July 20
Crisis, age 40, London
July 20, 2001
It’s Friday, 8.05pm. On the tube. If it behooves me to write the minutiae of life at the moment, then so be it. From these small, seemingly inconsequential words shall be born a new future, new hope, better days. If, in time, they add to the structure of what may be, then so be it. For sure, they cannot detract. It seems an out is required, exits are needed and I must try and provide them howsoever they can be arranged, for I cannot live with continual thoughts pressing in on my head, squeezing away, insistent, demanding, demanding, demanding attention, threatening to explode like a tumour or a cancer dare I to ignore them. Small thought, big thoughts, malignant thoughts and pacifist thoughts, benign and cheery, wicked and wild and self-destructive. Today, recently, everything is demanding head room. Today, I struggle to hold on to myself as if I were a balloon in the wind and needed much anchoring in order to not float away on evil winds that promise me a big fat nothing. I seek remedies, answers, maybe even rescue. Some parts of me are so small, so small and indecisive. And frightened, too, I muse. And I am late , and does it matter. She, too, is bound to be late. But I wish the train would move. And oh, I’ve been despairing, and oh! I’ve been hounded, and oh, I do not know where is my safety. I do not seem to have the safety nets of others. I do not seem to have made the same provision as others. Is this my folly or merely my trust in the universe? I couldn’t tell you right at the moment, for I know nothing for sure, only that I must write, and I must sing and I must look upon beauty and know the sanctity of emotional states and art that arises from that. I’m going to see Barb, in “Girl Talk” at Pizza on the Park. Bye.
Laura M., age 15, North Carolina
July 20, 1997
Up at 7:30. Worked from 8-close. Steven and Bryan came to Dad’s for a few. We ate watermelon. Went to pool from 4-7. Came back and showered. Ate dinner and watched “Simpsons,” “King of the Hill.” Talked to Ashley, Courtney, Renee. Love ’em.
Anna L., age 75, Illinois
July 20, 1960
Found things to do. Washed our robes. Made white cake and g. cookies. Mrs. B. going to Mrs. Becking’s so didn’t see her.
Marcy S., age 20, Tennessee
July 20, 1944
A very bad day. Cloudy and coolish in the morn. Didn’t get up to practice but when I did I felt like the last rose of summer. Had awful headache and pains in my interior. Felt awful at office. Was quite busy. It cleared and got pretty warm. Hardly ate any lunch. I lay down afterwards and thought I’d stay home this afternoon and work Saturday but decided to go back. Pop drove Clure and I down. She had some trees in her side yard cut back this morn. It suddenly got very dark and threatening. The rains came but didn’t last long. Stayed cloudy and gloomy. Mr. H. went to Kingston, saying I could leave at 4. I typed Mrs. Shaefer’s will and then read Louisa May Alcott. Some people came in. Mr. Frank Johnson for one and gave me a dime for typing a paper for him. He said he was sorry I hadn’t met his son who had been in recently — not that I know his from anyone else! He’s a quick, nervous, jovial man who always has a strong-smelling cigar in his mouth. Mr. H. returned about 4 and went into conference. I left about 20 after. Dreary afternoon. Alice Ann was playing out in her yard with a girl and she ran out and spoke to me. Mrs. Walker told Mum this afternoon that Alice Ann just loved me. I rolled a ball to her and she rolled it back. She has the sweetest smile! Mum had gone calling and Pop wasn’t home yet. I took a nap and got up about 6 feeling somewhat better. My stomach felt as if it had a hot coal in it — just the way Mum felt a few weeks ago. Practiced and then we had supper. Mum had driven to town with Mrs. Geasland and she was telling Mum about the train ride with Betty. Mrs. G. was very distressed because she couldn’t make friends with B. That’s odd ’cause B. is usually very friendly but she was positively discourteous to Mrs. G. I felt as if someone had struck me. Betty has never even so much as written Mum a line to thank her for the visit. And it’s been over a month. There’s no excuse for that! Even in her letter to me she didn’t mention the lunch Mum put up for her or send her greetings to Mum and Dad. Somehow I don’t think we can ever be good friends anymore. If she doesn’t write Mum very soon (although it’s really too late now) I’m not going to write her. We’ll just call it off. As for Washington — somehow I don’t want to go there now 'cause they’d probably ask me for Christmas and I wouldn’t want to go. So I guess it’ll be Penn State, Pop’s old alma mater. If I can get in. Oh! I’d looked forward to to Washington but it’s all spoiled now. I don’t know what’s wrong — it must be me. But I’m always being disappointed in people and hurt so that I doubt everyone for awhile. I let people down, too, but I hope I’m never as downright rude as Betty. She is a queer one — I never did understand her. Mrs. Geasland will wonder at my choice of friends! And here I thought they’d have such a good time together! Well, P. Watkins, you’d better have your “feelings” enclosed in cast iron! * * * After the dishes I took a bath. About 7:45 I left for Kimmie’s. It was sprinkling. Pop went to a Legion meeting. Kim. was all alone. We played Mozart’s 2nd symphony and got along famously. Then I played my program for tomorrow and Kim. brought in some fruit juice and dates. We played records. About 9:30 I left. It was raining. Pop picked me up by Geasland’s. To bed by 10. Pop and Mum listened to convention speakers — the man who introduced the Pres. was excellent. I went off to sleep right in the middle of F.D.R.’s address. Tut! tut! I was cold and hot by turns and my stomach’s insides were burning up. I awoke once about 11 and saw Ashley going to his room. I was happy and went off to sleep again. Had good dreams — about Ashley and letters from Jim.
