grandmothers were endowed with a strength that I have driven myself to emulate. My great grandmothers were Thuller Othell (Collins) McGhee, Velma Twilight (Fraiser) Kinney, Stella Mae (Butler) Bartley, and Nancy May (Essary) White. Thuller was the mother of seven children, Roy Lee (Lee Roy), Letha, Alfred, Billy Ray, Doris Marie, Dean Wayne, and Mary. Lee Roy was my grandfather. From Thuller, one of my Irish grandmothers, I learned how to stand firm on principles and beliefs. Of the four great grandmothers, I feel I favor Thuller the most in my appearance.

What I remember the most about Velma Twilight, affectionately known as Granny Kinney, is the stories that she shared with me. Though I did not live close to Granny Kinney, we did write back and forth to one another over the years, and I treasure the pile of letters that I keep in my family tree album. I often pull the letters out and reread how my great-great grandfather was a cowboy that rode in cattle drives in Texas and New Mexico. I read how he lived during the civil war and was once mistaken as a renegade. Her letters spin stories of a family struggling to survive through the early 1900's and over the last hundred years. Velma also shared stories of how she raised her five Native American children, Novalee Ethel (my grandmother), Peggy Joyce, James Kenneth, Billy Lyndon, and Patricia Ann. From Velma, I learned how to document the history of my family, and how important stories of the past are to helping people understand their culture and where they come from.

I also learned a lot about my ancestry from Nancy May. As a child, I would sit at her feet and listen to stories as her tiny body rocked in her rocking chair. She spoke of working in a speak easy in the 1920's, working in the cotton fields, and being the mother of her nine children: William Thelon, Minnie Lee, Benjamin Franklin, Emery Alvin, Katherine May, Lorene Ann, Mary Francis (my grandmother), Harvey Chester, and Flossie Marie. Grandma White also told me stories of  how it was like growing up as a Native American in a white man's world. Some stories were somber and made me think about who I am and where I belong in this world. From Grandma White, I learned that the world can be a tough place to live, and how I need to walk strong in the world. I also learned from her that we are not only mind and body but also soul. I learned that family is bonded together in a manner that is difficult for many to understand. I, like her, can sense when a family member needs me, and how to give them a strong shoulder to cry on.

Strength is the definition of my Grandma Bartley, Stella Mae. She was the toughest Irish woman I have ever known. I think she had to be tough raising three rough and rowdy boys, Clyde, John Cleveland (J.C. my grandfather), and Clyde. I remember Grandma Bartley more than I remember my other great-grandmothers. Perhaps, this is due to the consistent contact I had with her. She and I attended church together, and I spent time alone with her after. We trampled together in the fields picking black eyed peas and shucking them on her back porch. She still had one of the early washing machines with the hand cranked rollers to squeeze the water from the clothes. Grandma Bartley always had a garden that required tending, and I loved eating the fresh fruits and vegetables that grew there. This woman would take off under the house to fix her own plumbing while well into her nineties. From her I learned pure determination and that the power of the world was mine if I wanted it. Grandma Bartley's strength was unmeasurable, as she had to grow the tough exterior after losing two of her children, J.C. and Clyde, at a young age.

My grandmother, Novalee, also had a tough exterior that she had developed throughout the years. She was the mother of nine children, Lynda Ann, Brenda Carol, David LeeRoy (Daddy), Susan Lavonda, Anthony Darryll, Aaron Glenn, Jana Renae, Mark Edward, and Melonie Lynette. Granny was the hard working Native American grandmother that spent her life working in truck stops as both a cook and a waitress. I remember watching Granny take care of her customers, who were often regulars, as she made sure that they were happy. Granny always had a smile on her face, and I cannot remember ever seeing her unhappy. She was dedicated and devoted to my grandfather and loved both him and her children intensely. And, this is what I learned from her. I learned that love is everlasting, and people can die of a broken heart, as she passed away less than a month after we lost her love.

Love emanates from the very atmosphere surrounding my Grandma Kierepka. Of each grandmother, she is the one grandmother I still have with me. My memories of Grandma are infinite, but I remember the songs the most. My grandmother would dance through the house and sing, though off-key, feeling the air of her home with happiness and joy. She taught me how to dance, and we would jitterbug throughout her house. Grandma's laugh is infectious. She is the poet and artist, and from her I learned how to infuse my words and art with power. I can honestly say that Grandma Kierepaka is one of my best friends, and having her living so far away, now, is very difficult on both my boys and me. Grandma taught me that money does not make happiness, and happiness comes from love and family.

