If there is one thing you can accuse me of it would certainly be that I was a complete goomba in the 90s and kept meticulous evidence to prove it. 1997 in particular was a pivotal year for this as I took up writing a Christmas Journal, one that I promised myself would be full of good vibes and happy thoughts unlike my everyday journal that was filled with curses and a lot more rage than any ten year old should have.
The book itself has a cover that could be confused with an I Spy book, a series akin to Where’s Waldo? except you had to look at cleverly arranged collages and read a riddle to find all the particular items. It was a hoarder’s dream; it was my dream. It was also a Scholastic classic.
Inside, I filled the pages with deep reflections upon what advent calendar chocolate I had received that day and even illustrated the schematics of how a Christmas Cracker works – heavy stuff. The grammar is dreadful and the spelling is even worse but my sister and I had a laugh riot reading the entries; I figured you might too.
Forget the ‘r’ in cracker and cornucopia – I spell however I please.
Apparently Candy Cane Lane (a length of houses that decorate to the 9’s come Christmas) has always been a disappointment.
As I got older, the book fell to the wayside and my journals crafted from cut up, out of date textbooks were the norm. The final year, 2000, I wrote 2 entries one of which was a laughable ‘Christmas Wish List’ written in red ballpoint pen which included:
– Black and white striped stockings
– Clothes (so very specific)
– Tickets to Slip Knot, I think they’re coming (Only later to be revised with a “SICK WHAT WERE YOU THINKING!? written over top in blue pen)
– Music i.e. Dead Kennedy’s, Screeching Weasel. Lunachicks, AFI, The Vandals (so punk)
Every year I am confronted with this bizarro tome and I wish I could speak to ten-year-old Sandy and ask her whatever compelled her to start such a specific journal. Then I would ask her about the Revenge Book she penned that pre-dated the now infamous Burn Book from Mean Girls. That’s a whole other story in itself.