...the Journal

The Guest
Refrigerator Door

The new magnets are from Jeri's refrigerator. Jeri's fridge has some unusual stuff attached to it.

Another of Jeri's favorites is Edward Gorey. She has several of his drawings on her fridge..

* NEW *

Someone suggested I add a discussion board, so I have.

If you have anything to discuss, go to this link. Feel free to start a new discussion on anything.


I'm a Stranger Here Myself

Bill Bryson

I enjoyed his Australia book so much, I decided to try the one about this country.


Battersea Park Road
to Enlightenment

(this is a book I picked up in London)


Will & Grace

That's it for today!


(a guest entry)

8 June 2001

My journal entry the other day about honking horns prompted my friend Diane to reminisce about her childhood and going to the drive-in movies with her family. I so enjoyed what she wrote that I asked her permission to reprint it here. Enjoy!

This produced my memories of my childhood days in Great Falls, Montana, when Dad would take us all to the Drive-In movie.

Carloads of teenagers and families would arrive there sometimes an hour or more before the show.... waiting for "dusk," the only starting time published in the paper. There was much to do while awaiting the start of the movie. A playground was located under the screen where kids could swing, slide and teeter-totter, knock their brains out falling off a jungle gym or get nauseous on a merry go round. There was music playing thru the tinny speaker which you hung over the top of your window and which had only one knob for volume with a range of about 4 decibels if it worked at all.

Adults entertained themselves by shining their spotlights on the screen and chasing each other's beam. And, there was the ever popular snack bar with its never-ending line of movie-goers seeking popcorn, ice-cream bon bons, candy bars, and cola.

Teenagers would let their companions out of the trunk and drink their illegally acquired beers and squeal and wrestle for the best seating in their highly polished cars.

My sister and I usually made the trip to the snack bar and the bathrooms there and our younger brother, usually in his pajamas with feet in them, was relegated to the "way-back." Every family had a station wagon in those days. It was always anticipated that he would fall asleep when "dusk" fell on the Drive-In.

Finally the movie would start and the hours would pass, with little brother talking and asking questions and singing and trying to climb into the front seat with Mom and Dad and being knocked back by my sister and me.

Most of the time it was a double feature. At intermission the challenge was to get to the restroom in the snack bar and back before the lights went out and the next feature started. If you were delayed, you stumbled about in the blackness going up and down the rows of little hills that tilted the cars up toward the screen looking for the car and trying to balance the coffee your parents asked you to bring. If you forgot to count the rows and the cars en route to the snack bar, you could wander aimlessly, looking over your shoulder at the movie for 20-30 minutes. Nearing the car, Dad would toot the horn and scare us so badly that the coffee would jump out of the cups and onto our chests.

By the time the second movie was over, the teenagers had fogged up the windows in their cars, Dad and Mom were asleep and the dreadful little brother in the pajamas was just getting his second wind and was happily pulling our hair and making my sister and me think of killing him even more than we usually did.

At the end of the second movie all cars started their engines before the closing credits started, and as the sound of speakers being chunked back onto their posts, cars were driven forward into the lanes and crawled toward the exit lanes. Everyone there, who had peacefully whiled away a summer evening of 5 to 6 hours, was suddenly in a HORRENDOUS hurry to get home. No one was polite enough to stop and allow cars to enter the exit lane. Much honking ensued. Drivers risked being involved in a crunch by aggressively heading out into the exit lanes. People yelled out their car windows. Teenagers rev-ved their engines, the crackling exhaust pipes bellowing into the night, and tempers flared.

Throughout all that exit chaos, somehow our little brother would finally fall sound asleep and would have to be carried into the house when we finally got home.

Thus was life in middle America, where there wasn't much for entertainment.

One Year Ago:
Stressed? Who's Stressed?

Some pictures from this journal
can be found at
Club Photo

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Created 6/8/01 by Bev Sykes