More of December’s Journal; 1974

December 18, 1974
At my desk upstairs, looking out at the creek with its white ruffles. The world seems compressed, composed of green and gray. Only a few tiny dots of yellow save it from total sobriety—it’s like a pheasant hen—somber color etched against the sky, or perhaps like a Quaker at prayer. I had planned a walk, and had even taken my jacket from the closet, when a sudden wind sprang up, tossing branches and leaves in an invisible surf. I left my ambition at the door and napped instead.
I hate feeling tired. I stay up until 11 or 12 and then suffer from want of sleep at 7. I miss my accustomed energy and would be resentful if it didn’t require additional effort.
Later: bearding the lion in his den for all the good it will do.
December 20, 1974
I have a fire going, music playing. The cats are fed, and coffee is at my elbow.
Last night I again imagined I would take Nush to the woods, but a look at the weather has changed my mind. Rain and periodic wind gusts—not the invigorating kind that makes you wild to run, but the sort that unpleasantly splatters rain on your face.
Will bake candy cane cookies and get Paige and PJ to do one household chore each since they’re staying home from school.
Yesterday, Nelson Rockefeller was sworn in as vice-president after Agnew’s disgraceful exit. Saw it on TV and was surprised to see he held his pen between his middle fingers when he signed his oath of office. Have never seen anyone write like that before. We now have a president and vice president who were not elected. Thinking of ancient Rome and how precedence was broken when Julius Caesar was asked to be dictator. While Ford is hardly that, it’s a definite change in business as usual and may begin a long spiral downward.
The children sleep beside the tree. This is traditional and I’m glad they haven’t outgrown it. The tree is lovely with glass balls, curious ornaments, “gingerbread men,” and ginger houses, tinsel and light strings. Christmas lights are entwined down the entire length of the staircase.
December 21st 1974
First day of winter. Drove through snow to Woodburn though it was only sticking on the ground near Springwater. The sore throat flu has me again! So to bed early.
Christmas Eve, 12/24/74
In bed and if I had any sense, would put the light out and go to sleep. We are all in the grip of the cold. Joey’s tonsils very bad and being medicated, while the rest of us struggle with Nyquil and other remedies. Paige is the healthiest. Pete views me as a “typhoid Mary” and mutters darkly about my proximity. Sorry!
Additionally, he has broken his pact to moderate his drinking. The lesson now learned is that I cannot win either by fighting or silence. So I lean on my newfound sword and indulge in observation. But perhaps wisdom cannot be achieved in regard to the behavior of others or circumstance alone. One must fall back on whatever means are available to deal with one’s self.
I didn’t want to be philosophical tonight but have been unable to sleep for hours after going to bed. My intense thinking and delving disturbs my sleep even when I doze off.
The tree is a splendor, and the children are sleeping around it like large cherubs. The clock is set for 7 a.m. as I must open Dad’s gift first of all and call him at 7:30 before he leaves for his stepdaughter’s. (Note: Dad is my father-in-law).
It was cold throughout the day – the creek began clearing itself of wind-hurled debris.
Read out of the Christmas Carol to the kids while Pete napped; and then read my “Christmas Memoirs” –-not very interesting, this last. Beaten out at top speed with no thought of content or form last week.
To bed. To sleep. To dream.
Merry Christmas!

Published in: on October 29, 2018 at 12:24 pm  Comments (4)  

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4 CommentsLeave a comment

  1. Honestly, I think your words have always had a lyrical nature to them. So interesting to hear of your days so long ago. Can’t wait to read more!

    • Thank you, my dear. I love hearing your thoughts and reading your comments.

  2. So many lines ring within my heart, but I’ll just list one…Quaker at prayer. It’s stayed with me for a week now.

  3. Thank you, Barb. Coming from such an awesome writer as yourself, it means a great deal. 🙂

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