Alysse Aallyn

Category: Confessions

  • Wild With Possibility: the teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Thurs Oct 8, 64


    Got a “social warning” for “lights out” with a boy! It was only six o’clock for heaven’s sake! I have much to learn about the Art of Shiking. Things are rough for the Prisoners of the Tower. We were talking about hobbies. His is photography. I said mine is philosophy. Social philosophy. Like why people are so very, very strange.

    Also got a warning for not wearing a “covering” on my curlers in the upstairs Girls’ End Hall!  What is this, Moulay Idris? What a place!

Favorite song this week – “I like it” by Gerry & the Pacemakers.

    “I like it! I like it!
    I like the way you run your fingers through my hair…”
    Exactly.

    Doggerel for English:

    “To laugh and love and run and sing
    Are gifts beyond all price.
    And when I die for die I will
    I’ll feel no pain or strife.
    It is enough for me to know I’ve sipped the wine of life!
    In a way I’ll always live
    In all I’ve loved and seen
    The whirling whiteness of the snow
    The emerald spring of green.
    A rock that’s round and hard and smooth
    The restless roaring sea
    The pale blank beauty of the moon
    All have a piece of me.
    So I can die without a qualm
    ‘Cause death is never mean.
    Dying too is part of life –
    Remember – dirt is clean!

    Eng teacher gave me a B MINUS and asked me to write it again without rhyme!  But since it’s in the past, why would I?  Life rushes on, Master Gwill! Better get moving!
I recited it at the dinner table (maybe it is more of a recitation piece) and – Miss Womrath liked it so much she gave me her notebook from a Trip to France in 18 BC.  It is full of sketches of fishermen and birds – the poems are unbelievably bad. There are a surprising number of breasts – even men had breasts in those days!  Maybe she is a nympho-lesbo.

    TUESDAY, MARCH 30, 1965 – Brockton, Ohio

    Tonight Mom and Genevieve and Avril and I went to a concert at Avril’s school – my old school. It was like walking smack into the past—a nightmare come to life. Old Miss Quinn came lurching toward us like Boris Karloff in the Mummy – she was even trailing some sort of torn drapery. I stared disbelieving at the puniness of the drinking fountain –more like an animal watering device than any kind of implement to be used by human beings – was I EVER that small? The halls were narrow and grimy but I remember them in my dreams as vast and spacious with the edges seeming to drop away like unmapped territory. The children’s faces even seemed familiar – as if I grew up and they didn’t – maybe children’s faces are indistinguishable.

     The Auditorium was pathetic.  It had a tiny stage – made of wretched splintered boards. I felt my rear end itch in memory.  I imagined myself, old and famous, donating  decent drapes to replace those ratty dust catchers. But probably it would be better to deny any association with this place. Of course Avril performed horribly. Years of relentless babying have softened that poor child’s brain.  

Genevieve and I walked home so as to avoid the reception afterwards.  I don’t recall my mother going to a single one of my concerts – and Genevieve doesn’t remember it either. This mothering thing is something she’s only recently discovered – twenty years into the job.  Oh well.  

As  Genevieve says, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. When we got home we watched The Man from Uncle, (naturally Avril gets a TV!) then  I worked on my novel about teenage stardom while Genevieve set her hair with beer cans. That’s because we were going to the movies - the second showing of 36 Hours and she might see someone. Genevieve had already seen it and couldn’t help giving me a running commentary. I need all the help I can get in war movies. My favorite part was when Pike and Anna were in the hole and  the German soldier, looking in sees a nest of baby birds instead  of them and whistles to the birds. I thought it was very mature of the scriptwriter to resist the urge to have him murder the baby birds.

    When I got home Daddy called me into the study where he had an application for summer theatre camp! I can go! Off to sleep in a haze of bliss.

    Wednesday, March 31, 1965
    Sure is hellish trying to write in a car. It’s 4:12 pm and we’re in the Shenandoah Valley. So far we’ve traveled through five states. I have a feeling this is going to be a short entry because I’m feeling carsick. Avril has been carsick twice already.

    We got up at nine and left at nine thirty. Call last night to Phil - saying goodbye was rather a greasy experience. I wish he had a sort of brake control. I promised him I would write.  He will probably be back at school by the time I return. 

The countryside is all the same, dark woods, yellow grass and ridiculous road signs. We had lunch in a bone-chilling wind at 12:30 and now I’m starving again. We ate at Howard Johnson’s and Dad embarrassed us about the food. He always complains but I like the clams. Mom’s scarf blew out of the window so we are turning back to get it.

    FRIDAY APRIL 2, 1965
    At last a moment! We have really been having fun. We ended up in Front Royal Virginia the last time I wrote you at The Colonial Motor Court. Dad said it was about as colonial as a TV dinner. We went to see Goldfinger after dinner and Dad pretended to be Oddjob in the parking lot. Mom was rigid and disapproving but whether of murderous Oddjob or boisterous Pussy Galore I couldn’t say.

    Next day we went to Monticello. I could spend a lifetime there! We made it to Williamsburg by late afternoon and went straight to the Candlelight Concert at the Governor’s Palace. Concert mediocre.  Then we went to the Sheraton, which was a pretty cool place except the pool is shut.  

We ate at Chowney’s and I had Brunswick stew and apple pie.  Dad rousted us out at an ungodly hour so we could see all of Williamsburg.  First place we saw was Bruton Parish where I liked the graveyard.  I found a small stone with just the initials B.S. on it. That’s the way to go – keep everyone guessing.  Then we saw the George Wythe House. Rough way to live.  I preferred the Palace, where we got lost in the maze. I said I was sure I had been an aristocrat I in an earlier life and Dad said everyone thinks that.  I found the middle of the maze all by myself, but it began to rain and so we ducked into the Brush-Everard house.  We had lunch at Christiana Campbell’s.  I had potpie and stoked myself quite full. After lunch we hit the shops: I bought a blank book, a thistle seal (Mary Queen of Scots) and a gingerbread man.  I was so sleepy I slept in the car on the way to Washington, but I woke up when we got to our hotel, the Fairfax.

    The Fairfax is a rather doubtful looking place – Dad has a tendency to choose hotels that look like the owner just died. Our rooms are on the eighth floor. We went to dinner at an Italian place called Nino’s. The food was good, but you can get better pizza at Benet’s. We drove around after dinner and Dad said this is the second most beautiful American city (after San Francisco.) Mom said its No. 1. All I could see was huge monuments looming at me through the gloaming.

    SATURDAY, APRIL 3, 1965
    I was rudely awakened by someone trying to strangle me – it was Daddy. And yet nobody’s allowed to make noise while he’s trying to sleep – just one of the many inequities between parents and kids. Genevieve called me a sloth and I reminded her that it takes a sloth three hours to drown because of their generally superior construction. They probably experience things more deeply too. I know I was having a wonderful dream, I just can’t remember what it was. It was six a.m. – earlier than I get up at school. We drove around looking for somewhere to eat, finally stopping at the Ambassador where I had strawberries and coffee. (You’ve gotta start sometime.)
    We decided to climb the Washington monument but a surprise awaited us: to be exact, a line that stretched as far as the eye could see, comprising:
    Girl scouts
    Brownies
    Old ladies
    Fat ladies
    Dead ladies
    Dead girl scouts
    Hoboes hired to stand in line for somebody smarter.

    What to do? Fortunately Dad decided to pretend to be a tour guide and just walked in front, talking and waving his arms, something about how the building was built of pennies collected by Brownies and some statue, covered with pigeon poo, was a memorial to a man who invented a way of cleaning pigeon poo off statues.  At one point we had at least thirty people in our group – everyone was riveted. Of course all that climbing was pointless and not worthwhile.  Genevieve said the monument looked like a giant planeria, which is a repulsive image.

Other deathless thoughts from the day’s experience: The White House does not look like it would be fun to live in. I failed to catch a glimpse of Luci Baines who has probably gratefully gone somewhere else. Dad made us stand in front of the Treasury Building for what seemed like an eternity (“because we owe them so much money”) and then we went to see our Congressman.  Although he is a Republican he seemed like a good fellow. Daddy called him Chuck and he talked to us for quite awhile as if he wasn’t really busy.  He gave us passes to the next session of the 89th Congress which I thought was nice until Dad pointed out that we’re paying for everything. So we trudged over to the Capitol. I liked the classy pillars and noticed the meander design everywhere (matching my sweater – which my mother knit while I studied the Greeks.)  I also liked the chandeliers.  They have a lot of them.  There was one hall where each state had put two statues of famous men – one of ours was Garfield (who I’ve heard of) and the other one was Allen (who nobody’s heard of.)   The tour guy said Garfield’s assassin is one of the Capitol ghosts and the guards see him occasionally.  The best statue was Will Rogers.

    Then we went to see the Supreme Court. I wish they had been in session but they weren’t so I actually saw more of the ladies’ john. There were a lot more steps. I was beginning to get a rubbery sensation in the knees.

        We went out to lunch at Hogate’s where I had crab imperial and Dad lost his air travel card. Then we drove to the Pentagon because Daddy wanted to see it.  Not interesting. We went to Arlington, which was very depressing. You wouldn’t want to live your whole life just so you could be seventh from the end in the thirty-ninth row of Section A.  