Henry S., age 25, Michigan
July 20, 1887
Worked in the store today. Richard Robbins and family came up and took dinner with Kate. I got off and came home a couple of hours after dinner, to visit with them. Did considerable corresponding for the firm today. Fred Neill brought me ½ ton of hay tonight so I will have something to feed Jimmie now.
*(R. Henry Scadin Collection, D.H. Ramsey Library Special Collections, UNC Asheville)
Abbie B., age 22, Kansas
July 20, 1871
The usual a. m. work, then cut out a basque or sack for me. Am getting out of every day dresses, but have lots of petticoats. Called at Roses this eve. She had so much to tell of her trip to town, and I of my calls down river, we just laughed. The sun went down—and I had to hurry home. I dont like to cross the river unless I can see the sand bars, and it takes time to put off and on stockings and shoes. I promised to go back as soon as my sack is finished, and tell her all I know. “Yes,” she said, “and you can manafacture some more in the meantime.” The evenings are cool, the mosquitos not so bad.
Brother tells me Jake has ague. Too bad. Papers from home. How they remember us.
*(kansasmemory.org, Kansas State Historical Society, copy and reuse restrictions apply)
Cornelia H., age 25, North Carolina
July 20, 1862
Late breakfast this morning. I gathered the beans for dinner, also some cucumbers & onions. It is after 12 & we will soon have dinner. We have our first apple dumplings today. I am upstairs in Harrie’s room writing. Mr. Henry down stairs in piazza reading. He has taken a nap since breakfast. Pinck has gone with Atheline & other darkies to hunt huckelberries. Willie is with Tena & Zona playing about generally. Willie’s foot looks better this morning. No one here for dinner but our family & N. Taylor. Pinck did not get back till about 3 o’clock. Mr. Henry & I took a walk this evening up by the sweet potato patch & by the spring & then up by the hotel place. We called in a few minutes at Bets McKinnish’s. She lives in the cabbin Taylor did. It rained a little before we got home. Not enough to dampen us.
*(Fear in North Carolina: The Civil War Journals and Letters of the Henry Family, Eds. Karen L. Clinard and Richard Russell, used with permission.)
Samuel P., age 34, London
July 20, 1667
Up, and to the office, where Mrs. Daniel comes … All the morning at the office. Dined at home, then with Mr. Colvill to the new Excise Office in Aldersgate Street, and thence back to the Old Exchange, to see a very noble fine lady I spied as I went through, in coming; and there took occasion to buy some gloves, and admire her, and a mighty fine fair lady indeed she was. Thence idling all the afternoon to Duck Lane, and there saw my bookseller’s moher, but get no ground there yet; and here saw Mrs. Michell’s daughter married newly to a bookseller, and she proves a comely little grave woman. So to visit my Lord Crew, who is very sick, to great danger, by an irisipulus; —[Erysipelas.]— the first day I heard of it, and so home, and took occasion to buy a rest for my espinette at the ironmonger’s by Holborn Conduit, where the fair pretty woman is that I have lately observed there, and she is pretty, and je credo vain enough. Thence home and busy till night, and so to bed.
*(The Diary of Samuel Pepys M.A. F.R.S., edited by Henry B. Wheatley F.S.A., London, George Bell & Sons York St. Covent Garden, Cambridge Deighton Bell & Co., 1893.)