I love each of my grandmothers very much. Although Grandma Kierepka is the only grandmother that I still have with me, I carry all of my grandmothers in my very heart and soul. They are my strength and power, my creativity and discipline, and my heart and soul. From each grandmother, I learned how to be a woman and what a woman was meant to be, which is why I feel that my best childhood memories stem from my relationship with each of them.

15 Day Blogger Challenge ~ Getting to Know the Blogger ~ Day 2

Where did you grow up? Small town or Big City?

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I could tell you a thousand lies about where I grew up, but I do not feel that I should try to deceive you. Therefore, I will tell you the truth. Most of the time, I feel that I grew up in the depths of hell, but there are other times, I feel that I grew up in a happy place.

The fact of the matter is that I grew up in a very small town deep in the heart of Texas. As a child, the town had a resident population of approximately 2,500 people, and I knew each and every one. Although we were only 2,500 strong, we were the county seat and the largest town for 60 miles south, 92 miles west, and 100 miles north, much further east. I lived in a smaller town 10 miles to the west when I was first born, but I was born in the county seat and spent most of my childhood there.

I am a great-great grandchild to two of the three original families that settled the town. The three Irish families took a wagon train from Ohio to Texas in 1848. As a child, I was kin to most of the residents in the town one way or another. For a matter-of-fact, I believe I am kin to half of the county now.

The area I grew up in is a farm area with some oil field work. There were three types of people in my small town. 1. Those who worked the farms and owned the farms. 2. Those who worked in the oilfield. 3. Those who worked in the local stores and businesses. My father started off working the farms with his father as a child. They were day laborers, not farm owners. However, he went to work in the oil field when he became an adult, and he never went back to farm work.

The wealthier children in school were children of farm owners or business owners, most of which were related to farm owners. The rest of the town lived at or below the poverty line. I grew up being called oilfield trash, white trash, and many other hateful words. I would sit in the corner crying because the boys in my school could be so cruel. Most of the girls were nice regardless of their socio-economic status. One boy, in particular, teased me on a daily basis. His family happened to be one of the wealthiest farm families in the region. Everyday, this boy called me oilfield trash, and every day, from kindergarten to sixth grade, I cried.

Because our school was guilty of tracking the students, I was in class with my nemesis every single year. In sixth grade, I started thinking about how miserable the boy had made my school career, and I grew tired of the constant torment. He walked by my desk, knocked my book in the floor and bent over to call me "oilfield trash" as he picked up my book. The book was an excuse to get on my level, so I would hear the degrading insult. The picking the book up was so the other students and teacher were unaware that he was actually being mean. I stood up from my desk and yelled, "If it wasn't for people like my dad, your family would still be using horse driven plows!"

I was immediately sent to the principal's office and disciplined by paddling for disrupting the class. The boy did not stop teasing me, but I did not let him bother me as much as I had before sixth grade. That was up until tenth grade when I was punished after slapping him for calling my sister crazy and my mother a whore. I knew that my sister had mental issues, but I did not understand them. Often, I would be the first to call her crazy because I was not educated on bipolar disorder, and I truly believed that she was able to control her actions and her behaviors. I know now that she could not.

As for my mother, my father and she had split up. This was no surprise to any of us that knew my parents. They had always argued and fought with one another. They did eventually get back together, and they never stopped loving one another. They just needed time apart as they had been married when my mother was still a child, 16 years old. Rest assured, my mother was not a whore. She was a nursing student working hard doing her internship in the next town over.

Anyway, I did love my town too. I loved that I could go anywhere, and I was not a stranger. I loved that I could walk from one end of town to the other in twenty minutes. I loved that all of my grandparents lived in the area, and I could see them whenever I wanted to. I loved that when I wanted to run away, Grandma's house was not that far to walk. I loved that I could go swimming at the local pool every day except for Monday during the summers. I loved that there were so many neighbors willing to allow me to do odd jobs and babysit their children for a little extra money. I loved that no matter where I went, I felt safe. I loved my school most of all.

Although I had the bullying throughout the years, most of my peers were nice to me. Most of us were raised together. We would take turns hanging out with one another, and we would take turns throwing slumber parties. I was never as cool as the other girls because I was one of the biggest nerds in the school. I loved creative writing, and I loved math. Numbers and computers were what I got, and I often understood them more than human nature. I actually received awards for my math and computer skills. I was a band geek and became the drum major my senior year of high school. I was in the district band and regional band, and I often received medals in UIL band competitions. I was also the president of the pep squad, played basketball, and ran track. I never took homemaking, as I was in 4-H and learned how to cook and sew there. I took shop class my senior year and built my father a wooden tool box. I competed yearly in the talent shows and was often cast a leading role in plays due to my memorization skills. I think the best thing about going to a small school is that the students get the opportunity to try everything that they want, so they can truly know their individual talents and abilities.