    The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier was not as impressive as the one in France. Daddy was angry at us for giggling but I don’t think it was the kind of place to make you want to be quiet.  The French know how to do these things right. I was taken out of my mood by the Jefferson Memorial. It’s adorable. I would like one in my yard. I think it’s my favorite thing I’ve seen. “I have sworn on the Altar of God Eternal Hostility Against Every Form of Tyranny over the Mind of Man.” Wonder what he would have said if they added “woman”  to that. 

    Back at the hotel Avril and I hung out in her room, Genevieve went shopping and Mom and Dad went to an art museum nobody else wanted to see. I washed and dried my hair and at six-thirty we all walked to a Japanese restaurant called Tokyo Sukiyaki, which Dad said, would be like opening a restaurant in Tokyo and calling it New York Steak and Potatoes.  I must say we are eating well. Dad said it was the most authentic Japanese restaurant he’d ever been to in the States.  They painted the walls to look like paper and we had to take off our shoes. The tables were low and there was nowhere to put your feet. We all ate with chopsticks. Dad said you’re a pro when you can pick up three peas I in a line.  He can do it – I can’t – and Genevieve pretends she can.  

    After that we tried to see Zorba the Greek but it was all sold out. So we went to Lord Jim instead. And guess what? Sold out too.  Lots of parents would have been stymied at this point but Dad said he had just begun to fight.  We went to a discotheque called Le Bistro where everyone was dressed to the teeth but there wasn’t any dancing. Dad bought us all beers (except a coke for Avril.  I hate beer, as it turns out) and we waited around but we didn’t want to be the only ones dancing so we went back to the hotel and played Hearts.  I got the Queen of Spades twice, which is definitely a sign of something.

  • Wild With Possibility:the teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Mon. Sept 21 – 64


    A protective life regulated by bells. We come up the stairs at days’ end singing, hockey sticks over our shoulders like the dwarves in Snow White. Friends, bathrobes, curlers, bathing suits hang everywhere. You are Not Alone.

    You go into your room and kick off your hockey shoes so forcefully the spikes damage the wall and throw yourself full-length on the bed even though you have only 15 mins to get pretty for dinner. Your roommate is laughing and throwing socks about. Life is good.  Yet somehow I am wary of this idyll.

Tues Sept 22 – 64
I wish I was beautiful.  It would make my life so much easier.  But no, I have the  Nose of the Aallyns, and the Jaw of the MauMau.

Writing under the sheets ONCE AGAIN by flashlight.  This would mean a deten if caught which involves cleaning flowerpots down at the greenhouse. It could be worse.  Boys have to shovel manure, which explains their smell.  Many are the benefits of the female sex.

The smell of laundry soap is strong under here.  Not that the sheets are clean – heavens no – they are stained with apple juice and blood. A brain-damaged girl got me in the ankle with her hockey stick.

Got my first KOB tonight so of course I have to memorialize it. A boy in my art class named Bob.  I don’t know about Bob.  I’m not sure he’s got what it takes. He’s too nice.  Oh where will I find the boy f my dreams?  My eyes wander over the Senior Class.

Left my razor kit at home and my legs are a hairy mess.  Plus I wear kneesocks constantly and the rubber bands are cutting off my circulation.  And my skin shows signs of becoming volcanic ground on a rich diet of creamed chicken and scalloped potatoes. Run for the boats, men, the Angry Goddess is about to explode! 

At dinner I sit next to a very cute boy named Phil although he’s at least an inch shorter than me.
Got an interesting book out of the library about Anne Boleyn.  Those Tudors certainly knew how to live. Well, enough of burning the midnight battery.  See you in the AM.

Thurs. Sept 24. 1964
Rewriting Agnes Strickland, Lives of the Queens of England. She has her ideas, I have mine.

    ISABELLA OF VALOIS – Unprepossessing, ye thinks? Look closer: this little chickadee is padded like a football player. Life was very rough and tumble in those days. Her face is all greased up and her ears seem to be missing. She married Richard II when she was eight and had no idea what was in store. Later he either was murdered or committed suicide so he wouldn’t be murdered.
    JOANNA OF NAVARRE – Things are getting worse. Two fungus growths on either side of this head. She is wearing one of the new French bras but she still has to hold up her chest. When the French captured her, they gave her right back. Can you blame them?
    KATHERINE OF VALOIS – Isabella’s sister but you’d never know it. She’s a dead ringer for Ringo Starr. No chest, a potbelly, and when they called her “Katherine the Fair” they were being sarcastic. Still, Henry V was madly in love with her. Maybe he was kidding.
    MARGARET OF ANJOU – Maggie also well padded for the games, but content to take life as a bystander. From the expression on her face you can tell her team is not winning. She was a goalie in the Wars of the Roses.
    ELIZABETH WOODVILLE – Her head is wrapped in mosquito netting and she is sucking on a lemon. Your guess is as good as mine what she was up to.
    ANNE OF WARWICK – More sport, Old English Style. In one hand she holds a hockey stick, in the other, the ball.
    ELIZABETH OF YOURK – An amateur magician. Saying, “Nothing up my sleeves, nothing up my socks.” I’d watch those sleeves, though.
    KATHERINE OF ARAGON – Pictured holding a dead bouquet of flowers to symbolize her husbands whom she beat at wrestling. First one died, second one divorced her.
    More anon!

    Sun. Sept 27 – 64
Madness reigns!  I’ve been behaving strangely for the past three days.  Ah me. It is just too much that I  have not been invited to the fall dance, and girls can’t invite boys here.  Still there’s six days left.  I will be disappointed if I don’t get KOBS from six boys all madly in love with me and threatening to throw themselves into the lake with one mighty splash.   I can dream, can’t I?
Saturday was Night Problems – a strange affair where they blindfold girls & boys, put them in trucks and dump them in the woods couple by couple and make them find their way home.  I was dumped off with Art the Wolf who made no moves on me but very practically suggested we follow the railroad tracks to the school!  There was plenty of moon. We were the first ones back and won the box of cookies (which I gave him because I hate ginger snaps.)
Thurs Oct 1 - 64
Guess what, I’m in the infirmary. Lovesick or Night Problems? When first I entered Nostrils the nurse thought I was faking. But I had a real temperature all right!  The doctor says I have SPOTS on my tonsils! (Lovespots.) Dr. Jax is one of those smooth mass-production doctors who advertise things on TV.  Probably an incipient sex maniac.

Nostrils went snoopily through my bag asking what my Noxzema is for and confiscating my chocolate covered cherries (they were getting old.) Her nostrils really are amazing.  You could pick her out of a crowd.  She asked if Felix Krull, Confessions of a Confidence Man is a novel of sex and violence! I’m reading it but I don’t like it.  Sometimes I read Vanity Fair (vey good! – Nostrils had heard of that one) and sometimes Nero Wolfe.

There are two boys in the Boys’ Section and I can talk to them over the swing door but I can’t see them!  I’m going to write them both KOBS.  Nostrils says I’ll be here till Sun which means I’m down for the count at the dance.  These male sickos will have to be my dates.

Wed Oct 7 - 64
Life is so full. My whole being is just one big question mark. While waiting here to be fulfilled I am actually living.  Reading Violet Brooke’s The Prisoners of the Tower.  That’s what we are – prisoners of the tower.  But at least it’s a co-ed tower.

I am introduced to the Art of Shiking – which is Being where you are Not supposed to Be. “Off bounds”.  It has many sophisticated ramifications such as jumping from window to window, even running between the chimneys on the roof playing Viet Cong Vs French Resistance. Or it could just mean meeting boys in Central after dark!

  • Wild With Possibility: the teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Tues. Sept 8 – 64


    Well it’s happened. That thing I fought so long: I am crying. Next to pain, disbelief is my strongest emotion.

    There is no getting around it.  I looked in the mirror and I am ugly. Mom offered to trim my hair – I was losing my flip – and I thought she actually would but she cut it so short its not even short length. It just looks stupid.  You can still see the scars of the summer’s impetigo all around my mouth. (Mom calls it a “deficiency” disease! Great!)

Can you imagine arriving the first day of school with a deficiency disease and stupid hair? And now my eyelids are swollen and my nose is purple!

Can I rise above this?  At least in my dreams I am beautiful.

I’m exhausted from a day of shopping, sitting at my desk in my rabbit slippers in my own little room. Tired of wrestling with Mom over clothes, as usual. Finally got her to buy me a decent pair of heels and some black underpants (for my exotic moods.) I lost on the black party dress even though I promised to take the rose off the shoulder. All she will buy me are horrible Villager, John Meyer and Walter Lanz desecrations that make teenagers look like members of the golf club. 

At least she let me buy makeup to cover my impetigo and a powder blue cardigan I really like which will look good once I shrink it. Genevieve caught me in the bathroom trying it on backwards and she said nobody wears cardigans backwards and if you wear your circle pin anywhere but at the collar of your cardigan it means you’re not a virgin. (Also if you wear your kilt pin upside down.)  I said everyone in France wears their cardigans backwards and nobody in France is a virgin.

Mom and Dad say I need a “progressive” school because I am creative and Genevieve needs a “snob” school because she is smart.  Unfortunately for us both it’s the same school.
Next-door creep Bobby Bloy raked my diaries out of the leaf pile but they were too burned to read hahaha.  He will never know whether I wrote about him or not, the little grossness. (He chests his pants.) How he would love to be preserved for posterity.

Fri Sept 11, 64
So many days since I wrote!  It shows how exciting my life has been.  My only problem is my roommate who seems to come from another planet. But I want to write about everything.

