Note to self: You’ve been a certified nerd a long, long time. Twelve years old and keeping a diary? I know, I know, you called it your “little book,” but it was a diary.
Note to reader: I was in seventh grade, living in Jefferson City. Didn’t know it at the time, but it was the final Christmas that my family was “intact.” By the time Christmas ’76 rolled around and Queen had completely rocked my world with “Bohemian Rhapsody,” my parents were divorced.
From the “little book” … (Sorry no photographic evidence):
“12-24-75: I’m about to go to bed. Kathy and I put on our X-mas program. George is hurt, but I prayed for him. He’s lots better. It’s hard to go to bed on X-mas Eve.
12-25-75: Christmas Day! I didn’t think anything about getting a hamster. I went downstairs at 7:15 this morning. I heard Mom talking about a loose hamster, but I didn’t know what to think. It had gnawed out of the box Mom had it in. She caught it so then I had it as an X-mas present. Early this morning Dad brought out a big triangular box. I guessed right off: it was a guitar. I’m making friends with my hamster, Christmas, a female, and this has been a great X-mas.”
MEMOIR MENTIONS: Kathy is my sister. She was the baby of the family until I was born 21 months after her. Kathy recently turned 50. I’m next. Kathy and I performed a family-only Christmas program (song and skits) for several years. George was my mutt dog. He was about eight months old. I recall that he jumped off the back of the couch and hurt his leg, but it didn’t bother him for long. Must have been a good prayer, huh?