Tag Archives: Mrs. Sharp

Memoir-in-Progress: Jan. 20, 1981

First things first: Countdown to Kianna is now at 30 days. One month to delivery.

From Jan. 8, Part 2 of my list of 2012 New Year’s resolutions: #37. Find and reassemble the nerdy journal I kept for every day of high school. (A work also known as “My Senior Drear.”)

Rather than go right to Jan. 20, 1981 — apparently that was a rather historic day — I’ll start with a few nuggets from dates prior to that one. I’m referencing “My Senior Drear: Book 2, Volume B.”

Jan. 7, 1981, Wednesday — My sports column should be in today’s paper.

First hour, journalism: Planned more for first publication of paper; planned assignments.

Lunch: something refuse-flavored.

Sixth hour, publications (Yearbook class): Got ad pages back because there were some errors on them. Completed another four dummy sheets.

Seventh hour, speech and debate: Practiced speech for Parkway Tournament. Jack broke everything off with Terri.

Jan. 8, 1981, Thursday — No report. Kevin was manic, 37:43:5. (This meant 37 days manic, 43 days depressive, five days balanced. Kevin was a junior, one of my friends who was quite the personality. I think the manic:depressive:balanced score was a joke. I think).

Jan. 9, 1981, Friday — Left at 9 a.m. to go to Parkway West Speech Tournament.

Jan. 12, 1981, Monday — I stayed home. Fatigued.

Jan. 13, 1981, Tuesday — Great mood. I drove, took Kelly to school. We were fighting this morning. It’ll pass.

Jan. 14, 1981, Wednesday — I scored 12 points last night as Faith Baptist slaughtered RLDS in the church league.

Fourth hour, formal writing: I hope we don’t have a quiz soon, for i haven’t paid attention for four days. Strangely, however, my writing has improved and I have found i’ve been implementing elements studied in this course. I guess I am listening.

Jan. 15, 1981, Thursday … Laughed ’til I cried fourth hour. (No note on what was so funny).

Jan. 16, 1981, Friday — Homecoming tonight.

Jan. 19, 1981, Monday — Long day; tense. Didn’t stop running all day. Kevin depressive 45:42:5.

Editor’s note: I present the journal entry for Jan. 20, 1981, Tuesday, in its entirety.

Jan. 20, 1981, Tuesday — Some notes before beginning any other writing: This could be one of the biggest days in American history. The hostages being held in Iran are to be released. I will cry tears of peace, joy and even sorrow — for the world.

Ronald Reagan will be inaugurated as the 40th president of the U.S.A. at noon today.

First hour, journalism: Assignment: 10 front-page ledes, what percentage use the 5-W lede. Also, write 5 ledes using the 5-Ws.

Second hour, astronomy: Mr. Abels asks, “Why is there no water on the moon?” My response: “It all dried up.”

Third hour, study hall: Went to typing room and typed. Miss Schacht heard on the radio that the hostages were in the air headed to Algiers or Wiesbaden.

Fourth hour, formal writing: I’m in a terrible, destructive mood. Mrs. Sharp is going to destruct me soon, I believe. Kevin is Depressive. 46:42:5


… For some reason that was my final entry for that day. Apparently there was drama and dissent among speech team members and the play cast after lunch. And by “drama” I don’t mean reciting lines and blocking scenes. I didn’t keep an accurate record of whatever transpired. Apparently there was no blood-letting or any violations of my Constitutional rights, because I would have recorded THAT.

But at least the hostages were free.

Grandpa’s message to Kianna, #8

I’ve got the best books in the house; I like collecting really old books. The oldest one that I have — I mean, besides The Bible (and by Bible, I mean “Authorized King James Version”) — is “Practical Housekeeping,” printed by Perry & Baldy, Denver, Colo., 1885. It’s mostly recipes and handy tips for the mindful housewife. The dedication page reads, “To those Plucky Housewives who master their work instead of allowing it to master them, This book is dedicated.”

The book’s a real hoot. I’m sure by the time you’re considering your life’s paths, you’ll get a kick out of it, too. Maybe we’ll even talk Mrs. Grandpa into trying some of the recipes with us. Cucumber catsup. Gooseberry catsup. Quail on toast. Jugged hare. Winter succotash. Pigs’-feet souse.


I’m kidding, of course. Instead, I’ll teach you an important Jackson code word that I used with your mom, Kishia, and Aunt Tasha when we’d visit somewhere for lunch or supper and somebody served something that resembled pigs’-feet souse — whatever that is.

When we make eye contact and telepathically agree, “We can’t possibly eat this,” that’s when Grandpa will stretch and say, “Woah! Looks like Kianna and Grandpa are stuffed! We’ll have to take a walk after supper.”

Take a walk” means “find the nearest Quik-Trip” or “go to McDonald’s.”

You’ll catch on.


Filed under Kianna Allene Brown, MIP: Memoir-in-progress