Wed AM I woke up early, washed my hair in beer, put Dep on the ends and set it on orange juice cans. This really seems to work – it held the flip till almost noon.  I had to drag the hairdryer out of my trunk where it was mixed up with all the unspeakable hockey things they make you buy. Had my breakfast under the hairdryer in my room because I didn’t want to hear Daddy’s remarks idiot women whose hairdryers melted on their heads, burned their hair off leaving only a scarred patch, welded orange juice cans to their skulls, etc. etc.

Then my sister’s boyfriend Granger showed up.  My parents really like Granger but the joke’s on them. They are allowing Granger to drive me and Genevieve to school for reasons I’ll never understand. He drives like a hellion and makes “vroom vroom” noises with his mouth like a little boy. I hope none of the other boys at school are this disgusting. He and Genevieve are perfectly suited for each other however.  Neither know the meaning of true maturity. 
Plumly is NOT a pretty school but I’d seen it before so it was not a shock. It looks like a prison out of Dickens.  Why don’t they just call it “The Workhouse.” (Oh no! Don’t send me there!) However the trees are pretty and at least it has a lake. 

My roommate Thekla is an albino.  When she is speaking I am just staring at her wondering what its like to have pink eyelashes and not do anything about it. She is very religious and says if I say “Jesus Christ!” one more she will report me; that it’s wrong to use the Lord’s name in vain.  How does she know its vain?   Aren’t you supposed to call on your savior in times of trouble?  I’m in trouble a lot.  Also, this is supposed to be a progressive school – my father says “Jesus Christ” all the time and he is very progressive. 
I think I am going to lose this one because Thekla is from Nebraska. She is like one of those frontier women who stand in the middle of fire, water and Indians and never get budged or scraped. 

I am writing with a flashlight under the covers and Thekla would be threatening to report me if she was awake. Fortunately she snores – it’s very handy for knowing if she is asleep or awake.

My Big Sister came to visit me. These are assigned to you to show you the ropes. Her name is Lauren and she is so cool it hurts.  She came in wearing one of our awful gym suits and on her it looked good. She has cut the sleeves off and ripped the bottom into fringe. She says I will get a big brother named Larry Murchenwold and he is a WOLF so I’d better be careful! 

Great to go to a little school where everyone knows everyone and you don’t need to waste time on trial and error. She showed me how to write a KOB (these are the notes sent from Girls’ End & Boys End at night.) You have to fold them a certain way or people think you’re queer. Also never use the Senior Stairs. (Boys who do this at boys’ end get their heads SHAVED.  At Girls’ End things are more ladylike.  They just cut up your underwear when you are out of the room. (Obviously I’m going to need some better underwear.)

My first sight of the freshmen boys was a big disappointment. They are such babies I assumed they must be visiting. Some have feet, which do not touch the floor when they are seated, others were crying for their mommies. The really tall one chests his pants! Lauren says sometimes the senior boys ask younger girls out.  Let’s hope so. That never happened at my old school.  The very nicest seniors are all taken. There is even one who looks like Jeff Hunter, my favorite movie star. (Genevieve dropped Granger like a hot potato because he has a girlfriend!) So far no sign of my personal Big Bad Wolf.  I don’t think he is taking his Big Brother job seriously!

Friday, Sept 18 – 64 
I can’t believe another week has gone by!  This is amazing – I am actually too busy living to write! This has got to be a first.  Friday seems like the only time because we don’t have sports in the afternoon. Lots of people are taking weekends but I’m saving mine up till I have somewhere special to go.

I’ll tell you about my classes.

    ENG 1 – Strictly for losers. Miss Wienand is so old we can’t believe she’s still alive and not something that struggled its way out of the Tomb of Ligeia. When we speak to her we have to shout and then her head wobbles and her eyes fill with tears. At first I was shocked but you gradually get hardened. She quotes the Lady of Shalott by the hour. Genevieve says it’s the anesthesia they gave her in the war – now she is crazy. There’s a funny boy in class named Ted – he is not sexy at all but he is hilarious. When he said he preferred Coney Island of the Mind to Keats she got so upset she forgot to give us homework. Reading A Separate Peace.
    FR II- Not bad – taught by a real Frenchwoman named Ann-Marie Bustas. She wears very high heels and very tight skirts so she can barely walk and she teases her hair high in back with a rattail comb. I am smug because I aced the first test! She says I can read Françoise Sagan if I want to.

    ENG Hist – is my favorite class taught by a sexpot named Nichols. His teeth are stained with nicotine and his hands shake but he is very funny about Ethelred the Unready and the Venerable Bede. (Unfortunately he is married.) He never fails to crack us up.

    BIBLE – a romp through hell. Zealots 5, Sadducees 0! The teacher is the janitor – he probably works for free so they don’t put him in a home. He wears a hearing aid as big as a toaster and if you want to disrupt class all you have to do is hum. He takes it off his head and tinkers with it for minutes at a time. Gerry Woo is trying to program him by remote control but so far it hasn’t worked. Gerry is another writer (he carries his sci fi novel with him everywhere) unfortunately he spits when he talks and jumps in his seat as if he has bugs in his pants. (He probably does. I hear the hygiene at Boys End is nothing to write home about. Dr Freud to the contrary I am glad I’m not a boy. Sounds hazardous to the health.) So Gerry & I won’t be forming a writing coven anytime soon.

    MATH – Over my head from Day 1. I have a Math Deficiency Disease. Need I say more?

    SCIENCE – I have always admired Science from afar but here’s my chance to see it up close. I’ve promised myself to work really hard this term and plumb its mysteries. What else?

    Oh yes, HOME EC = putrid and ART is for babies.  I’m talking finger-painting and cutting things out of magazines.  If we are really good Mrs. Kurtz will let us make a potholder to take home to our mommies.  Me, who made a pajama coat over and over again from scratch! (Teacher rejected it the first 4 times.) 

We are imprisoned in hockey four afternoons a week while a man-woman makes me run so much I’ve developed a heart condition. We are required to take at least one hobby and I’ve signed up for Workshop Theatre but the teacher hasn’t shown yet because he’s busy getting a divorce. 

I’m sure my impetigo is no longer contagious but no boys have come close enough to find out.   A few drips circle warily and have to be dropped in their tracks before they

    spew.

    Sat. Sept 19 - 64 
The most amazing thing has happened! I am the leader of the freshman girls!  There are only nine of us living at Girls End! (The others are day students.) I know I am an unlikely leader type – I am not bragging or being aggressive. I think I am simply les panic stricken than anybody else. They are in hysterics about grades, boys, hair, parents, I say Why worry about it? And they sob gratefully. 
They put me in charge of the Freshman Skit for Camp Suppers. Nobody wants to look stupid because there may be Boys paying attention.  Har to tell which pair of beady eyes around a campfire belong to a handsome face or an agile brain so we can take no chances.  We are putting on GOLDFIGURE –a girl whose incredible physique turns men into statues.  What do you think?
Sun. Sept 20 – 64
Life is such a great adventure!  I am planning to be so happy my whole life I wake up laughing. Got a letter from Andrea yesterday that made me momentarily nostalgic about The Past.  Oh the times we snuck out of the house in the deep of the night wearing our father’s shirts.  But one can’t look back one must move forward.

  • Wild with Possibility: teen diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Wed Aug 26 – 64 – Camp Tarantula – Somewhere in Darkest Canada


    Shot the rapids yesterday. It was my day for paddling and I sat in the bow. Stu told us “They’re easy. Paddle like mad.” We were in sixth position. It was exhilarating. We took on water and then there was this grinding noise. Look out for that rock! I called too late and then our canoe was sideways. “Get out!” yelled Stu. Suddenly I was in the water, fighting for a hold on the sharp, slippery rocks. Half dragging the canoe and half being dragged by it we managed to get it ashore but our stuff was all gone. Watched Barb & Paul paddle insanely to the V point then lifted out of sight by the furious water. We tried again, again the yelling and confusion, me trying to obey. I think I’m just terrible at this. Horrible grinding crash as we hit another rock. The crash rang in my whole head and assed right through my body. I staggered dazedly out of the sideways canoe, pushed off the rock with all my strength and we were carried to the shore where the others were waiting. We screamed “Keep left!” to every arriving canoe but none of them could hear us. It was a massive disaster. Judy and Wendy were clinging to a rock in the middle of the stream and their canoe was gone. Pam lost her glasses and had blood in her hair. Marilyn was laughing hysterically. I could tell what Jeff was thinking by his face: “That could have been us!” Finally Stu & Paul figured out how to rescue the sobbing girls. (Paul’s sweatshirt doesn’t say “Defiance” for nothing!) “Form a chain!” Stu screamed and stripped off his outer clothing. Steve & Anne rigged a rope to a tree and threw it to Cindy on the other side. Those of us in the chain began a long hard pull trying to pull the girls over. My arms were almost torn out of their sockets. For a cold wet hour we pulled against the force of the current, saved the girls and all but one canoe. Frank tried to rescue our stuff but most of it was gone. Stu gave the girls jackets but everything was wet so it didn’t help.

