Failure was always an option! I don’t know where the month went. I was waiting so much of the month, for something new to happen or to emerge from somewhere. And here, locked in to quiet of my room, nothing much happened at all. I feel a great sense of loss for the month that never began. I never quite seemed to find the right way to approach the days, and so many of them I spent sleeping… long indulgent sleeps. Were they brought on my depression, loneliness, laziness, seemingly chronic infections? I can’t rule any one of those things out I suppose. It’s everything. The weight of endings.

I think I’ve started to let go of the expectations I had of myself, but in doing so I find that the future is scary when it doesn’t come with those expectations. What do you mean by “I can do anything I want…”? Can I, though. What is all of this?

I’ve spent a few weeks now going through Mom’s 1968 diary, researching the references as I go, to try and understand Mom at 14. And that’s a bizarre thing to expect; I don’t understand myself at 14. How can I possibly understand her. Maybe I should pull out my own 14 year old writings, compare them to hers. It is only logical that the things going through my own mind would be similar to what might be going through hers. People are fundamentally the same over time. What terrible things would I discover about her? About myself? Maybe nothing. Maybe I’ll find nothing more than the innocent musings of childhood by two people who are not yet fully realized.

It’s so odd and arbitrary how we demarcate our lives with calendar months, but it still feels like a dawn is coming and the new month washes us clean of the old. It’s all just random nonsense, but I feel it so deeply. I hope this next period is fruitful. I love feeling alive, productive, busy. The routines I once cherished have unravelled, but I could start again; start to weave them back together until I find something new to gird my days.

To May, and to hopeful tomorrows.

30 April 2026  10:30 p.m.  57ºF/14ºC (cloudy)

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Saturday 1 June 1996

As I went to work I realized the excitement and joy of the opportunity I have made possible for myself.  I am going to France!  I will be allowed to remain in another country for a time of two weeks!  Chessie starts today.  I hope she works out. If she does we’ll share hours at work.  I just don’t know what to think.  Tomorrow we will be going to Tulsa.  Brad is going for a week.  I will be going to the airport with Ann Monday morning.  Wow!!  My first plane, my first out-of-country experience and the first time I’ve gone East of Arkansas.  I just cannot wait.

» 27 August 2007

In truth, this was not an opportunity that I had created for myself.  Far from it.  This opportunity was made possible by the generosity of my Mimi and Papa, as well as sizable donations from my parents.  I had worked for a year and saved almost nothing.  It was not me who got me there, but my family who realized that I really wanted to go.

I did know what to think about sharing my job with the new girl who was starting.  I didn’t like it.  I felt liked I had worked really hard to be important to the Villa, where I worked, and didn’t appreciate having someone come in to “help,” as it just seemed like she was cutting my paychecks in half, which she did. In the end, she did not work out and I worked alone until I left for college over a year later.  Interesting side note:  my one and only date with a girl was with Chessie.  We went to the fair in September of the same year.  It was actually a lot of fun.

» 27 February 2016

I’m so excited to revisit this journal after twenty years.  I cannot believe it’s been so long!  Recently, I was driving my nephew home from my parents’ house and it dawned on me that he is only two years younger than I was when I went to France.  That seems so untrue and amazing that I hardly knew what to do with that information.  It was during that talk that we discussed the concept of memory.  He was asking me about the concept of time seeming to go by when one is older.  I thought about that and hypothesized that perhaps what is at play is how our memories can stick to us, how things that happened decades ago can seem so clear still, as though those things might’ve happened yesterday.  The older we get, the more of those memories we have and it all just starts to feel compressed as if life hadn’t been as long as it was.

I remember 1996.  I remember it like I remember last month.  I remember my feelings, my desires, my motivations, and my philosophies.  I remember my secrets.  I remember spending lunches with my friends buying CDs at the local music store, and how much I loved my time washing dishes at my job because it gave me time to drift away into my own thoughts.  I remember the feeling of being caught between loving my family whose company I truly valued and needing very much not to be around them.  I remember spending too much time with my friends.  And I remember not being all that adventurous or daring, a trait I have always attributed to being very cerebral and lost in my own head.  I did not have a wild side; it never seemed to develop, which has been disappointing at various points during my life, but ultimately, I’ve been satisfied with being grounded.