Every year, my town put on the Wild Horse Pioneer Days. We would ride horses in the parade and join in the rodeo festivities including the dances. I love to dance and had been attending local dances since I was a little girl. I looked forward to the yearly fair and competed in the fair queen contest throughout my high school years. Our town was really big on parades as well. We had a parade for the Wild Horse Pioneer Days, a parade for the fair, and a parade for Christmas. I, of course, was in each parade because of band, GA's, 4-H, Girl Scouts, or the church choir. One year, I rode on a friend's float for her mother's local western store.

Every Saturday between Thanksgiving and Christmas, a stranger to town would swear they were in the middle of a Shirley Jackson story had they driven through the downtown area of town. Every resident would be crowded into the street for the grocery store drawings. They gave out cash prizes and gift certificates for local stores. If you shopped in the small grocery store, you would receive a ticket for every so many dollars you spent. We would chase after the people handing out free hard candies and climb upon Santa's lap to fill his head full of our wishes and dreams. Afterwards, we would return to our heated homes, or travel sixty miles south to the 'big city' (I often laugh when I think about how big the city was when I was a child. I know, now, that the 'big city' really is not that big. It is where I live and am raising my children.)

What I liked about my home town, I hated as well. It was small. I could not do anything without anyone knowing about it. The children, young adults, and adults in the town do not seem to have any privacy, as many people gossip, spread rumors, and make your business their business. As I grew older, I grew to yearn to be free of the pain and sorrow that stifled me.  I have visited my hometown on many occasions since I left it behind 23 years ago. I only attended one homecoming game, as it was made quite clear to me by a couple of my old classmates that I no longer belonged there.

I did move from the town in the middle of my senior year. It was no choice of my own. My mom was ill and in the hospital, and there was no money for the rent. We had been evicted from our apartment, and the only place I had to go was my father's home almost 100 miles west. I am sad to say that I no longer fee that the town I was born and raised in I no longer consider my home. Most of my family members have moved far, far way, and there does not seem to be anything in that tiny Texas town for me anymore.

15 Day Blogger Challenge ~ Getting to Know the Blogger ~ Day 1

15 Day Blogger Challenge - Getting to Know the Blogger

This challenge is open to any and everyone who wants to get to know each other a little better in the blogosphere. I encourage you all to make this challenge your own. There is no special format to follow or rules on posting. Do your challenge in 1 day by answering all the questions at once or do it in 90 days. Just have fun!

Challenge Questions:

1. Introduction to this Challenge and tell us a little about yourself!
2. Where did you grow up? Small town or Big City?
3. What's some of your favorite memories from childhood?
4. What type of student were you in school?
5. Who was your closest friends as a teenager?
6. Where have you worked?
7. Has your life gone the way you expected it?
8. Tell us a bit about your family!
9. What are your goals? What are your hobbies?
10. Why did you start blogging and what is your blog about?
11. What are a couple of your favorite blog tools that you use?
12. Your top 5 posts and why you think they were successful.
13. 3 blogs you visit and read enthusiastically.
14. Social Networks/Blog Communities you want others to know you're a part of.
15. Closing and any upcoming posts or raffles you would like to share with us.

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Who Am I?

I am Damien and Dylan's mom. I am their buddy, their pal, their confidant, their disciplinarian. I am the person who bathed them, fed them, and powdered their bottoms. I am the person that they depended on for survival. I am the person that taught them how to walk, talk, and use the toilet. I am their advocate, and I helped them learn to stand up for themselves in times when backing down would be much, much easier. I am the person who has prepared them to leap from the nest every now and again before the day that will come when they leap just once more down their own paths and adventures. And, then, I will still be their mom, but lacking in their company and the endless responsibilities that consume my every day.

I am Darren's wife. I am his best friend, his balance, his equal, his intimate. I am committed to my life with him and bathe him in ceaseless doting. I am his lover, and together we reach the heights of passion and ecstasy and delve to the depths of the abyss in which to drown our sorrows. Together we share our thoughts, ideals, minds, values. I am the person that taught him not to fear love and how to trust. I am honest in my opinions and share with him even though we may not agree. I am his steadfast, loyal, devoted companion. I give him space when needed and join with him in our conquests of the obstacles in our lives. Together we are one power, but in his absence, I am still whole.