    No one was griping but no one was looking forward to sleeping on the cold wet frozen ground. Nothing will help but build a fire and climb right in it. I thought about my parents and sisters warm and dry wondering what a fine time I’m having at camp. I was glad Julie couldn’t come – I wouldn’t put a mosquito through this torture. Hard to believe there’s actually a world out here. Promised myself never to be so cold again. We tried to entertain ourselves by talking about what we would do to the person who suggested this trip when we got home. I started up a chorus of The Sloop John B – “This is the worst trip I’ve ever been on.” 
We launched out once more against the surging water – me trying to see through the mist and follow Jeff’s command. We hit another rock! Leaped out mechanically and dragged the canoe to safety. I couldn’t believe it – this is the sort of thing you wake up from. Jeff was patting my back. More screams and crashes. I plugged my ears. “Camp Story Trip 5 – sleep on  bed of scented pine needles at night, glide gently on sunny mirrored lakes by day” should be “the perfect trip for children you never want to see again.”

The last rapids I felt increasingly hysterical and I was doing well compared to everybody else. I persuaded Marilyn to take bowman’s position – I’m not cut out for seeing rocks rushing at me. “I’ll tip us” she said honestly. I said, “I don’t care” I just want to lie down in the boat, close my eyes and let death overwhelm me. Every now and then I would shout encouragement in the direction of Marilyn’s lumberjack coat.

It seemed the longest stretch we had yet – and then we hit. Water around my face. I jumped into the water - my  bare toes showing through the holes in my tennis shoes. “You did better than me” I told a dazed and sobbing Marilyn. Jeff and I hauled the canoe over the rocks, trying to keep it from being swept away. 

Barb and Wendy were right behind us and hit the same rock – Barb was thrown out and carried away by the water.  Canoe completely overturned. Shavonne saved Barb and we tackled the canoe. You just have to keep jumping while everyone’s shouting contradictory orders; no time to stand and argue. I was in waist high water when I felt a shock of pain. “My leg!”  It was twisted and I was afraid I had broken it.  Jeff hauled me out bruised but OK. Good that I have rubber bones. (Shavonne’s a nurse.) All I have to show for it is a small purple cut.

Lunch was the only meal we ate that day – we skipped breakfast to get an early start. If they were honest about these trips fewer would go but more would survive. It was midnight when we reached our campsite and we just wanted to lose consciousness. Eleven of our twenty had lost their sleeping bags so we were all doubled up. Once again I slept with redheaded Paul who at least is safe. (And warm.) I’m not sure this is what the Young Men’s Christian Association had in mind but such is life on a wilderness trek. Probably Sacajawea shared Lewis (or Clark’s) sleeping bag from time to time.

Up at six next morning – skipped breakfast again. Just wanted to get somewhere safe with FOOD. My day for riding thank God. I had to borrow Steve’s extra pants – (I peed in mine but I didn’t tell him that.  Wet is wet.) I even had a blanket so I am comfortable writing this. Alsace (a city of 28 people) is only an hour away. Yahoo!

    Charlaix, Ontario – Sat Sept 5 – 64
    Question of the week: What Can You Do When You’re As Sensitive as Sunburn?
    How slowly the days pass before school! Each day 24 hrs of experience, a million tiny memories. Someday most likely, I will be an old woman with grandchildren. Probably great-grandchildren – the Aallyns are notes for longevity. Will my face be wrinkled my dresses baggy, my shoes ugly and my mind thick with old-fashioned thoughts? Will I think my life is happy or sad? Will I laugh at the foolishness of youth?

    Somehow I think I have the capacity to make myself happy. My future may be great or insignificant. I must say I keep hoping for the former. 

I write aboard the Gryphon, docked at Carmine Bay. So far we have not been able to get out of the bay, every time we try we are hit with ten-foot waves, the boat heels over with its portholes in the water and my mother screams to go back. My cousin Jarvis, who seems a good sort, keeps being sick fortunately so far into the sea. Strange considering his mother is a homeopathic doctor who plies him constantly with “nux vomica”.  Not working in his case. Glad we came in when we did; otherwise I might have seen my insides float by also. 

Unfortunately Genevieve is also aboard; meaning the days are rife with injustices. I want to go swimming but I am on dish detail.  Maybe I can swim later. Water  balms all wounds.
Soon I will be beyond this, at Plumly School the last word in Preppy Co-Education.  Next Wednesday! In the meantime I get to practice shopping and self-control.

Brockton, Ohio – Mon Sept 7 - 64
Diary you are the most recent diary in a long line.  Today I took all my diaries out of the linen closet (up high where Mrs. Broadnax never dusts) and put them on the leaf pile!  Did away with them.  It was with considerable relief that I put away childish things. It seems right to burn diaries in the autumn when there are so many other burnings. 
When people on the street sniff the burning pile and say, “What a good smell”  I can say “That’s Jeff and Harvey and that English kid who pretended he was the Lost Beatle and all those other small-town idiots I can’t wait to leave behind.”
Tra la for autumn madness, new notebooks and new adventures!

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diary of Alysse Aallyn

    Sat July 11 – 64


    Everything changed. Bookie & I broke up. He likes to make me mad by fooling around with other girls and I won’t take it. He knows how insanely jealous I get. He wants me to forgive him but I won’t. “You don’t need him” says Julie. She keeps telling me how beautiful I am! Haha. But she’s right that I don’t need him.


    I am also giving up the pretense that I love my parents. I hear you recoiling in horror, diary but love cannot be forced. I admire them as clever, free-thinking human beings and I am grateful to them but love – no. God I have tried. No more. I take life as it is. I am sorry. They do not love me and I do not love them. They admire me for my talent but that’s all it is. All love died in the hard winter of 60-61. Their favoritism for Avril is insulting and humiliating. I have to bear long lectures about how fragile and sensitive she is. That kid! Please! She is a dreadfully spoiled, crabby, selfish child. Not to mention Mom & Dad fawning all over the French exchange student Jean Michele who pretends he is not interested in girls when he IS.


    Sun July 11 – 64
    I hate Trish so much. She has always wanted Bookie and now she has him. I can’t believe I was ever with someone who could hurt me so deeply. I’ve sworn off boys. Maybe not Tom. He writes regularly and I love him for it.


    Tues. July 14, 64
    Well, well, well, times have changed since my agonizing confession of Sun night. Trish’s old boyfriend Rudy came over to see me with Phil and made it plain that he liked me very much so it’s Trish’ turn to cry. I love it! I’m not conceited but I think I could wrap them around my fingers! I asked them if they wanted to join my fan club and they wrestled over who would be president! Did my heart good. Phil agreed to be Social Director if Rudy is president. They say they are my Bodyguards! Neither likes Bookie and say he is a poor idiot. Turns out people need praise to exist just like plants need water! I was feeling worthless before. After they left Phil called, said Rudy is “the wrong guy” for me and invited me to the movies! I accepted! Then Rudy called for Fri and I told him he was too late. He called Phil “a dirty dog.”


    Bookie came over with Dan Bliss and set off a cherry bomb on my front steps. I couldn’t conceal my anger!


    Waited till Mom and Dad went to bed and gave them twenty minutes. Jean Michele is staying in Genevieve’s room and had his lights on (she is helping Indians in a remote Western outpost which I could never do) so I had to sneak out down the front steps. God! Then I discovered I forgot to wear a bra so I had to go back and get it! God! When I finally stepped outside I expected to see Mom and Dad tapping their feet but I didn’t. I could see Rudy’ white jacket at the end of the driveway. The fuzz caught Phil hiding in the bushes in front of his house so he can’t come!


    We walked all over town without stopping for two and a half hours. Just talking! He asked me to go out with him but didn’t give a definite date. He was cool. At five o’clock I said goodnight.


    Phil woke me up on the phone wanting to know what we did! Mom listened in on the phone and discovered I sneaked out which was a pretty lowdown trick so now I’m grounded. It only gives the game more flavor! Everyone I know has been caught out at least once! In American teenagers these days the feeling of independence runs high. We have been raised to think highly of justice and freedom. But all the advantages lie with parents. Daddy called Phil and Rudy “nincompoops”. Now I can’t go to the movies with Phil so there is no longer any communication between us. I can’t agree to their idiotic demands. I will learn to wear a disguise. (Avril’s birthday cake was good, though. )
    Parents allow me to go to Drama class. My parts are Maggie in Overtones and Mrs. Johns in Thurs Evening. Shipped off a letter to Tom Morris. Nothing on TV but Republican Convention.


    Thurs. July 16 – 64
    This bit with the parents getting steadily worse. I’ll tell you honestly whose fault it is – theirs. I was over at Julie’s today. Thought my parents were the only ones who were so bestial but Julie has the same difficulties. We formed a club to grouse about it called The Orange Toenail Club. Pooling our knowledge. United we stand divided we fall. This morning I was typing A Game of Chess which I had to turn in soon for Drama Club. Got a phone call so I opened the door to answer it. They thought my radio was too loud so CONFISCATED IT. They didn’t ask or complain, just TOOK. NO common courtesy. I said “the hell with you” raced up the stairs but I couldn’t hold the door against him. He threw me on the bed uttering a few choice phrases. So now all I want is my own phone and a lock on my door.
    That was two hours ago. Skipped dinner – nothing to eat. Might as well clean my room since I’m stuck in here. No Drama for me.