In my teens, I romanticized everything, and often wondered if others were doing that as well.  At fifteen or sixteen, I didn’t have those words for my friends, didn’t understand the value of an open heart, and so I’d wonder about how people see the world for a long time.  It wasn’t until I had nephews and nieces that I got to see other people who were experiencing the world in ways that seemed so familiar.  My oldest nephew, the one with whom I discussed memory, has a tendency to romanticize his world.  It’s nice to see things through rose-colored glasses — I still try to wear them as often as possible — but he will experience a fair amount of disappointment when the world reveals itself for what it really is, a feeling that nobody can prepare him for.

Favim.com-9757France stood as a fantasy world, somehow existing in our modern world as both very much a part of the 1930s, 1960s, and somewhat 1980s.  To my sixteen year old eyes, it seemed not lost in time, but purposely wrapped in the past, a land joyously refusing to become something it did not want to be.  I loved that about it and could not have cared less about how unlikely my notions of French life might be.  I wanted so much for it to be that land I had invented.

The opportunity to go to France had been presented in 1994 in French class.  I was only too eager to join the group, assuming that others in my class would go as well… friends.  I looked forward to it from the moment I saw the green light in the eyes of my parents and grandparents.  I was told I’d have to pay for half, which motivated me to get a job in 1995, but my youth would ultimately stand in the way of acting responsibly and saving money.  I never really did.  The trip should’ve been called off, but perhaps the adults in my life realized the size of this opportunity.  Perhaps they knew its impact would last well beyond the two weeks we would be gone.  Perhaps they knew that I had in fact worked hard at my job, in spite of my lack of ability to save the money, ultimately deciding to reward me for that.  I’m not sure.  What I do know is that I was allowed to go.  I was not prepared, not mature enough, but I was going anyway.

Sunday 2 June 1996

1_9cd8580cbcd0e41e8765f55eb60c4e3cI am at Ann’s.  This morning we did not go to church but rather we went to Stroud.  There I bought some new headphones, a CD, a get-well card for Mme Wright, and some stuff at the toy store.  I got a Limber Louie, a marionette of an unusual looking bird.  The sides control his feet so that he can appear to walk.  I am having a hard time stopping my thoughts of what France will be like.  I have absolutely no IDEA!  Becky and Brad are going to a work camp where they paint houses.  I also bought some Furr Balls lil’ stuffed toys with rubber faces.  I have had quite a day and can’t wait — think, tomorrow I’ll be on a plane to Paris.  Wow!

» 27 August 2007

Yep, spent a bunch of money BEFORE going to Europe.  I honestly had no idea how dumb that would end up being.  Blue and furry Louie lived in a box for years.  I eventually lost him and now do not know where he ended up.  I do not miss him.

» 27 February 2016

Sometimes things can happen in life and the impact can seem like it will be quite small, but it turns out the be huge.  Shortly before leaving on our trip, the French teacher and our chaperone Mme Wright suffered a brain aneurysm.  She would recover, but was unable to go with us to France.  The parents met and decided to let us go without her.  Money had already been paid — nonrefundable at that point — and most of those going were already eighteen.  I was the youngest at sixteen.  We weren’t going to be left to our own.  We would meet up with another group on our way and their teacher agreed to keep an eye on us.  That group was always going to be with us during the entire two weeks.

Kids should be educated on money and saving in school.  It should come up throughout the twelve years of school and be a mandatory part of the curriculum.  Add to that other everyday skills such as interviewing for jobs, interacting with others in public, how to wait in lines patiently, cooking, cleaning, how to apply for a loan, how to pay back loans.  These are all very important life skills we forget to teach kids.  I always had the things I wanted.  Sure, I remember my mom and dad telling me I couldn’t have this or that, but I never felt like I wanted for anything.  It was a cushy, middle-class life.  Understanding money didn’t play much of a roll at that time in my life.