I am a daughter, a sister, a niece, an aunt, a granddaughter, and a friend. I confide, disclose, declare, confess. I am the person that will listen when an ear is needed. I use my words when advice is warranted. I am vigilant in my assertions and gentle in my opinions. I am a shoulder on which to cry and in need of a shoulder every now and again. I love, hold, cry, and remember. I am a caretaker, a friend, a master chef, and the life of the party. I am a wallflower drawn down in a corner and the nut hiding deep within its shell. I am just like the others and not like anyone else.

I am part of the people that permeate my innermost circles, and they a part of me. I carry them with me as I traverse my rocky path. At times they are the rocks on which I stub my toe, and others I am the sharp burr that penetrates their skin, but together concessions are made, and we smooth to tranquil pebbles, cool against the skin. I am a pocket of pebbles smoothed throughout the years. I learn and grow because of them and despite of them. I change, for I am malleable, complaisant, rebellious, consistent, erratic. I am common and conventional, embellished in my liberal eccentricities. I am a walking contradiction, a conformed antithesis to myself.

But, who am I?

The things that define me are the things that constrain me, as well as the things that allow me to run free. I am spiritual, one with nature, one against nature. I am a thinker, a student, a teacher, a philosopher.  I am rambunctious. I am meek. I am alone, surrounded by those who love me. I want only peace, harmony, love. I want love. I want love. I want love. I am at odds with myself.

But, who am I?

I am an entity filling space amongst atoms sitting upon atoms bound by a tiny charge. I am protons and electrons floating through air. I am flesh and blood with a heart that beats spreading the life-force throughout my limbs. I am the breath that rides upon the wind, without which I will cease. I am a stockpile of minerals that consume Earth, and to minerals, I will return. I am millions of cells held together by tissue bonds. I am a DNA code unique to myself. I am a collection of electrical impulses jumping from synapse to receptor. I am ideas, notions, impressions, feelings, judgments dangling from each dendrite in hopes of being noticed before lost forever. I am the neuron that charges every movement.

I am the frontal lobe, emotional, unpredictable, convergent. I am upper management and a disheveled mess. I am a wordsmith, a scribe, a pencil pusher. I am the parietal lobe, clumsy, awkward, graceful, elegant, steady, strong. I am the assemblage of all I see, perceive, catch from the corner of my eye. I am all that I hear and all that I am deaf to, the low hum of the world around me that I have long forgotten. I consist of every song, every word, every thought, every smell, every touch that has invaded my every sense. I am a multitude of memories, hopes, dreams, fantasies, realities. I am every award, every achievement, every goal conquered. I am every mistake I ever made.

But, who am I?

I honestly do not believe I can tell you, for I cannot even tell myself. The best I can say is that I am me.

Mrs. Lawrence Exeter’s Diary

August 30, 1903

Lawrence finally took me to the new baby store in town. He was so concerned about having me out in public in my ‘frail’ condition. However, he has been promising me for months and I convinced him if we did not go to the Goosie Gander Baby Shoppe soon, we would have to prepare one of the bureau drawers for the baby to sleep in. I was so excited to go. Lawrence helped me pick out the perfect layette, baby furniture, and Christening gown for the baby.

September 2, 1903

I am so excited that to be going home with the new baby today. I have been in here far too long, and the food in the cafeteria is not to be desired. We have yet to name our beautiful son, but I feel he should be named for his father. I haven’t much time to write because I must prepare to leave.

October 3, 1903

Dr. McCoy visited us today for my check-up and the check-up of little Lawrence Exeter, Jr. Dr. McCoy said Lawrence is a very healthy little boy, and I couldn’t be happier. As for me, Dr. McCoy is concerned about my health. He says I look seriously fatigued. Although I tried to convince him that I am just fine, Dr. McCoy gave me a vitamin elixir to supplement my diet in hopes that I feel better.

December 19, 1903

I swear my husband bought out the toy store today. He came home from the California Toyland Company with a cart full of boxes for Lawrence, Jr. I am so worried that my husband will spoil my little boy.

October 6, 1909

I had forgotten about my journal over the years. I guess little Lawrence has been keeping me too busy to write. I should have plenty of time to write now that my darling son will be going to school. Lawrence says that I have taught little Lawrence all I can at home, that it is time for him to go and learn how to be a respectable young man. I expect I will be quite lonely without little Larry around. Perhaps I will join the ladies auxiliary.

April 18, 1910

The snows have melted and Spring has rolled in at full force. The grass is green and the birds are singing. Today, I convinced Lawrence to by little Larry a bike to ride. Larry was telling me that just the other day his friend Alex got his first bicycle and they want to learn to ride bikes together. I think it is good that Larry is making friends.