    Fri July 17 – 64
    It is the greatest fear of my life that I’m mentally unbalanced. In my dreams I laugh and scream and kill people. Mom and Dad just make fun of me. I can’t make my mind work any more. It’s me outside me, looking at myself. I’m asleep with my eyes open but my brain is dead. My horoscope says I’m a person of unusual mental activity and I’m afraid this is true. Can’t take much more of this. Maybe I’ll go on a hunger strike.
    LATER
    I hate them! Not only can’t I see my friends or talk to them, I can’t have a clock in my room! If these are the kinds of parents they are then I can’t go to Plumly too soon. Indian reservation here I come. I’m refusing to leave my room. If they hurt me any more I’ll run away and I don’t even care how childish that sounds.
    Took a bottle of aspirin from Mom’s room. 15 pills. Won’t kill me and it might put me to sleep. Can’t be up all night like last night. Thinking about suicide makes me feel better. 15 pills and enough water to sink a battleship.


    Sat. Aug 15 – 64
    I’m in the doghouse again. Caught making out with Joe Kingston. At least tomorrow it’s back to camp for me.


    Sun. Aug 16 – 64
    Right now we’re in Michigan. Stu and Shavonne are as cool as ever. This bus is pretty jiggly but I’ve managed to make friends. There’s one cool guy. I started my period while I was asleep so I had to change my white shorts. Borrowed a tampon from Shavonne. Cramps and everything. We’re stopping and everyone has gotten out but me. Stu has to change a tire on the canoe trailer and everyone is buying snacks but I’m determined to lose weight and I don’t want to break my ten dollar bill. I’m trying to save up to buy the second Beatle album from my sister.


    Just had a root beer and now I feel better. Spending the night at St. Ignace in Clare, Michigan. 10 girls and 8 boys – no one is as outgoing as last time but there is only one fink.


    Mon Aug 17, 64
    Breakfast in Seault Ste Marie. I have Canadian money and Canadian stamps. I bought postcards and stationery so I can send letters and a plastic bag for my sleeping bag.


    Bus broke down! We are somewhere in a godforsaken marsh. We will be eating dinner here in the middle of nowhere and sleeping by the side of the road! Getting to know a really nice boy named Jeff Spiegel. Trying not to compete for him with an ugly scab named Mimi.


    Fri. Aug 21 – 64
    We have been canoeing for days. I’m sharing a canoe with Jeff and Steve. This idyll could kill those who drink too much of its wine. Jeff told Mimi he likes me more because she wouldn’t stop mauling him. But he told me he’d going steady with someone else and he has no intention of breaking up with her. I said “Fine let’s just be friends. Don’t worry Jeff I’m not madly in love with you.” And so I ended before it began.


    Sat Aug 22 – 64
    I never ask about her but he tells me everything. She is three years older than him! He says she is very different from me. He is a very complex person. At least he never makes fun of me which is good because my self hatred is especially strong now. He calls me “Spider Lady” because I’m not afraid of spiders (I quite like them actually. Wolf spiders especially. They’re interesting.)


    Sun Aug 23 64
    Cold and wet. We are all miserable with our canned spam and peaches. Everything I own is soaked – I had to share a sleeping bag with Paul Cook. (Plastic bag didn’t work. The one for my diary is better.) Fortunately he is very nice.


    I get terribly depressed sometimes. I fantasize about hot food and mattresses. Above all I miss reading and privacy. If we ever reach Alsace I’m going to
    1) buy chocolate
    2) call my parents
    I’m going to ask them to take me out to dinner at the Brockton Inn where I can have snowflake rolls with lots of butter.


    It will be nice to hear their voices again. I guess they made their point that life in their prison house beats life in the wilderness. Too bad they don’t understand me.
    Stu keeps his movie camera dry and he is still taking his famous movies of us singing “The Cruel War is Raging and Johnny has to Fight”.

    MON Aug 24 -64
    Sun! I fished from the canoe and caught 3 nineteen inch pike! We’re eating them for breakfast (the others caught only one.) Strange to be at a campsite when it is still light. Jeff puts his arms around me a lot for a friend but he is an enjoyable person to be with. Chili for dinner! Yum!

  • Wild With Possibility: teen diary of Alysse Aallyn

    Quebec – Thurs – July 2 – 64


    So much to write don’t know where I should start! Quebec is a beautiful city built by dreamers. From the grassy fortress of the citadel to the boardwalks of the wharf I have fallen in love wit it. I loved London, Florence, Paris and Rome and now I have to add Quebec! You could be fooled into thinking that it was a prosperous French seaport.


    Not just the money and signs are different, the people are different as well. We drove all night to get here and when I awoke from my uncomfortable position on the floor we were parked on the Green Plains of Abraham!


    A troop was sent to buy breakfast while the rest of us walked around. I stood on a bluff overlooking the harbor and then sat meditatively on a bench. How beautiful life is, what a precious thing to have! How can people look forward to eternal life when this is so good? Seems greedy to ask for more!


    After breakfast, put on my blue gingham sundress and off to the Chateau Frontenac to use the john. “You can’t miss it!’ said Stu, putting me in the lead because my garbled French has him fooled.
    He underestimated me. I clung to the belief that since Chateau Frontenac is old, big and made of stone, any old big stone building would do. I led my faithful few to a storehouse, a club and the Quebec Institute of Dramatic Art before we wound up at the Quebec Parliament where we wandered up and down the halls.


    After all that fun, Andrea and I were on our own, working on more creative ways of getting lost. A street artist did my portrait for $2. He made me too pretty but flattery will get you everywhere. I’ll give it to Mom in a last-ditch effort to give her some illusions about me. I ruled the sailors and hoods and old men who came after us Unacceptable! Poor Andrea in mourning for her brothers will take anybody but I won’t let her. She wanted a midshipman, I wanted a French beatnik. We found two charming French beatniks (short-ish- my height) who walked us to our bus. Learned a new French word: “ravigoter” to freshen. Two beatniks gave us two kisses each!
    Singing on the bus: Up in the Air, Junior Birdman, Up on the Air, Upside Down! And Down in the Sea, Junior Frogman! Made camp WAY outside Quebec and we were tortured all night by malevolent mosquitoes. Next morning I was so sleepy I didn’t think I could stand up. Fortunately I can sleep at the laundromat. I sent so many postcards!

    July 4, 64 – Stratford Ontario
Happy Independence Day! The trip just began and tonight’s the last night!  I will pitch it to make it really great!
Arrived in Stratford too late to get the mail. Drat. Cruised around town, listened to some bagpipers, then pitched tent on the edge of town.
Dinner was delicious: tuna fish salad (in honor of the Catholics) and doughnut balls (Bisquick blobs in boiling Crisco) for dessert: delicious!  After that, we were all getting ready for the play Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme which I had seen twice and loved in the original French.  In English I should understand so much more.  Wearing my figure-flattering sailor suit  and white wood heeled sandals.

    Unfortunately my hair is dead after all this camping. It isn’t doing anything.
    Stratford is a lovely town and the theatre a splendid combination of old and new. Front balcony seats! The play was very good. At intermission Debbie came over and said two of the ushers were asking about me! I gave my address to the handsome one Dell Rynehardt. They walked us back to the bus Dell holding my hand. I would have let him kiss me but he didn’t try.


    We performed our song, the Trailblazer Anthem and Stu talked about how much the trip meant to him until the tears were hot in my head! I apologized for not doing more for the group and he was very understanding. Afterwards Andrea, Vicky and I slept in the same sleeping bag!!!
    Later –


    Saw the Falls! They were so beautiful but I did think they’d be taller. Too bad we won’t be seeing them by night – must be even more breathtaking than by day.
    Beginning to think tenderly of home, especially the sunlight striking that gray rug in the hallway. SusiAnna (he’s a boy) always hogs the brightest sunlight on the dining room floor. Plants everywhere, green and rich, the wood carved king with his tired kind face. Maybe there will be a letter from Mark!


    Last but not least my room with its green walls and twin pink-covered beds. Furry white flokati rug.
    Ending this on a happy note. Isn’t that the way all good things should end?

    TRAILBLAZER ANTHEM
    Oh we set out from Toledo on a bright and sunny day
    And our parents were there to wave us on our way!
    Gettysburg was our first stop where we made a movie flop
    As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads!
    Bruises and hives, seven campers lost their lives as we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads!
    CHORUS: We’re still moving thank God, still moving Hallelujah! And the bus hasn’t conked out on us yet!
    Valley Forge was just a hop where
    We were picked up by the cops
    And the New York Fair made us spend our money there!
    Hanover we found was a Dartmouth kind of town
    As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads!
    Peanut butter, jam, bug repelling spam oh we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads!
    We flew to old Percé which is on the great Gaspé
    Where we realized French boys just love to fraternize
    “Bonjour, good day, ou est le cabinet?”
    As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads!
    Garçons of all kinds, Stu & Shavonne lost their minds
    As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads!
    We went out to the Boardwalk to see what we could find
    And each girl there had sailors on her mind
    The last two of our hauls were Stratford and the Falls as we rolled along the bumpy Eastern Roads!
    Rollers and combs, without money from our homes
    As we rolled along the bumpy Eastern roads!
    Oh, our sleeping bags were nests for nasty insect pests
    And the mess on our bus was very picturesque
    Though the trailer broke down once
    We’ll remember this for months
    As we rolled along the bumpy roads toward home!
    Impetigo and fleas, we had Band-Aids on our knees
    As we rolled along the bumpy roads toward home!

