Past: April 17, 1990

The more things change, the more they stay the same …..

That was my thought as I read the April 17, 1990, entry from my childhood diary. See screenshot below.

I’d forgotten about this memory, but reading this brought it all back.

The screenshot may be difficult for some to read, so I’ve typed it out below. Note: Italics are added — they are not part of the original diary entry. Text in blue is direct from the diary.

It has been a week since I wrote in you. The reason was because I was nothing but lazy. It definitely wasn’t because there was nothing interesting to write about. The holidays [spring break holidays] were fun, but nothing extraordinary. I got to stay down at the nursery with the baby twins.

Then came Friday, the day I had dreamed of for so long. I was “supposed” to go with Aunt Beckie to her school and egg hunt. But Mama thought it best for me to stay [home]. Needless to say, because of her conversation with Aunt Kay. I stayed home willingly and tried to hide my disappointment.

The day wasn’t as bad as I had suspected. I dusted from one end of the house to the other - dreaming. Mama came home around lunchtime. Saturday was exciting. Everyone got together and played baseball.

Then came Easter Sunday. Daddy came and was warmly welcomed. Thank goodness. I think he’ll come home soon. If Aunt Kay will keep her mouth, dreams, suggestions, but most important her lies to herself and no one else. Because if she don’t [doesn’t] that will be another thing one day I will have to revenge [avenge] her for.

Gee, I think I’ll have to revenge [avenge] her for the rest of my life if she doesn’t stop hurting me and my family.

End of diary entry. Now, my thoughts:

To be fair, Kay wasn’t alone. Lash played a similar role. The “talks” referenced in this diary entry weren’t isolated moments—they were a pattern throughout my childhood. And they almost always revolved around the same thing: the time Lara, Les, and I spent with our aunts—Beckie, Tammi, Dianne, Lynda, and Lottie.

At the time, my dad had been excommunicated from the church and was separated from our family for well over a year. My mom was working constantly—long, physically demanding hours for her sisters’ businesses. My siblings and I were, in every sense, latchkey kids.

We lived just a couple of hundred yards from my aunts and grandparents. They worked standard hours and were home in the evenings—times when we often felt the absence of our own parents most. So we gravitated there. Not out of entitlement. Not to take anything away from anyone else. We were lonely, sad kids. And, even then, Kay and Lash had limited compassion and love.

There are so many, many stories just like this. I want to share, but I’m too tired tonight. Stay tuned, more to come.

January 27, 2026