#5 - I am the worst person alive in every single sport that has ever been invented. I am sure that if I sat down tonight and invented a new sport that involved marching in a band in a uniform with 2 different socks while doing math equations and humming, and then they picked teams for this tomorrow in gym, I would still be the last one picked.
I wish I had a crystal ball and could see what people will say about me 20 years from now, or at least that things will turn out OK. I hope it doesn't tum out something like, "Sarah Middleton. Loony bin. Hums incessantly. Wears a band uniform 7x24."
One way TV is better than real life: Everything is always worked out in 30 minutes.
July 27, 2001
Today's Anne Frank Quote: Daddy's always so nice. He understands me perfectly, and I wish we could have a heart to heart talk sometime without me bursting instantly into tears.
One thing I am glad about is that my father does seem to understand me a whole lot better than my mother. I guess that's something Anne and I have in common.
It seems like Mom is constantly criticizing everything that I do. "Why didn't you make your bed?" "Are you going to wear your hair like that?' "Have you done your homework yet?" "Who were those people you were hanging out with?" It wasn't always like that - we used to do a lot of stuff together - but it sure has been bad lately.
My Dad is different. We still seem to get along, although lots of times he is really busy at work.
I think it might be because he was a little strange when he was young, too. I will say that if eighth grade yearbook pictures are any guide, he might have been even stranger than me. In his pictures, he has big black glasses and slicked back hair. And lots and lots of nice comments by teachers, and hardly any by kids.
Sometimes I think without my Dad in this house, I would go nuts.
My two sisters aren't much help. My older sister, Katy, is in college. She is going to be a junior at Penn State. She was always the one in our family who did everything right. Good grades. Popular. Cheerleader. She was voted "Best All Around Girl" when they do those yearbook things at the end of senior year. I am personally hoping to win the "Best Random Hummer" award when I graduate from high school. I think my Mom wishes that I were more like Katy.
My other sister, Chrissy, is going to be a senior at Herndon this year. She isn't as much of a student as Katy is, but she's the one that does all the "get elected" stuff. She was the junior class president and I guess she will also wind up being the senior class president. This means she will get her own parking space at the high school. She is president of the Keyette Club. I wouldn't be surprised in she wound up being a Member of Congress someday.
My Mom works downtown at a law firm. She took some time off when all of us were younger, but went back to work a couple of years ago. I guess she figured that once I got into the 6th grade I was OK on my own, but I think it's a gyp that she stayed home all the time Katy was in high school, and at least until Chrissy was in high school. But as usual I got the short end of the stick and she stayed home just barely through most of Dranesville Elementary. Maybe that's why I am so "unusual."
So you can see why it's hard to match my world-class band and math club skills against this set of female role models. Let's do a little comparison:
Major Accomplishments
Sarah
Band, eighth chair clarinet
Math team
Picked last, every team for last 8 years
Katy
Captain, Cheerleaders
"Best All-Around Girl”
Picked first for everything
Chrissy
President, Junior Class
President, Keyettes
Elected first in everything
I read one part in the Anne Frank diary last night and it said, "You can easily see the difference between the way they deal with Margot (that is her sister) and the way they deal with me." Amen to that, sister.
July 31, 2001
Today's Anne Frank Quote: I fell asleep with the strange feeling of wanting to be different than I want to be. or perhaps behaving differently than I am or want to be.
Dear Anne:
The astute reader (not that anyone will ever read this!) will note that I have started out a little differently than my other entries.
Anne always started out her entries "Dear Kitty." She thought it made things more personal and more like she was writing to a friend. So given that I'm starting to like this Anne character a little bit, I am going to pretend that I'm writing to her and that she's writing to me. And given that I could really use a best friend, that seems like a pretty good idea.
In order for this to work, we've got to pretend that we're both the same age at the actual time that I am writing this (in other words, 13). Because otherwise, I would be pretending that I am writing to a 72 year old woman, which would be just way too weird. So let's give this another try ...
Dear Anne:
I know what you mean when you say that you have this "strange feeling of wanting to be different" than you are.
We are so very much alike! Your big sister sounds a lot like either Katy or Chrissy. Everything comes so easy to them. It's like they just snap their fingers, and "poof," everyone thinks they are fabulous. When you say that "Margot's a stinker, a constant source of irritation, morning, noon, and night," I can tell you that sometimes I feel the exact same way about Katy and Chrissy. They don't mean it, but I feel like everybody is always comparing me to them. And that's not fun.