    Mon July 6 – 64
    Dear Diary, I‘m sure you’re tired of my lovelife, but I’m not. The Trailblazer bus roared into Brockton at 5:30 PM on a hot Sunday afternoon. Passed familiar figures – Haze & Bookie!!! I cried but he didn’t see me. Forgot about Tom & Dell, it’s all Bookie Bookie Bookie! Forced to go to the Pendragon house because my parents are out of town so I called Bookie from there. Bookie rushed over and kissed me. He doesn’t like taking off his mirrored shades but he will remove them for me. Julie & I agreed to meet Bookie & phil at the college snack bar. I care so deeply for him!

  • Wild With Possibility:

    Alysse Aallyn’s Teen Diary

    Thurs. Jun 18 – 64


    You have to forgive my writing – it’s hard to write on a jiggling bus! I snuck out one more time before I left. Andrea and Chase threw candy at my window – Bookie was easier to rouse because he sleeps on his porch. Andrea’s parents were already gone so she opened their liquor cabinet and Chase got drunk. (He is a problem. He steals things from cars. I think this is why he was kicked out of Eastern. ) Bookie and I didn’t have anything – we just wanted to slow dance. We kissed! He promised he will write! Andrea and Chase were making out like mad but Bookie walked me home.

    4:30 AM!
    Up at quarter to seven – too late to have breakfast – off to Toledo! We are getting to know everyone on the Trailblazers bus. I am working on a Trailblazers song to the tune of “Oh It Was Sad When the Great Ship Went Down”.


    Stu & Shavonne are the leaders. They are nice – especially Stu. He wanted a few kids who could speak French and Andrea volunteered me! Let’s hope I can understand enough to manage.


    I slept all morning; we stopped at 1 to each lunch (tinned food) in a motel parking lot. Maybe I can lose some poundage. Looked at a map and selected a park to stay in, (Gettysburg) in Pennsylvania. We slept in sleeping bags on the ground! It was hard as cement. I slept in my cute pink nightshirt. Walking around the park all day looking at monuments. Every now and then you get a whiff of history. Names like “Valley of Death” and “Bloody Run.” Stu posed us dying over a fence for a picture!


    Left Gettysburg driving too fast, the trailer broke free and we had to go to town to get a part. We need to travel tonight to get to the World’s Fair on Saturday.

    Fri Jun 19 – 64
I’ve decided to work on a third person account of my life. (Everybody wonders why I am writing all the time.) Look at myself from the outside in.  Obviously I have to change all the names – for me, chose the name Melantha Clenn. The title is “Dark Flower” which is what Melantha means.  Whew! That was enough work for one day!  My poor brain is exhausted! 
 Last night we reached Valley Forge very late and decided to sleep there.  There was nowhere to camp but thought it would not be too much to sleep by the side of the road.  We no sooner had out sleeping bags out then up comes a fuzz car!  (Stu referred to him later as Officer Remedial.)  No amount of pleading would work; he ordered us to “follow” him.  I guess he thought he was on Dragnet or something.  We weren’t even told where we were going!  Straight to the Valley Forge Police Station! Shavonne and Stu were led inside and the rest of us just sat there arguing about whether our camp counselors would be arrested for contributing to the delinquency of minors! 
But when they came out they said we would be allowed to sleep on some rocks behind the fire station!
I do miss Bookie but for some reason think mostly of Mark!  I’ll send him a postcard from Gettysburg: North Carolina memorial is a good one.

Sun Jun 21 – 64 – YMCA Camp in Poughkeepsie, New York
Can’t believe we’ve been on this trip four days only! For such a motley crew of sixteen girls and two counselors we are very compatible.  Two of the girls are childish which I actually don’t like. 
Shavonne is a sweet person. She is plain though with a very bad figure. She is certainly not distracting Stu from thinking about his girlfriend who he says we will all meet!  Shavonne is reading The Agony and the Ecstasy, says its very good and will lend it to me when she’s finished. (It’s a big fat book and she seems to read onl8 4 pages at a time! She was impressed that I’ve seen the Sistine Chapel.)

    Michelangelo says: “the promises of this world are phantoms and to have faith in oneself and become something of worth and value is the best and safest course”.


    Stu is broadminded – I think Daddy would approve. But he does have fits of anger and bursts of gloom. He’s a Catholic and says we should all get a chance to attend mass! I found the sermon interesting and the hymns beautiful but the Latin is annoying. Andrea and I left early because we had signed up for horseback riding at eleven thirty and when we returned for lunch Stu was furious! Said we were rude! We offered to be waitresses to get back into his good graces.
    Andrea and I have a room to ourselves in the South Barn. Boys in the North Barn!


    The World’s Fair is no Disneyland but it was interesting. Andrea and I pretended to be French! I got an ID bracelet with a big A on it. (I got another for Avril’s birthday.) I love it and I never take it off. Andrea and I saw Peter and Gordon who were performing – all the girls screamed and we screamed right along with them. I hadn’t heard of them before but I like their Willow song. Also the Eggheads and the Esquires. We were separated from the performers by a pool and a lot of kids jumped in! Andrea and I danced instead while 3 men filmed us with movie cameras! The only performer whose autograph we got was Danny Taylor. He was very nice, says he’s been doing this since he was 13.

    Mon. Jun 22 - 64
Thinking strange powerful thoughts.  I guess it is another mood coming.  How can I think of Bookie and death in the same thought?  Probably because I feel bad about Mark. I didn’t say the things he wanted and I didn’t want him to say the things I thought I wanted!  Bookie is outgoing and clever but less scary somehow.  Do I like being the one who cares more? I don’t think I want to be in this boat alone!  I hate myself for complicating my life! 
Now, meeting so many new people I am having to worry whether people like me.  Andrea called me “ugly” several times yesterday.  She was trying to hit a tender spot but I think she was really feeling the opposite! So there goes that relationship! 
I would rather not be hideous. 
Dark Flower coming along pretty well.

Mystic Seaport, CT – Tues June 23 – 64
Awful night!  Laura stole my diary and read it!  Made me so mad!  And that’s not all. We were sitting around the camp fire singing songs and I saw Laura and Andrea  planning something in the woods.  Said they are sneaking out to meet four boys and did I want to come!  I was all for it!  Laura, Chris, Andrea and that awful Julie who keeps tagging along. 
Unfortunately the minute I saw the boys I wanted to leave! They looked like hoods to me, but I couldn’t talk anyone else into leaving. Andrea started making out with a complete stranger immediately!  I talked to an ugly lug named Ralph, but when I told him about Bookie he kept his hands off. Then who should appear but Stu!  He knew all about it!
I told him nothing happened and he was very sweet.  Said he gives me credit for a  lot of common sense, says I am one of “the most intelligent fourteen year olds he’s ever met!  Others not so much. This AM when I woke up my eyelids were swollen: gnats bit them almost shut!
Really liked Mystic Seaport.  We toured the beautifully restored ships. Here’s a picture of the Charles Morgan. Bought ships-in-a-bottle for all family members and sent postcards to everyone.
Stu staged another of his “movies”.  I was a barmaid! 

Mass & N. H – Fr. Jun 26 – 64
Having a ball! We are in Hanover NH at Dartmouth College. What a pity its not co-ed or I would go there.  We went to Boston and rode the MTA – saw a lot of Harvard!  Met Stu’s girlfriend who is a waitress at an ice cream store! They just stare at each other adoringly.  Luckily she gave us free ice cream because now I have exactly seven cents to my name.  Writing home desperately for money.  I owe Vicky 5¢, Sally 10¢ and Chris 5¢.
Stu goes to Dartmouth and he was eager to show it off.  Not having seen boys for DAYS Andrea and I were principally interested in finding one or two or FOUR THOUSAND. 
It didn’t take long!  The few girls we’ve seen are nothing much so the Trailblazers bus is getting a lot of attention!   At Hopkins Hall we picked up seven eligible males, all of them cute who promised to visit our campsite and say hi.  Stu is not too sure about this.  A particularly cute boy named Tom Morris said, “We can’t help it if we sleepwalk, can we?”
I was Head Cook that night and while stirring the ravioli was not too surprised to see the bushes rustling.  When we sat down to eat they jumped out to say hi!  Stu made them go away.  They kept loitering around making it hard to go to the bathroom.   
When I climbed into my sleeping bag Morris scared me to death jumping out from behind a tree!  We talked for hours, promising to write each other. We have a lot in common (He is 5’11’!) but I don’t see how we can be more than friends. 

Percé on the Gaspé – June 28 – 64
I seem to be in an awfully good mood right now!  Probably because we’re on the move, singing our latest camp song to the tune of 500 Miles, “If you miss the bus we’re on, You will know where we have gone

    You will see the garçons trailing on behind…”


    Who would guess an all-girl trip would be so much fun!


    Poor Alain! He is a French boy from Montreal that I met here. He is cool. MARK, BOOKIE, MORRIS and now ALAIN. I’ve “got” them except I haven’t got any of them! It’s either sheer starvation or crowd control? You can see I really do have problems! The question is: which of them do I want? The $64,000 question!

  • Wild With Possibility: the teen years of Alysse Aallyn

    Wed. Jun 10 – 64


    A great summer is ahead! I’m excited – home life’s been getting pretty tough. Can’t say whether that’s my fault or not. I have many ideas on the subject – you will probably be forced to hear them later. Mom tells me I am too independent; that I am constantly trying to be an island unto myself.

