October 8, 2013

Under Lock and Key: The Book of Me ... Prompt #SIX

As a youth, I was given a red leather diary with a lock and key.  It was probably something in the nature of a Christmas gift, though I can't recall exactly.

As with many things, I was utterly taken with the notion of writing in my diary.  I remember writing a few lines on the first page with a Bic pen.  Nothing too exciting. I was to discover very shortly that everything I wrote from day to day was to prove quite unexciting on the whole.

My father, who was a perfectionist of the first order, couldn't stand to leave me to write my own observations, so he took it upon himself to a) read my diary b) dictate to me, my diary entries and c) ultimately, fill in a few "exciting" events.

Thus, my greatest recollection of my diary adventures is the day my Aunt, Uncle and cousins came to call for a Sunday meal.  While we were playing downstairs in our unfinished basement, they decided to make me their prisoner and fastened me with rope to one of the weight-bearing poles.

My father took great glee in recording the incident. And so, wherever that diary may now be. (I certainly don't have it.) It marks for posterity that:  "Lynne hog-tied me.  Caused bad feeling.  They left early."

I locked the diary. Threw away the key ... and never wrote in it again.

Small wonder, that anytime I have attempted another diary it has ended in failure.

I will say, that most of my entries in later diaries or journals (however sporadic) were kept well secreted. Mostly, this was to keep my father's involvement out of them, but also because they talked about my biggest obsession: boys!

Thank heavens my chronic need to write and document my life can now be satisfied through blogging!


  1. Oh, Kat, poor you to have your father involved in your diary-writing. Ugh! I think I would have thrown away the key much earlier, or hidden the diary so he couldn't get to it. I'm so glad your writings are now public on your blog!

    1. Thanks, Nancy! That's sweet of you to say. He was a bit of a control-freak, my dad. Amazing I survived it. Thankfully, his other good qualities made up for that.