I also read last night that you were upset because your mother constantly picks fights with you and keeps complaining about even the smallest mistakes. I feel like you can read my mind. How can that be? I'm sitting here in Herndon, Virginia, in the United States, writing in English (or as close to English I ever get). You have been dead for 50 years, living in Amsterdam (by the way, why do some people call it The Netherlands and some people call it Holland?), and writing in Dutch I guess. (Looking at my last sentence, it seems a little weird, and don't take it personally about you being dead, but I think you know what I mean.)
Thank goodness I can still stand being around my father. He is the only one right now that I can stand being in the same room with.
Sometimes, Anne, I just don't know how I will manage to get through the next few years with this set of characters.
Your friend, Sarah
August 10, 2001
Today's Anne Frank Quote: The children in this neighborhood run around in their shirts and wooden shoes. They have no coats, no socks, no caps, and no one to help them.
Dear Anne:
Well, looking back over my last few entries (probably not a good idea, because reading what I write is just plain embarrassing!), I can tell you that I must be just about the most shallow person in the world.
I'm sorry it has been so long since my last communication, but I am on vacation. Which is I guess why I'm feeling a little bit guilty. OK, a lot guilty.
Ever since I can remember, we've gone to the same small town on the Outer Banks in North Carolina to go on vacation. It is really a great place. When you go to our beach, it doesn't look like much when you first go there. First of all, it takes a long time to get there. We always seem to get in bad traffic along the way. My Dad always says, ''This year we're going to leave at 6:00 a.m. and beat the traffic." My Mom rolls her eyes when he says this. We usually wind up leaving at 10:30 or so which drives him crazy.
The first sign that we're getting close is when you go across a long flat bridge into Nags Head. This is where the traffic gets real bad sometimes. My Dad always says the traffic is bad because of all the rich people going to Duck and Corolla. They all turn left once you get across the bridge, which is what ties things up. We go right.
We used to stop at a sub sandwich place named Zero's in Nags Head but we don't anymore because it is now called Bob's and there is a sign above the door that says, "Eat and Get the Hell Out." I think the sign is probably why we don't go there anymore. Once you go through Nags Head
, you go across one more very big bridge and then it's just 40 or 50 miles more from there.
There is not much to do at our beach, but that's OK because that's the way we like it. When we're there, and sitting on the beach, especially real late in the day - about 7 o'clock - I can pretty much forget that I'm the square peg in this round hole family.
Once when I was about four years old, I was digging in the sand and found what looked like an old treasure map. It was on brown, stained paper. The date on the note was April 12, 1712 and the note was filled with all sorts of pirate phrases like. "Ahoy" and "Shiver me timbers."
I followed the map and it led me all over the beach. Up to the dunes.
Down towards the lighthouse. Back up the beach and back toward the shoreline. And then finally to a small dune and an X made of twigs.
When I got to the "X" I started digging, and came upon a treasure chest about8 inches long by 12 inches wide. Inside it were all sorts of treasures. Necklaces made of shells. Starfish. Shiny pink and blue and yellow polished mussel shells. There was even a pirate's eye patch and a sword.
I wouldn't tell anyone else this, but it wasn't until I was about 10 years old that I realized that Mom and Dad and Katy and Chrissy had planned the whole thing. I think about them now and sometimes wonder where they all have gone.
But what really gets me sad is that I sometimes think that little 5-year-old gir1 who was so innocent and happy is still waiting for me somewhere on that beach. But instead of walking toward her, I've turned my back and am walking away, very quickly. But toward what, I have no idea.
Your friend, Sarah
August 12, 2001
Today's Anne Frank Quote: The best remedy for those who are frightened, lonely, or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere they can be alone, alone with the sky, nature and God. For then and only then can you feel that everything is as it should be and that God wants people to be happy amid nature's beauty and simplicity.
Dear Anne:
We're still here at the Beach, and I still can't help but feel guilty about how much of a complainer I can be sometimes.
Today was one of those days at the beach that was just perfect. Instead of wanting the day to go by quickly, or just sleeping it away, I wanted to freeze it and just live there forever.
There wasn't much wind, but just enough to keep the big gigantic bumblebees away. Mom has been telling me my whole life that they don't sting, but I don't believe it. When one comes near, you're supposed to stay perfectly still and just let it move on. I try to do that, but after about 5 seconds I just freak out and run toward the water like a crazy person.
My Dad and I always play this game about him getting in the water. He pretends he doesn't want to. I beg him. He says, "Just a few more pages in my book." I wait a few minutes and he doesn't move and I beg again. He finally says, "Bring me 20 shells with purple" on them, and then I'll go in." Which I do, and then he finally gets in the water. We've been doing this for years.
