Then-me

I was looking through my bookshelves this afternoon in search of a misplaced manuscript and found instead a little notebook I kept in college. I'd filled it with movie titles, interesting words, quotations, authors' names, recipes, observations, and even a Christmas card list. It was classic college stuff--a little over the top, a little dreamy, rather over-excited. Part of me smiled today at my younger self, as I'm sure my older self will someday smile at the 37-year-old me, just as she should. But part of me was so delighted to find a record of me before I became now-me. It reminded me that then-me is still in here and I still like her. Here are then-me's observations of a family get-together. Not my family. It was the family of an elderly woman from whom I rented a room one summer during college. I really liked her. Her family had come to celebrate her birthday or some such occasion. I remember thinking that they weren't too good to her. Or at least not as good to her as they might have been. She's gone now, but I still remember her and that summer with great fondness.

Cigarettes, semi-dirty jokes--short, stout, beer-belly, short bristly hair, beer--sweet perfumes & cologne mixed with smoke--women--thin, layered, stringy hair--halter-top with jungle print--low-cut--thin, cheap, large white blazer with black pants & black high heels--no nylons--no make-up thin eyelashes--clothing--cheap, riskless imitations--a vest--obviously designed based on a potentially classy garment--yet falls short in shape and fabric--K-Mart stylish--chugging beer--vodka out on counter--kids--tight spandex shorts & ribbed tank top--hot pink--denim skirt set & red patent leather Mary Janes--kids wander--ask questions--are finally allowed to eat a piece of confetti cake with pink frosting--they start school tomorrow--mother in white blazer explains to hot pink spandex daughter that she will use her old backpack from last year--the little pink one--daughter objects, but no option--mother explains school $ to others--her own tuition at tech is $131--too much to pay for now--they will have to wait--says Tia's school needs require her to pay another $6-10--every dollar counts--when money brought up father becomes serious--asks questions--not afraid, just careful--must be careful--grandmother keeps mulling over her embarrassing fall in restaurant--others add comments--voices are loud, speech-pronunciation is rough & rounded--teasing each other--they ask me my major--"English"--"oh, I speak dat" they say--I am careful not to appear haughty or to put them down, yet I'm not sure what to say or how to react--they seem to expect me to look down on them--which makes me a little sad.
(Summer 1996)