    Camp Stark is a YMCA camp. They call it Camp Tarantula because of the Amenities (more like Eumenides. Greek.) This camp attempts to Instill Christian Character.  I don’t know how much Christian Character I already have – it all seems to be ebbing away.  At the end of the summer I may have even less. But it sounds like a lovely place to go.  Shastain, MI meets my requirement of Not Being In Ohio. We heard about it through the Imries.  My mouth started to water when I heard at Horsemanship Division you work with your own horse!  Do you impart Christian Character to them or do they impart Horse Character to you? I can but wonder; unfortunately I first have to go through Freshman Division. I was on the waiting list – it was only a week ago that I was told I was in if want an all-girl Trailblazer trip back East! !!  My friend Andrea is going, too!  She is fun but thinks boys were made to be taken advantage of.  Her trip to camp is not for a good reason – her two brothers were killed in a motorcycle accident (drunk driver.)  Now it’s just her and her parents and apparently they need to be alone. 

What with buying and packing and marking my days are just filled up!!!

Thurs. Jun 11 – 64
I knew sooner or later I’d have to acquaint you with family problems. Poor diary. My reputation around here is Slovenly Loaf who has never done a day’s work in her life. Most of the time I creep around the walls trying not to be seen but yesterday I swept the porch and washed twenty-eight screens – I call that hard work for a summer day when all my friends are at the pool. But I don’t get any thanks, it’s all “Poor you.” So why try? Today I’m supposed to clean the house!  I hope they don’t come in here to check on me!

Maybe mother can’t understand me but I understand her.  And I forgive her.  I will permit myself only to see the kindness that is there.  Remind me to read this when I become angry and tearful. Daddy’s in the hospital with an infected kidney but it’s not serious. 

John Bookover invited me to the dance tonight!  I don’t know why since he thinks Mary Ann Murphy likes him (she denies it.) It certainly is great to be a girl!  The town dances are at the Fisher Food Pkg Lot!  “Dancing in the Streets” blasts from a truck and all the teenagers come!  I’m finding Mark a lot easier to forget than I thought. John is very skinny but he is willing to dance fast which is rare. All the boys want to dance as slow as possibly.  A dance would look like a wake if it was up to them.

Sun. Jun 14 - 64
Bookie (everyone calls John Bookie)  invited me & Andrea out at night to join him & Chase.  Andrea and I wore jeans and our father’s white shirts.  Andrea told Genevieve which I knew was a mistake (she is very righteous) and we only got as far as the garage. “Tell your friends goodnight” said Mom through her teeth. Alysse the juvenile delinquent!  Oh well! I don’t like foursies anyway. (Double dates.) Date to play tennis instead. Bookie definitely doesn’t care for me as much as I care for him.

Thurs. Jun 18 – 64
You have to forgive my writing – it’s hard to write on a jiggling bus!  I snuck out one more time before I left. Andrea and Chase threw candy at my window – Bookie was easier to rouse because he sleeps on his porch. Andrea’s parents were already gone so she opened their liquor cabinet and Chase got drunk. (He is a problem.  He steals things from cars.  I think this is why he was kicked out of Eastern. ) Bookie and I didn’t have anything – we just wanted to slow dance. We kissed!  He promised he will write! Andrea and Chase were making out like mad but Bookie walked me home. 4:30 AM! 

Up at quarter to seven – too late to have breakfast – off to Toledo!  We are getting to know everyone on the Trailblazers bus. I am working on a Trailblazers song to the tune of “Oh It Was Sad When the Great Ship Went Down”. 

Stu & Shavonne are the leaders. They are nice – especially Stu. He wanted a few kids who could speak French and Andrea volunteered me!  Let’s hope I can understand enough to manage.
I slept all morning; we stopped at 1 to each lunch (tinned food) in a motel parking lot.  Maybe I can lose some poundage.  Looked at a map and selected a park to stay in, (Gettysburg) in Pennsylvania. We slept in sleeping bags on the ground! It was hard as cement. I slept in my cute pink nightshirt. Walking around the park all day looking at monuments.  Every now and then you get a whiff of history. Names like “Valley of Death” and “Bloody Run.” Stu posed us dying over  a fence for a picture!

Left Gettysburg driving too fast, the trailer broke free and we had to go to town to get a part.  We need to travel tonight to get to the World’s Fair on Saturday.

Fri Jun 19 – 64
I’ve decided to work on a third person account of my life. (Everybody wonders why I am writing all the time.) Look at myself from the outside in.  Obviously I have to change all the names – for me, chose the name Melantha Clenn. The title is “Dark Flower” which is what Melantha means.  Whew! That was enough work for one day!  My poor brain is exhausted! 

 Last night we reached Valley Forge very late and decided to sleep there.  There was nowhere to camp but thought it would not be too much to sleep by the side of the road.  We no sooner had out sleeping bags out then up comes a fuzz car!  (Stu referred to him later as Officer Remedial.)  No amount of pleading would work; he ordered us to “follow” him.  I guess he thought he was on Dragnet or something.  We weren’t even told where we were going!  Straight to the Valley Forge Police Station! Shavonne and Stu were led inside and the rest of us just sat there arguing about whether our camp counselors would be arrested for contributing to the delinquency of minors! 
But when they came out they said we would be allowed to sleep on some rocks behind the fire station!
I do miss Bookie but for some reason think mostly of Mark!  I’ll send him a postcard from Gettysburg: North Carolina memorial is a good one.

Sun Jun 21 – 64 – YMCA Camp in Poughkeepsie, New York
Can’t believe we’ve been on this trip four days only! For such a motley crew of sixteen girls and two counselors we are very compatible.  Two of the girls are childish which I actually don’t like. 

Shavonne is a sweet person. She is plain though with a very bad figure. She is certainly not distracting Stu from thinking about his girlfriend who he says we will all meet!  Shavonne is reading The Agony and the Ecstasy, says its very good and will lend it to me when she’s finished. (It’s a big fat book and she seems to read only 4 pages at a time! She was impressed that I’ve seen the Sistine Chapel.)

    Michelangelo says: “the promises of this world are phantoms and to have faith in oneself and become something of worth and value is the best and safest course”.


    Stu is broadminded – I think Daddy would approve. But he does have fits of anger and bursts of gloom. He’s a Catholic and says we should all get a chance to attend mass! I found the sermon interesting and the hymns beautiful but the Latin is annoying. Andrea and I left early because we had signed up for horseback riding at eleven thirty and when we returned for lunch Stu was furious! Said we were rude! We offered to be waitresses to get back into his good graces.
    Andrea and I have a room to ourselves in the South Barn. Boys in the North Barn!


    The World’s Fair is no Disneyland but it was interesting. Andrea and I pretended to be French! I got an ID bracelet with a big A on it. (I got another for Avril’s birthday.) I love it and I never take it off. Andrea and I saw Peter and Gordon who were performing – all the girls screamed and we screamed right along with them. I hadn’t heard of them before but I like their Willow song. Also the Eggheads and the Esquires. We were separated from the performers by a pool and a lot of kids jumped in! Andrea and I danced instead while 3 men filmed us with movie cameras! The only performer whose autograph we got was Danny Taylor. He was very nice, says he’s been doing this since he was 13.

  • Queen of Swords: a novel

    Duel between a stepmother and stepdaughter turns deadly.

    Charmian:
    Chapter I – The Knight of Swords

    My mother was bitten by a coachwhip while carrying me; that’s how I got my second sight.  My stepfather, not a witness to the event but someone who always had the be the smartest person in any room he was in and the greatest living authority on everything, said it wasn’t a coachwhip but a blue runner and it never would have killed her anyhow.  It wasn’t until I left home that I discovered they’re the same snake.  So that argument, like most they had, was entirely pointless.

    She would have killed me deader than any snakebite but she was too fat to even realize she was pregnant. So that was the first lucky thing in my lifetime string of magical good fortune, the second being that I didn’t drown in the toilet. Let’s say my “home birth” was quite a surprise.


    To those blessed with second sight time is circular. There I was: an old soul born to pawns of fate just up from rats. When they come back it will be as cockroaches. I was seventeen when I came into my royal nature as Queen of Swords. The Queen ‘s blood is power, intuition is her oxygen, action is her throne. I am the only one who recognizes truth. My sword cauterizes like a laser. You might as well submit; you’ll feel better after. All living creatures, whether they know it or not, draw breath in fealty. I grant consciousness and unconsciousness; just as I choose.


    This morning, I pulled a card, as is my daily custom. And there you were, my Knight of Swords, leaning down from your horse to penetrate a dragon’s proffered belly. I must have need of you because when I summoned; you came. My late husband used to say, “When the servant is ready, the master will appear.” He thought he knew who was the servant and who the master — a dangerous assumption to make when I’m around.


    In my beautiful Doré deck this Knight is teen-mag handsome, with a carved-marble face, blocky jaw and a panther’s square nose. Luxuriant blonde hair, rippling into curls, is tied back for battle. His quiver contains a multitude of arrows unlike the poorly-equipped King of Swords. A “suicide king”; his blade is turned against himself.


    This knight is also slightly cross-eyed, like a Siamese cat. Does it mean that, like me, you see forward and back? I almost feel I’m looking at an echo of my double-eyed face – one eye green and one eye blue. He is ready to launch himself on his heroic quest; but one eye still looks behind him.


