I was born at Christmastime in 1966. If I had held out two more days Santa could have delivered me. Instead, I arrived the more traditional way.
I grew up in an unincorporated town just outside Lincoln, Nebraska. The population was 100, mostly working class folks whose jobs were in Lincoln. There was a grain elevator where bottled pop was 20 cents and an elementary school where classes averaged seven kids. My class, however, began with only me and one other kid. When he moved after second grade, I became a class of one for a year, which worked out well because it allowed me to work with the fourth graders, whom I always liked more anyway. But I digress.
Although I no longer live there, it will always be my true home. Not long ago I became curious about the town's history and, without intending to, took on the task of researching and writing it. With the Lincoln city limits inching ever closer, the day will likely come when the town no longer exists; a record of it should.
I have an older brother (by nine years), Keith, and we have a strangely close and distant relationship that, from my point of view, is never easy and will never be any different.
While in college I became friends with Tammy, who quickly became a best friend and is now whatever is between "best friend" and "family" on the relationship continuum.
During the early days of the Internet when chatting was the thing to waste time on, I met a man who would end up being a very close friend. His name is Jack but when I write about him I usually call him by the user name he used when I first met him: Jax. He lives in NYC.
I'm shy at first, not at all so later on. I'm pretty easy-going, curious and open-minded. I love movies and baseball (2008 IS the Cubs' year!), live blues, breezes from open windows, torrential downpours, wild windstorms, homemade ice cream, trivia games, sunsets in crimson and purple, taking naps and Chicago (the city).
one december. . .
This is an online journal, definitely diary/scrapbook not blog/commentary. I've had online journals since 1998 but the archives have not survived. The early years are lost forever on 3 1/2 inch disks, other years were deleted during various moves from one site to another.
I'm the first to admit I'm about the last person whose life warrants a daily, published record. Yet for some reason I get something out of doing this. Sometimes it's aggravation, usually it's some degree of clarity. The things I write here, I rarely speak of out loud. This is how I make sense of things, let go of things, and remember things.
The title doesn't refer to anything in particular, but somehow it does fit me and this.
What a great blog! Sadly 2008 was NOT the Cubs year. I was so sure of it. Ah well, as they say, there's always next year! Thanks for linking to me. I'll def add you to my list of place I visit.
Posted by: Mom in High Heels | November 17, 2008 at 02:55 AM
email me the details. Husband is amateur genealogist and we have membership. He adores a challenge.
jo
Posted by: jo | April 24, 2009 at 07:38 PM