August 26, 1915

It has been five years since my last journal entry. Larry has been keeping me on my toes. Just the other day, he and his friend Alex got into another fight at their school. They have both been permanently suspended from the school. In hopes that Larry will grow into the nice, well-rounded young man Lawrence and I wish him to become, we have decided to send him to the Columbia Military Academy. My heart is conflicted, but I know this is what is best for my young son.

September 3, 1921

Happy days, happy days! Young Larry has graduated from the military academy with honors. He plans on applying to Stanford University. Lawrence and I went to the Hollywood Cadillac Company this morning and put almost $4000 on a brand new Cadillac for our son. Larry should arrive home from school this weekend. He had agreed to help the Headmaster close the school for the break.

September 7, 1921

I have never been so scared in my entire life. Larry and his old pal Alex were out drinking to celebrate their newfound freedom. Larry took a corner too fast and flew headlong into a tree. I praise the Lord that both boys are fine, they just have a few bumps and bruises. Needless to say, Lawrence was none to happy when he got the bill from the Wilshire Auto Repair Service. It looks as if Larry will have to work off his debt to his father.

October 15, 1921

Larry is off to school today. I am glad he was accepted into Stanford. Alex will not be going to school there, so hopefully Larry will stay focused on his studies.

June 1, 1923

Larry has gotten himself in a bit of trouble. He has gotten mixed up with a young flapper that has told us she is with child, Larry’s child. Daisy says she has always aspired to be a famous Parisian dancer. Therefore, Lawrence and I have decided to offer her a sum of money to keep scandal from the Exeter name, travel on the exclusive French line, and an additional sum of money to be waiting for Miss Windsor upon the birth of her child. Daisy was so willing to take the money that I can see there must have been no serious feelings between our son and her. I know that Larry is quite smitten with her though. I am afraid that her departure will break his heart. I hope we have made the right decision for our son, and he will find love once again. Lord, forgive us for what we have done.

February 13, 1926

It has been three long years since Miss Windsor has left. She sent one letter after her departure informing us that she had given the child to a well to do Parisian family to raise. It seems the new mother, a wife of a doctor, was barren and could have no children of her own. I am glad that the baby is with a good family.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, and Larry is truly in love with a beautiful young woman. He has been seeing her for several months and asked his father if he could put some flowers on our tab at University Club for the young girl. I hope this girl is a keeper. She seems to be and comes from a very good family.

June 24, 1926

I am going to have a daughter-in-law! Two days ago Larry asked his girl to become Mrs. Lawrence Exeter, Jr., and Marie accepted. There is so much planning to do. I hope they waste no time having children. I look forward to being a grandmother soon.

August 11, 1926

As a wedding gift to the young couple, Lawrence and I purchased a newly built home for them in the trendy Riviera Heights. It will be close enough that I can visit often, but far enough away that Larry does not feel we are crowding them. Another reason we chose this area is that the location is right in-between Larry’s future in-laws and us. It is a beautiful house. I hope they like it.

October 30, 1926

Marie and I visited with the interior decorators today. We picked out all of the new and trendy décor for their future home. There will be marble tile in the entry way and imported hand carved mahogany accents throughout the home, including the banister and mantle piece. The house will be beautiful. I just hope it is finished before the wedding.

November 18, 1926

Lawrence took our son to the Beverly Diamond and Gift Shoppe this morning to pick up the custom made wedding set. Oh, the set is beautiful. Marie will be very happy. In just a few more days she will be my daughter-in-law, and I couldn’t be happy. We have become close since I first met her. I am sorry that I ever had my doubts about the young girl.

November 20, 1926

Larry, Lawrence, and I were at the Hawaii Steamship Company picking up the tickets for Larry and Marie’s honeymoon. From the back of the room, a young man yelled hello to Larry. It seems his old friend Alex has acquired a job as manager of the steamship company. Larry invited Alex and his wife to the wedding. I hope that Larry’s judgment is not clouded as it had been in the past while dealing with Alex. I should not judge; after all, Alex seems to be doing well for himself.

November 21, 1926

Larry was out late last night with his friend Alex. I was afraid this would happen. This morning, it seems, Larry has suddenly gotten cold feet. His father has offered Larry a substantial sum of money to convince him to keep his commitment. We have been talking to Larry all day about how important it is to both Larry and Marie that this commitment is seen through to the end. Hopefully, the money has convinced Larry to keep from shaming the Exeter name.

November 22, 1926

I am so glad that Larry has come to his senses. Alex must have known that we were upset with him because he did not show up to the wedding. Therefore, the wedding ceremony went off without a hitch. I am so happy that Marie is now part of our family. She is a wonderful addition to the Exeter name. The wedding ceremony was beautiful and lavish. Marie’s family spared no expense. The couple will be staying in the Ambassador Hotel before they leave for their Hawaiian honeymoon. Lawrence and I had rented the top two floors for the wedding party as well.