He told me today that he likes to take the shells with him when he goes on business trips - of which there are far too many (business trips, not shells) - to remind him of the times when life is perfect.
That made me feel sad for all that you are going through. We live in such an easy time compared to yours. You are holed up in an attic, with annoying people all around you, afraid that if you made a noise or go outside you'll be dragged off to some concentration camp or get hit by a bomb or some other awful thing.
So I hereby resolve not to be such a whiner. And if I could see you now, I'd give you one of my Dad's purple shells to remind you that the hard times don't last forever.
Your friend, Sarah
August 20, 2001
Today's Anne Frank Quote: Despite all my theories and efforts, I miss - every day and every hour of the day - having a mother who understands me. That's why with everything I do and write, I imagine the kind of Mom I'd like to be to my children later on. The kind of Mom who doesn't take everything people say too seriously, but who takes me seriously.
Dear Anne:
Well, so much for my earlier resolution. I think I shouldn't reread any of the things I write because they just seem so idiotic I can't believe it.
Are you sure you don't know my mother? You write like you do, like we could be some sort of strange twin sisters separated at birth (and by 60 years!).
We're back from the beach, so we're back again to my life as a misfit.
Today I had my first day of band camp. Some of the kids call it "band concentration camp," but given your situation and the fact that we're such close friends, I try to refrain from that label.
Now, as I have previously said, I was an incredibly gifted eighth chair clarinet in my middle school band. I may slide even further down the band social pecking order (is that possible?) now that I am in high school. Because now I need to combine playing and marching, and coordinated I am not.
So here's what happened today. We were learning some basic steps. The older kids who were teaching us were so mean - they just kept making us do things over and over and over until we got it right. And unfortunately, I was one of the reasons why we had to keep doing things· over and·over again. After doing one move two times, this mealy-mouthed, ferret-faced kid named Jason Clark, who I've known since kindergarten, yells out, ''Why do we have to keep doing this over and over again when Sarah is the only one who keeps screwing up?"
I was so embarrassed; all I could think of to do was cry. And I just left and went home.
Went she got home from work, Mom asked what was wrong. When I told her and said that I couldn't ever go back again, she said, "That reminds me of a time when Katy, blah, blah, blah..." I could tell right away that this was going to be one of those stories that end with some uplifting moral about trying until you succeed. And featuring my perfect sister who never failed at anything to boot.
Before I knew it, I said, "Mom, that's a crock; you aren't even listening to me." To which she said, "Don't you take that tone with me." To which I said, "I hate you and this whole stupid perfect family."
Which led in rather short order to my banishment to my room, where I now sit. And I've been grounded for a week to boot as a result of some choice words I used when I was initially banished. So let me tell you once again when you say you'd like "the kind of Mom who doesn't take everything people say too seriously," I know what you mean.
Mom must realize that I don't hate her. It's just that I get so mad sometimes that things pop out of my mouth before I even have a chance to think. I wish she would just ignore stuff like that - she must know that I don't really mean it. But no, everything I say is cause for a big deal. Big trouble. Big yelling. And now I sit here, grounded for a week.
Maybe when my Dad gets home he can make my Mom understand some of this. I hope. I hope.
Your fellow prisoner, Sarah
August 23, 2001
Today's Anne Frank Quote: What affected me even more was the realization that I was never going to be able to confide in Father.
Dear Anne:
Sometimes I think we must live in some sort of parallel universe. That gets me a little scared because I've read the back part of the book and I know what happens to you. But I can't bear to think of that, or else I wouldn't be able to continue writing these letters. I wish I could bring you into our life here in Herndon, where nothing much bad ever happens and where you would be safe. And where the most awful things that seem to happen are fights with your parents.
I'm still mad at Mom for grounding me. But I think I am even madder at Dad. Because when he came home, I told him everything that happened, and then he said, "What your Mom says goes."
Can you believe this? In this family, Dad has always been the one who really listens to me. And now he has gone over to the "Dark Side."
I've been reading a lot of the diary the past few days. This is because: a) with this grounding thing I have nothing better to do (no offense!); and b) it is now just 12 days before the beginning of school. I have to
finish reading the book and writing the journal one week after the first day of school.
I wonder how I'll be able to get though high school if I don't have Dad on my side. It wasn't always so bad with Mom. Up until a couple of years ago, we used to have so much fun. We would go shopping. We would talk. We would do lots of things together.
But something changed in the past few years. It seems like we can't agree on anything! We fight all the time!
