10 Oct 63
At last on the plane! (TWA flight 801 Athens-Rome-Paris-New York – Chicago, that’s us! Awoke this AM in the Amonia Hotel in Amonia Square. No breakfast because cooks on strike. Bunch of men came in, rolled up their shirtsleeves and tried to cook breakfast for several hundred starving people. Admirable in spite of the fact my tea contained pieces of what looked like shredded napkin. Long wait at the Athens airport. Paris! Hideous problems trying to find a hotel. Saw Marcel Marceau in person at the Renaissance theatre! “La cage” is a masterpiece. Off to the SS France and the US of A! (“Give me your poor, your tired, your huddled, your yearning masses. Whatever.”) 16 Oct 63 We leave ‘The France.” Great boat. How different I am from what I was! Sun. Nov 24 – 63 – Brockton, Ohio What keeps a diary from becoming a hateful duty? Absolute honesty. Yes I am afraid of someone reading it but the “unexamined life is not worth living.” My soul is a warm, wet place, warm with love and wet with tears. What is it that I long for, love or security? Parents & sisters love me – perhaps even Aunt Nina feels something in her frozen heart. It must be hard never to have loved or been loved. (Uncle Burt’s “love” is not worth having.) What a sentimental goop I am but I want to be number one in someone’s life. I want someone who values my love as a precious diamond, who opens his heart to mine. What could be more beautiful than awaking from a terrible nightmare to snuggle closer in his love? If this could happen to me just once the awful turmoil in my soul would subside. I hope this is not just a feminine quality. I hate my feather-brained weakness. Mom just came in and bellowed about what a shambles mine and Genevieve’s room and bathroom is. (And because she’s away at school it’s all my fault.) Does she not see the shambles my soul is in? So much for the internal “me” let’s look at the external. Avril and I are fighting left and right for a TV. I still think we won’t get one. Avril has no tact or diplomacy but relies on having been spoiled rotten all her life. I spilled ice cream on the pajama coat I finished sewing for school – how I dread that home ec teacher. But the really important thing is that our president has been assassinated. I was sick to my stomach when I heard it – he is a wonderful man and we sailed past his wife (when she was on the Christina). It was a personal loss. When I say he understood us it is the highest compliment. I figured out why I like cats so much! They read my soul.
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Alysse Aallyn
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