December 1, 1926

Lawrence and I decided that we would adorn Larry and Marie’s house with fresh cut flowers since the couple will be arriving to their new home for the first time today. We filled the home with lilies and roses, Marie’s favorite flowers. Lawrence also has decided to allow Larry to take over the business finances now that he is a responsible young man. I hope it is not too much responsibility too fast.

February 18, 1927

Marie and I had lunch today. She told me that Larry has joined the Coconut Grove Sweat Shoppe today. Apparently, it is one of those new and trendy health clubs. Marie said that Larry pays someone to lock his body in what they call a sweatbox. Only Larry’s head can be seen when he is in the box. It sounds like one of the most ridiculous ways to spend one’s money I think, but who am I to judge? I feel I am becoming out of touch with this younger generation.

July 16, 1927

Marie’s family held their annual Summer Ball today. Larry bought Marie the most beautiful canary yellow gown I have ever seen. He said the gown was imported to the Parisian Gown Shoppe directly from Paris. We all had such a wonderful time.

December 1, 1927

Marie and I went shopping today for new lingerie. She took me to this new lingerie salon, where they offer beauty treatments as well as the latest Parisian lingerie. The salon is owned my Marie’s friend Anita Wharton. I would have never thought that a woman would feel comfortable running a business like this, but I guess I am from a different generation. In my time, women did not run business; they stayed home and tended their families, as they rightfully should.

April 1, 1928

We attended the April Fool’s Day Ball with Larry, Marie, and Marie’s family. Marie was gorgeous, as usual, in her beautiful Parisian gown. This one was an apricot color, which made Marie look fair and glowing. I am not sure, but the young couple seemed more distant than usual this evening. I noticed they hardly spoke to one another and failed to dance with one another. I hope it is just one of those little bumps in the road all married couples run into when discovering marital bliss.

November 1, 1928

I overheard Larry speaking to his father about Marie’s spending. It seems my son had to pay a pretty hefty bill Marie had run up to a place called the Moderme Epostle Shoppe. I was glad to see my son, but his demeanor while speaking about Marie is disheartening. We do not see Larry often, and I have not seen Marie since the April Fool’s Ball. I hope the couple can work things out. I really have my heart set on being a grandmother, and would hate to see the failure of Larry and Marie’s marriage to sully the Exeter name.

July 2, 1929

Marie came to see me today. I was taken back from her visit, for he has not been to visit our home since Christmas. When we come to visit, she is otherwise occupied and does not come down stairs to visit. Marie apologized for her behavior. She explained that her failure to be with child has driven a wedge between herself and Larry. Marie told me that she has been depressed since the doctor suggested that she might be barren. The poor girl cried as she let slip a devastating accusation. Marie said her friend Anita’s lingerie shop is located across the street from The Bootery, a woman’s shoe store. Apparently, Anita informed Marie that Larry was seen going into the store yesterday and leaving with a gift-wrapped package. When Marie did not receive the package, she began to feel that the shoes were bought for some other woman. I truly hope she is wrong.

August 23, 1929

Larry came to visit his father behind closed doors this morning. Soon after their private discussion with one another, a young man named Hans Jungen arrived. He joined Larry and Lawrence in the study and had a lengthy heated discussion behind closed doors. I could not make out what they were speaking of, so I continued to work on my needlepoint by the window. The discussion quietened down, and the young man left the house with a smile on his face.

August 30, 1929

Hans Jungen came to the house again today. He said he was to meet Lawrence and Larry at one o’clock. I informed the young man that he was early, and the gentlemen had not arrived yet. I looked at this time as an opportunity to get to the bottom of this. I asked young Hans what his occupation was. He informed me that he was a private investigator. I was instantly intrigued, for I had never met a private investigator. I asked the man what the nature of his visit was, and he informed me he was not inclined to divulge that information to me. I was astounded that the young man would treat me in such a manner in my own home.

May 26, 1930

Marie came to me today, just as distraught as she was last July. It seems that Larry and Alex were seen buying flowers at the University Club Florists. At first I was confused as to why this was upsetting to Marie, then she said that she received no flowers from Larry the day before. I convinced her that Larry must have been carrying flowers for Alex to take to his wife. She reluctantly accepted my suggestion and returned home. I am, however, very worried about the mysterious circumstances surrounding my family.

May 28, 1930

Larry came to visit beaming from ear to ear. He said he had wonderful news for us. I was instantly excited that Marie must be with child. Unfortunately, that is not the case. It seems that Larry has asked a Miss Geniveve Widson to marry him. He does not seem to remember that he is still married to Marie. I asked Larry about his marriage, and he told me that he and Marie do not talk very much any more. He said that he plans to divorce Marie so that he can begin his life with Miss Widson.

