Diary pages hold secrets and joys, treasures and tears, hopes and fears; our humanness. Life unfolds and time moves on.  The diary holds the record; it is a precious thing.

If you kept a diary what would you write about?  Secrets.  Lies.  The details of a kiss, a memorable night.  A regrettable encounter.  A time when you were terribly flummoxed.  Firsts.  Lasts.  Favorites.  Wishes.  Disappointments.  Life-changing-moments held forever because they are scribbled on the page of a diary.

I am of a vintage age.  Born in 1950, I am a “Boomer” who came of age during a time of social unrest and radical change.  Racial riots.  Martin Luthar King, Jr.  Flower children.  Free love.  Peter, Paul & Mary.  The Feminist Movement.  Equality.  Gloria Steinem.  Bra-burning.  The Vietnam War.  Protests against the war.  JFK.  The Beatles.  Neil Diamond.  Leonard Cohen.  Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass.

I am mother, mother-in-law, and paternal grandmother.  Oh yes–as I am still in the workforce, I am an employee.  I qualify for other life- and social-role labels, but to include them here would qualify as droning on.  B-o-r-i-n-g! (<Didn’t Jo Anne Worley from Laugh-In say that?)

This stuff is private.  I wouldn’t let just anyone read this. I think I can trust you with my secrets, right?  I hope what you read here will help you in some way.

Let me know, okay?