I feel like if I do anything, my Mom will always find something wrong with it. All the same questions, over and over and over. Blah. Blah. Blah.
Your friend, Sarah
September 3, 2001
Today's Anne Frank Quote: My life has gotten better, much better. God has not forsaken me, and He never will.
Dear Anne:
I feel like I am constantly on a roller coaster.
As I get near the end of this journal and look back at some of the stuff I have written, I can't remember how sometimes I am way up, and then the very next thing I write sounds so depressing I can hardly stand it.lThat seems to be the same for you. However, I guess I can see why you might have a few more reasons to be a little more moody than me.
Let 's compare...
Living conditions
Anne - Inside for 2 years
Sarah - able to go outside any time I want
Clothes
Anne – handmade
Sarah - Old Navy and Abercrombie
Friends
Anne - haven't seen in 2 years; some have been arrested
Sarah - can be friends with anyone I want
So I find myself wondering, "Why can't things be a little smoother?" Why can't I just not go crazy all the time?"
You are sitting in an attic. There are people all around you who want to kill you. And yet you write that God will never leave you.
How can you be so sure? How can you be so sure that He hasn't already left you? After all, living in an attic hiding from Germans who want to send you to a concentration camp wouldn't automatically lead me to the conclusion that God was there for me. It would more likely lead me to the conclusion that He was out to get me.
We go to church all the time, and I always say that I believe in God, but how do you know? How can you be so positive in spite of everything that has happened - everything that will happen - to you?
Anyone looking at our lives from outside would conclude that my life is unbelievably better than yours. And yet I can't quite always trust God is there. Were there ever times when you weren't so sure? Did you still feel the same when the Germans came pounding at the door?
I better go. After all, high school starts tomorrow.
Your friend,
Sarah
September 5, 2001
Today's Anne Frank Quote: The things a school girl has to do in the course of a single day!
Dear Anne:
I wanted to give you a snapshot of my high school schedule:
Band: The band director is named Mr. Miller. He has a small goatee and likes to yell. He says that, "Concert band is the reward. Marching band is where you pay your dues." We are all quite inspired by this attitude. Hah!
English: My English teacher is Mr. Jenkins. He is kind of big and looks like a bear. He likes to speak using very long words and sentences. Instead of saying, "It's a full moon tonight," he would say something like, ''The lunar landscape has reached a point of full luminance this evening."
Geometry: My geometry teacher is Ms. Weaver. Nobody can quite figure her out. Some days she has short hair, and then the next day she'll show up with what looks like a ponytail attached to her hair to make it look long. I don't know who she is trying to fool with this arrangement. Does she think that we all think she is like one of those dolls they used to have with a knob in her back and she turns it some days to pull her hair in and turns it the other some other days to make it long? I don't get it. She does have one amazing talent though, that I have personally witnessed even though it is only the second day of school. She can stand at the blackboard and draw a perfect circle freehand. Try it sometime. It is not easy. I don't know what the use of this talent is outside of being a geometry teacher, so maybe she is in the perfect job. I wonder if they have special training in college to teach people who want to be geometry teachers to draw perfect circles.
Social Studies: In social studies I have a lady named Mrs. Gemmer. She apparently originated on a different planet than this one. I wonder when the mother ship will return to pick her up. She is very tall - maybe six feet - and has bright red hair and glasses. When she talks, she will get to a certain point, and then I guess her mouth runs out of things to say before her brain realizes it, and then she just ends up by saying... "etcetera, etcetera, etcetera." Except she doesn't just say it quickly. She drags it out so that each one takes about 3 seconds. "Etceteraaaaaaaaaaaa." She yelled at me the very first day at school just because I didn't know what year the Civil War ended. She went around the classroom asking us all sorts of questions that she said were from the standardized tests that we have to take at the end of the year. She was astonished that we didn't know the answers. Helllooooooo. Isn't that why we are in school and taking this class from an alien to begin with? I have to remember to find out when the Civil War ended before school tomorrow.
My Dad is always reading books about the Civil War so I’ll ask him. I seem to recall it ended sometime in the 1800s. Hah! I know it ended in 1865. But I like to torment my Dad by making him think that I have no idea. It gives him the chance to make his speech about how kids today know nothing about history and what are they teaching kids in schools today and things like that. It makes him happy.
Biology: Mr. Schmidling is my biology teacher. My older sisters had him as well. He has been teaching about a hundred years. From what they tell me, he has been telling the same jokes the entire time. He wears a strong tie like people from Texas wear sometimes.