November 13, 1930

Lawrence told me that Larry gave a large sum of money to Miss Widson today since she has no dowry of her own. It seems the young girl comes from a disreputable family.  Larry swears they were fairly well off until the stock market crash last year. I have failed to put much stock in what Larry says anymore. Since he had moved out of his home with Susan, Larry looks unkempt and unhealthy. I fear he is taking too many medication prescribed by his doctor.

November 14, 1930

Lawrence and I went with Larry to see our lawyer Mr. Wall. Larry paid for his retainer, and we made sure that they knew what kind of divorce decree would be acceptable. Larry will be sending Marie some money tomorrow to secure her living expenses for the next several months. I hope this mess does not bring too much same to the family.

June 20, 1931

It has been a long day, but I am glad we can finally put this mess behind us. Larry and Marie met with the judge today. Larry was ordered to pay Marie a sum of one hundred and seventy five dollars for a settlement. Because of Larry’s infidelities, he was also ordered to pay the court fees, his lawyer’s fees, and Marie’s lawyer’s fees. Of course, Marie had the finest lawyers in the county to represent her. I know the judge and Mr. Walker, Sr. are close friends and feel the judge may have been biased in his decision. I should say something, but I am ready to get this all behind us.

July 2, 1931

Hans Jungen was at our home again yesterday. I have seen him since before Larry’s announcement of his engagement to Geniveve. I was quite surprised to see Hans back at our home this morning. Larry was arrived soon after, wrote Hans a check, and escorted him out of the door. I asked Larry if Hans had been blackmailing him when we saw him last, and if he were blackmailing him again. Larry told me that he gets so tempted when he and Alex are out on the town, and he acts in a manner that is not normal for him. He said not to worry, that his new bride is not the least bit suspicious.

July 4, 1931

Geniveve came to visit me today. She said that Larry had not arrived home since he left with a Mr. Peter Williams last night. Geniveve told me that she went to Alex and Andrea’s home to see if they had heard from Larry. Andrea informed Geniveve that Alex no long goes out with Larry since Larry had taken him to an opium bar. Andrea accused Larry of being a bad influence and said that he has been “chasing the dragon” for quite a while.

July 5, 1931

Larry was found by a peace officer half-dead in the alley of a disreputable part of town. We checked him into the Hollywood Hospital that he was born. Dr. McCoy says it is a wait and see game that we must play. The next few hours are crucial. I pray to God that my son will be fine.

July 15, 1931

It has been ten days since Larry entered the hospital. He looks much better than when we brought him in. Geniveve and I met with Dr. McCoy this morning. He notified us that Larry is not out of the woods yet. He said that Larry just does not seem to be gaining weight the way he should. Dr. McCoy is worried that Larry has lost his will to live.

July 16, 1931

I blame myself for Larry’s death. I thought he had gotten over Daisy years ago. It seemed that his life was back on track after Daisy’s departure to France. Larry told me last night that he never got over losing Daisy and his son. His last words to me were, “Tell them I love them. I always have, and I always will.” Geniveve cringed when Larry spoke the words, and she cried as she turned and walked out of the door. Geniveve does not plan to attend the funeral. Lawrence and I made the arrangements this morning. I don’t think anything could ever prepare me of the loss of my son. I pray that God forgive Larry for how he had chosen to live his life, and may God forgive me for planting the seed that inevitably poisoned my son’s heart and eventually took his life.

Who Is Alice?

The novel, Go Ask Alice edited by Beatrice (Mathews) Sparks leaves one to ponder, “who is Alice?” Is she a real teen, a combination of many of Sparks’ clients, or is she just an updated version of Lewis Carroll’s Alice In Wonderland? This novel tells the reader they are reading the diary of an anonymous teenaged girl, but critics are skeptical. These questions are just a few of the many controversial questions surrounding the book, and are the few questions to be addressed here.

First, the editor Beatrice Sparks is the center of much debate. Sparks is a writer, who had her first book, Key to Happiness, published in 1967 after being a youth counselor for twelve years. Sparks states, “Since 1955 I have been working with kids who have problems. I have found them at Utah State Mental Hospital, at Brigham Young University, and at seminars and youth conferences.” Therefore, before the publication of the book, Sparks heard many stories which she would be able to draw from in order to create the characters and plots of her so-called diaries. One major flaw in Go Ask Alice is the insightfulness of this fifteen to seventeen year old. For instance, Alice writes in her diary, “But real friendship can’t be built on sympathy and a hanging-on to someone just to keep from drowning. It has to be built on mutual likes and abilities, and, yes, even backgrounds.” So, are these words the words of a teenager or the words of Sparks herself? Furthermore, it is highly unlikely that every single cliché about drug use happened to this one girl in such a short period of time. It is also unlikely that a drug user would be so elegant in her story telling or coherent enough the very next day to share such a vivid picture. Even more unusual is that the young girl remembers all of the events that happened while using the drugs. It seems that Sparks has taken many different stories from many different young drug users and piled them into one solitary young woman.