I was facing a major opportunity, an event so pivotal to my life that I would carry it with me forever.  It would inform my future relationships, jobs, and where I would choose to live.  It would be the thing I would revert to for comfort or when I wanted to remember a certain kind of emotional pain.  And it would take as much money as I could hold onto to keep me going for the two weeks.  Still, I thought it appropriate to buy toys at an outlet mall the day before I left.  I had been doing a lot of fighting to keep the little kid part of me from going forward with me in life, and this is just one example of where I failed.  As setbacks go, it probably seems somewhat inconsequential, but it seems like an important part of understanding who I was in that moment, who I had been until then, and who I ultimately was to become as a result of the trip.

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I want to comment on my journals I kept when I was a child.  This came about as the 20th anniversary of my trip to France approaches and I would really like to update my thoughts and give some back story.  I was 16 at the time of the trip, an age during which I felt extremely self conscious.  Although I expected my journal to remain private, I still left out things I didn’t want others to know.  I wish I could take that trip again.

I should start by pointing out that i haven’t read my childhood journals in a long time.  In the case of the one I kept in Junior High & High School, I haven’t read them since I wrote them.  I have no idea what I had to say, but I’m going to put it out there anyway.

1

Jan. 2 1990

New Years

New Years is sharing,

caring,giving, and loving,

growing, seeing, living,

and moving on.

•Fuchs•

!Happy!

!New Year!

Brian F

2

Dec. 16, 1990

What is Christmas?

Christmas is loving and

caring,

It’s for being with

family and friends.

Christmas is kids

in the snow and puppies

by the fireplace.

It’s for Daddys with

the news paper,

For Mommys sewing

by the fire

Christmas…………….

The best time of the year!

•Fuchs•

Merry Christmas

Brian F

3

Nov. 28, 1990

Weather

Weather, Weather Every-

where,

You find it in the air.

Rain, snow, sleet, sun,

Some are gloomy some

are fun,

Hardy, soft, or inbetween,

Comes down hard and mean.

Now thats weather all

about,

and thats no doubt!

•Fuchs•

Brian F

4

Nov. 29, 1990

A Friend

A friend is what you

make of one,

Not what you want

from one.

•Fuchs•

F. F. L.

r   o  i

i   r   f

e      e

n

d

s

Brian F

Okay, that was mildly embarrassing.  I was 10 when I wrote the first one and 11 for the rest.  What I find the most interesting is that the journal I used was inscribed to me by my dad on November 7, 1988.  I have clearly ripped out some pages, which is unfortunate.  Seeing what I had to write at 9 would have been very interesting.  These poems were clearly written elsewhere and transcribed into this journal at a later date.  I had only recently discovered poetry, so it isn’t surprising that I was trying to write it.  My first poem was written in October 1988.

Fall Leaves

Fall winds swish around leaves of red,

orange, and yellow

The cool sand is nice, you see birds,

the grass feels good

Squirrels and birds gather food, it is

nice to walk around

Pumpkins decorations are neat and

fantastic

Jack-O-Lanterns are now on our porch,

fall has arrived.

Brian Fuchs

I was 9 when I wrote that and it somehow has more to it that the ones I wrote later.  Fall Leaves was written for class, so that could explain why my effort was greater as well.  As for the others, New Years seems to say nothing at all.  What is Christmas? is interesting.  It neither matches my life experience or that of the general population.  It speaks to an idealized Victorian era Christmas that I remember being rather popular in the late 1980s and early 1990s.  Weather is clearly an attempt at rhyming, which I wasn’t terribly great at then and which I don’t attempt now.  Finally, the very short A Friend.  I had several books of proverbs as a kid.  This was almost certainly my attempt at writing my own proverb.

These poems as a whole say very little of my life in 1990.  They don’t have much to say at all really.