Reflections
Though each day comes
But once each year
Nay, only once forever
I cannot block
My mind's dispute
That this day's twin
Has dawned before.
It seems as if
The time has lapsed
In naught but
Backward motion,
Encompassing
That long-lost day
E'er before the changes passed.
Perhaps through these
Reflective days,
The mirror
Of more carefree times,
One may rekindle
Tender sparks
Which in the darkness
Burst to flame
To guide and warm
The dismal heart.
Lauren Isaacson
April 5, 1984
April 14, 1984… Started our trip to the Smokies…had a good day.
April 16-19, 1984… Took pictures of forsythia, redbud and rhododendron; the mountains are gorgeous! It has been cold enough for light snowfall in the higher elevation, adding to the beauty of the deciduous trees as well as the pine. Each day I'm having trouble with my bowels… I had to go to a gas station… nearly had a nervous breakdown… it was locked… when I finally got the key, I could hardly get it open in time. I was beside myself with anguish and terror. Shortly before, I had a similar experience with another bathroom. While in a park area, I was afflicted with the dire necessity to "go."… it is difficult to make a nonchalant brisk stride convincing as one hastens to the "john." In Gatlinburg I had yet another siege, but luckily we were at the motel. I drove only two times on the trip. . . sometimes we would have to stop within a very short time… I was so scared! I feel like a Class A Slob!
May 27, 1984… I'm off on another rampage concerning feelings and other people's dogs! I get so infuriated by careless dog owners who believe that everybody ought to love dogs too, (as well as the distasteful traits that go along with them). Mom said that it is just natural for a dog to mark it's territory, that it must be an unchangeable characteristic. I said it could be unlearned. . . did you ever see a seeing-eye dog that paused to mark each tree? The poor blind person would not be able to make it down the street! So much for that subject!
Mom and Dad thought it in my best interest to re-furnish the up-stairs room that had been Norm's. I'll make it into a living room.
May 29, 1984… Death is the end of life on earth as the living perceive it to be, however, man will forever derive solace from the hope that death does not also herald the end of awareness.
Sometimes I wonder why an individual chooses to write at all, for I'm quite certain that there is no thought written today which has not been written previously. It is astonishing to read the words of Plato and his associates, for one discovers again how alike man's thoughts have been throughout the ages. Taken in this scope, it is truly egotistic of someone to claim his ideas as unique at all. We are born and develop at varying rates, but even the highest of minds have no doubt had their equal at some point in time. Despite similarities, I write for necessity rather than immodesty; I have little doubt that my sanity would be thus intact if it were not for the scratches which I frequently mark on a page.
May 30, 1984… I watched the partial eclipse of the sun through a paper-punched hole! Gary and I left for Wild Cat Den at noon. I drove… since Rt. 22 is "under destruction" I had to go on 61 through Blue Grass. We hiked on the trail and I snapped a few pictures. Once the moon passed away from the sun it was hot again; I became rather overheated as we walked back on the road.