Legacy Writing 365:197

More from 14-year-old Becky’s diary:

Sunday, August 9: Daddy is sending me a Korean doll home to add to my collection.


I’m spending the night with Lynn tonight.

My use of present progressive tense in the first sentence is a little odd, since my father had arrived home from Korea in the wee hours of that morning (like one or two a.m.). But I actually remember Lynne and her sister coming to pick me up later that afternoon. Everyone had stayed up all night to meet him at the bus station and talk to him after he got home. Later, the only child still living at home had to be gotten rid of so my parents could have some time to themselves. I think I was finally old enough to get it, and EW. Gross. Parents.

Thursday, August 27: Got my Korean doll today. It’s very pretty.


Terri and David are here again. Terri got her hair cut off right to her shoulders. They’ve been back a long time (from S.C.) and left today for Colorado.

Again, I worry about my mastery of tense. Are they here or have they gone? Regardless, it seems important that Terri got her hair cut right to her shoulders.


Here’s a shot of Tom and Tim in 2002 playing some kind of game–Cribbage, maybe–at the table after we opened presents on Christmas Eve. Behind them, on the bookcase, you can see the various dolls from my father’s deployments overseas.

And a close-up:

The little girl and boy dolls he brought back to me from Japan when I was in second grade. The shorter doll in front was sent to me from Korea during that same deployment. The taller Korean doll in the back (her head is bent, as she was playing a drum, which I think long since fell apart) is the doll mentioned in these diary entries. All of these are carefully packed away now, but I still have them.

6 thoughts on “Legacy Writing 365:197”

        1. I wonder why we couldn’t be those people who don’t throw it out, find it in the attic, sell it for $47,000?

  1. Alas, being the eldest of three boys, all my toys were used up by hand me down brothers. Same goes for all the books. Nothing remains of my childhood, except for memories.

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