    There’s fate for you. Even when you don’t believe in it, it believes in you. Let this card inaugurate my new life. I have been feeling something missing. My ideal lover is out there waiting for me to find him. In a way, I feel I have invented you. Or perhaps you, lonely as only gods are lonely, have invented me. I rose up out of one of your nocturnal emissions in my most seductive guise. Blonde (of course), full-breasted (of course), boy-hipped, five feet eleven in stilettos. Come and get me.
    Since I can recall eternity I must have always been here. We are primal elements: archetypes. We are fated to meet maskless. History itself evolves to smooth my path. I will teach you mastery of the future. I inserted your card in a gilt display box and left exposed it to the consideration of the universe on my mother-of-pearl dressing table.


    I live surrounded by beautiful objects, such as this suede book in which I write with my ivory pen. I too lived my early life as a beautiful object, much sought after by collectors. Beauty is my birthright, but conquest has leaves me lonely.
    Until now.

  • Inspired Pleasure

    Diary of a Dancer

        10:00 PM – Party Castle – Wed 27 Jun 79
            The inevitable panic reaction has set in – am I out of

    my friggin MIND? But it’s my battle and I’m dealing with it. I hear myself
    saying WAY too much around him as if tempting him to find something to
    be disgusted by and to reject me – why can’t I just shut up and enjoy this?

    Because I can’t believe he really loves the real me – we haven’t seen
    each other in 10 years. I plunge gratified into the dizzying sensory
    experiences – he is very sexual and willing to talk about it – everything
    he says turns me so ON. Heavenly night of ecstatic sex.  Trying to
    go SLOW, not empty out my bag of tricks all at once. I resent my own
    anxieties and my fear of being vulnerable. Here at work I wrote a poem
    about our past – The Duel. Will I ever be able to show him?


      I even like his snobbishness – he’s more elitist
    I guess you’d say. He assumes we’re “up there” – and it’s others job to
    qualify, to climb up to “our level”! That’s so refreshing after Usher Glayne’s
    weirdness! He just takes it for granted we’re in a class by ourselves; special
    people trying to do special things. And our tastes are so similar. He doesn’t
    plan to stay in Kentucky – wants to live in New England with its fall, its
    woodstoves and frozen lakes. I can barely comprehend such confidence 
    much less contain it. Imagine being free forever from the fear that the
    party’s happening elsewhere. We ARE the party.


    I said I felt safe with him – he said he wasn’t sure
    that was justified – looked at me like a beast longing to rend, but restraining
    itself. Wild frissons! He must be horrified by how fast things are going –
    I have never met a man who wouldn’t be. But he’s driving this train. Told
    me he’s been so celibate lately – very upfront discussing his discouraging
    relationship with a virginal anorexic perfectionist frightened by everything
    who compensates by torturing herself and all the people around her. In a
    flash I realized, that’s exactly what Devon is also.


    Toss says he feels “stormed” by me –dizzied – by who
    and what I am, the summit of my “magnificence”. Wow! Such flattery very
    scary. How can he possibly mean it? Yet he seems so honest, so open.
    What will he do when he finds out I am human after all – a creature of mud
    and sludge like everyone else?


    Reading Margaret Drabble’s The Needle’s Eye  –
    not so good as The Waterfall – beginning to be turned off by her towers
    of verbiage. My own life is so much more interesting. Good phone con-
    versations with Toss – I am beginning to trust him. When I told him what
    I do for a living he was totally unfazed. “I knew you couldn’t get that body
    walking!” Tomorrow we explore Annapolis.

      Party Castle 12:05 am 2 July 79
    Wrote D an angry farewell poem.

    “HOW DID YOU MEET?”

    You saw me naked
    I saw you too close- up.
    You hovered, teaching
    Between the green glimpses.
    You drank vodka,
    I drank wormwood.
    You cut mountains down to size;
    I’d no idea that one could take such charge of space.
    Now I’m a toad-dweller,
    Nostrils pierced by thorns I
    Fall face-first into every hole;
    You were the king the ghost pines saluted.
    How you dove and danced!
    Speeding through your love-drunk universe, you
    Infected me with your own whiteness
    Dizziness, till all my blood drained out.
    You challenged God;
    I was the echo following after.
    Yet here I am after all this time
    And nothing promised remains of you.

    Or, “Good luck with Sleeping Beauty’s castle!” That’s what he gets for
    messing with my heart. Can’t show anyone – most certainly not him –
    and it isn’t really finished – and I don’t think it ever will be. But thank
    God for diaries. Diaries can be told anything.
       Reading Secrets in the Family – it is so superb
    I am going to buy copies for all my sisters. Looking forward to discussing
    it with Toss. I’m beginning to miss him now – he’s so deep and interesting
    to be around – so alive on many more levels than anyone else – challenging
    all my levels. Falling in love – happy, crazy.

        Thurs 11:05 – Plush Palace – 5 July 79
            Back at The Plush – its catch as catch can in my

    present situation. I am alienating managers left and right. But I am happy
    crazy and who cares?

                Because on the third of July Toss asked me to

    marry him and I said yes! Here’s how it happened. On Monday night
    we ate white clam linguini and crenshaw melon while listening to Keith
    Jarrett’s Koln Concert – then – came together in delicious, soul-freeing
    sex; two perfectly matched combatants recognizing each other not just
    from childhood and youth but school and dreams. He was eager to learn
    how I could best be pleased – so I surrendered to the inevitable. Fireworks!


    He left me sleeping there in the AM – I heard thumping
    downstairs but I know he has roommates so didn’t think anything of it –
    when he came back for lunch he discovered the door broken in and my
    purse missing. Keys, wallet, everything. I had to call into work – had to
    call a locksmith to give me keys to my car.


    Toss doesn’t know what else they stole because he
    doesn’t know what else is supposed to be in this house – called his
    roommates. They came, police came. So we spent a day of intense
    babbling and the worst kinds of petty annoyances – but none of it mattered
    because he was there. In fact, I welcomed it; it was an extra opportunity to be together.


    At one point I said, you know, you’re everything I’ve
    ever wanted in a man. He said, if I believed that, I’d ask you to marry
    me. I said, if you did I’d say yes. So he said, “Do you want to get married?”
    I said, “I think so,” and there it was! He said I’m the only woman he
    has ever wanted to marry much less asked. We even chose the
    children’s names – there are going to be two of them – a boy and a
    girl of course; one named after Reed and one a combination of our
    addresses! Had to call Aunt Frederica to give her the good news because
    she’s the one who had to give the hospital permission to stitch me up
    ten years ago after our first unfortunate night together! (She was drunk
    of course.) Toss asked me to come back to Kentucky for his last year
    of law school. I “shouldn’t miss this part of his life.” Dogs too, natch –
    we are a package deal.


    He has a house he’s rehabbing that has so many
    rooms it is known as the Hilton. When I said I would come that was
    more important to him than our engagement even. He says I can file f
    or divorce in Kentucky’s understanding Commonwealth. He ordered
    a case of Moet Chandon, saying now we have to drive up the coast and
    tell everybody. I am a little scared to tell my parents – this suddenness
    might only seem another strike against me. We told Avril and Maureen
    – they just stared – obviously thinking we both have lost our minds –
    it will take them awhile to believe in it.  I told Avril about Kentucky –
    she says she can handle the house; she can always rent out my
    room to a college student if she feels pinched. I want to leave some
    money with her – at least $1000 – had the brilliant idea to sell my car.
    Wouldn’t want to be impoverished in Kentucky and I don’t want to
    be on “retainer” from T.


    Last night I read Toss The Duel and his eyes
    filled with tears! He said the only flaw he sees in this arrangement
    is that one of us must surely predecease the other! Could it really
    happen? Could we grow old together? Could it be that I will never
    make love to another person? Wrote a short note to Bruce,
    telling him I will definitely be needing a divorce, sooner, rather
    than later. Now I am trying to write a short note to D; but honestly,
    what is there to say?   Summing up our relationship seems only
    to dismiss it. He has already fallen far, far back into the past. Toss is my future.


    The Duel

    Europe without you
    Was a funeral feast.
    I recall the procession of your letters
    Far better than
    The stream of luckless suitors
    Trying to distract me.
    Virgins aren’t distractible.
    Your seductive missives stalked me.
    Your fatal ploy was that nude photo
    Adam lonely in his garden.

    I came right home.
    I well recall the ceremonies
    Of that night!
    Your shyness
    My perfume
    Our ignorance
    Wild and hard
    A riderless horse.
    I did cry out as the candles burned.
    I swear there were some moments when
    We actually saw each other.
    But if this magic sword cuts both ways
    Why was I the only bleeder?
    They peeled me off
    And dropped me down a mile
    Of antiseptic hallway –
    A princess in a bucket.
    It could have ended there
    But at your school I haunted you
    A chilly-breasted demon.
    My daytime incarnation seemed mature:
    I fooled everyone;
    We chatted as you prepared the skin.
    I bit down hard and
    Tasted only
    Suture wire.
    You wrote and broke off
    Our association.
    Years groaned by
    Like convicts chained
    We served our terms with no time off
    For bad behavior.
    Lust had luster,
    Excrement was ecstasy.

    The castaways the whirlwind
    Flung upon the sand
    Were calm, polite
    We knew our way around. But
    That look you gave me!
    Our unborn children shivered
    In their sausage skins
    Fully aware
    Their time had come.
    The tale was done
    The frog-mask
    Shivered off
    We saw:
    The you of you
    The me of me –
    Masks
    Unmirrored
    Scars
    Unscored
    Virgins not but
    Innocence
    Restored.