That's all for now. At least I appear to have survived my first two days! Next week we need to finish our journals.
Your friend,
Sarah
September 7, 2001
Today's Anne Frank Quote: I've struggled long and hard to become as independent as I am now. You can laugh and refuse to believe me, but I don't care. I know I'm an independent person, and I don't feel I need to account to you for my actions.
Dear Anne:
Sometimes I think my Dad just wants to protect me from EVERYTHING.
He makes me feel like I'm 7 years old.
You write a lot about how you got to be really close with this guy named Peter in the attic. I guess it is good that things worked out with him, because it isn't like there were a lot of other people up there. It's good for you to have someone to like you and someone to talk to, especially since you are stuck there and can't go out. I wish I had someone like that.
You also write that your father wasn't too wild about all of the time you were spending with Peter. I guess in some ways fathers will always be fathers.
My Dad was so unfair to me tonight. I wanted to go to a football game, except it was at Westfield. Some guys who are juniors in the band invited me and a couple of friends to go. It was all set. They were even going to drive. I don't have that many chances to go to football games as a normal person instead of a band person. Not to mention that as I've previously noted in this journal, my "normal" leaves a little something to be desired, so I don't get a whole lot of invitations - and from juniors! It was going to be a great way to wind up the first official week of school.
When I asked my Dad, he said, "No, I don't think that's a very good idea. Juniors aren't allowed to drive with a bunch of kids in the car." I said, "But if it's OK with his parents, I don't see why it wouldn't be OK with you." He said he still didn't think it was a good idea. Before I knew it, I blurted out, "That sucks!" Wrong call.
Which is how I wound up doing this journal on a Friday night instead of going out with my friends.
Why does he have to be so suspicious abo
ut everything? If he only knew what some of the other kids do! Well, maybe it's better he doesn't know what the others kids do or I might never be allowed even out of the house.
Living a life of isolation in my room, I remain your friend, Sarah
September 10, 2001
Dear Anne:
You'll notice I don't have a quote at the beginning of this entry. That's because I am going to do something a little different today since it is the last entry in this journal. I need to hand this thing in on Wednesday. Tomorrow I have band practice all afternoon and a big report to work on in history, so I don't know if I'm going to have much of a chance to work on the journal.
I'm going to take the same approach with my Dad that you did with yours. That seems like a good way to wrap up this journal.
After he kept criticizing you for going off with Peter all the time, you decided to write him a letter and tell him exactly how you felt. It wasn't the nicest of letters, but you said that once he got the letter, it kind of cleared the air between you and you were able to talk like you used to.
Given the experience of this weekend - I am still so mad about missing the Westfield game I can hardly stand it - I think it is time to set the record straight. I am going to write him a letter, and then go downstairs and leave it on the kitchen table after everyone goes to bed. He is getting up early to catch a flight to Los Angeles. It will do him good to maybe think about things from my perspective. Maybe letter will work like yours did on your father and when my Dad gets back we can have a real talk like we used to.
Here's what I am going to say in my letter:
Dear Dad:
I think it is time that you realized that things are not the same between us as they once were.
You need to stop trying to control everything that I do. You may not believe it or like it, but I am grown up. I am an independent person and I don't need you or Mom like I once did.
All I ever get from you now is, "Don't do this. Don't do that. Be home early. " Well, that is fine to say, but you need to understand that I will do the things I need to do.
I have struggled hard despite being weird to be independent. I know that I will never be successful in the ways that Katy and Chrissy are successful. But I will do my best with what I have.
So from now on, you need to look at me differently. I am no longer the little girl who needs you to do everything for me. When I was little you used to tuck me in every night and say prayers. We haven't done that for years because I outgrew it. I don't need you like I once did.
There are a lot of other things that I have outgrown in the past couple of years, and now that I am in high school, you can't control every single thing I do anymore.
Your daughter, Sarah
So you see, my friend, that I have learned something from our pen pal relationship. I know my letter sounds a little tough, but I tried to follow your example. You said everyone was upset after you gave your letter, but eventually it helped.
Once I show this journal to Mr. Jenkins on Wednesday - he better not read this, he promised he wouldn't - I don't know what I'll do with it. Maybe bum it like I planned. But maybe I'll keep it and write some things in it from time to time. I would wish you good luck, but I know it wouldn't make any difference. I wish that you had been born 60 years later in Herndon, Virginia the most boring and safe place in the world instead of living in Europe during World War II. Maybe we could have been real friends instead of just pen pals.
Wish me luck in getting a good reaction from my Dad to the letter.
Your friend,
Sarah
The Journal