Second, it seems the title, Go Ask Alice has come from the 1967 Jefferson Airplane song, “White Rabbit.” The song was in the minds of most teenagers in 1971 due to its popularity. Few people however, fail to look at the copyright page of the book, which states, “The title of Go Ask Alice taken from “White Rabbit,” written by Grace slick.” Not only is the title of the novel the same as the fifth line of the song, but also a few similarities between the song and the novel can be found. The song starts out with, “One pill makes you larger / And one pill makes you small / And the ones that mother gives you / Don’t do anything at all” (lines 1-4). Similarly, our protagonist, Alice divulges to her diary that doing drugs makes her feel uninhibited to the point that she danced around the room. It seems that this drug has made Alice feel large. Likewise, LSD has made Alice feel small. Although she feels she is part of everything, she could not hold on to the “true thing” she had found (Sparks, 32). Alice states that she “couldn’t talk at all and slumped back onto the floor” (Sparks, 33). Later Alice states the tranquilizers that her mother takes her to get do nothing for her. For a matter of fact, Alice writes that she must take two or three of the tranquilizers in order to feel any effect. Considering there are many similarities between the protagonist of the book and the Jefferson Airplane song, it was wise for Sparks to use Go Ask Alice as the title. The title helped the book draw attention, boost sales, and continue to attract readers.

Since the Alice in “White Rabbit” was based on Lewis Carroll’s novel Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, it is possible that Sparks’ Alice is based on the novel as well. It seems there are a few similarities between the two characters as well. In Carroll’s book, Alice states, “I wonder if I’ve changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different… Who in the world am I?” (10). Alice seems to be going through an identity crisis, which is a common feeling of many youngsters. Similarly, Sparks’ Alice seems to not be very secure in her identity. She writes, “Even now I’m not really sure which parts of myself are real and which parts are things I’ve gotten from books” (Sparks, 5). Interestingly enough, Sparks’ Alice compares herself to Carroll’s protagonist and questions whether or not it is possible that “Lewis G. Carroll was on drugs too” (36). Other similarities include Alice’s first time to be slipped LSD. She is at first frightened and thinks that she is being poisoned. Before Carroll’s Alice drinks from the first bottle, she inspects the bottle to make sure it is not poisoned. Both characters continue to follow along with the crowd so that they fit in. In addition, both characters have an undeniable need for companionship due to their loneliness. Toward the end of both books, the girls decide that they will share what they have learned with others. Carroll’s Alice decides she will tell her stories to her grandchildren, and Sparks’ Alice decides that she does not need her diary anymore. She feels if she ever needs to share her stories, thoughts, or experiences, she will be able to share them with her friends and family.

Regardless of the many similarities between the novels, as well as discrepancies in Go Ask Alice, the novel is appropriate for a young adult audience. Remembering back to the first time I read the novel, I thought I was reading a true story. Of course, I was part of the intended audience at that time. The novel helped me to understand that the drug scene was frightening, and not something that I wanted to be a part of. The protagonist is one that many young women can relate to. Like many women her age, Alice is having trouble finding her place in society. She makes some bad choices, and struggles with her family. Alice is an average student that did not set out to end up dieing at such a young age. So, again I ask who is Alice? There is a bit of Alice in all young women. The novel is packed full of stereotypical teenage problems that every female reader can relate to at one point or another. It is, however, important for everyone to remember Alice is a fictional character. The proof is given on the copyright page of the book, which states, “This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to the actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.” This leads to another important question. If Go Ask Alice is fictitious, who is the author? Beatrice Sparks is the only person with the answer, and she is not telling. No matter who Alice is, though controversial, the book has been well received.

Works Cited

Carroll, Lewis. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass. New York: Bantam Dell, 1981.

Contemporary Authors Online. “Beatrice (Mathews) Sparks.” Thomson Gale. 2005.

Jefferson Airplane. “White Rabbit.” By Grace Slick. Surrealistic Pillow. Copper Penny Music. 1967.

Sparks, Beatrice. Ed. Go Ask Alice. New York: Simon Pulse, 2006.