Completely in the Dark

“Hallelujah? Easter Sunday,” states the diary on March 26, 1978.

Then, bits of April, specifically: 2008, 2012 and … 2013.

I know. That last date hasn’t happened yet. How can I write about the future? I don’t know. But I’m willing to try.

You just gotta keep searching for those Easter eggs.

First, March 2008: No record of Easter Sunday. Mom and Dad are still in Florida. A week later, a Saturday, I’m waiting in for a friend who’s assisting with the possible sale of my condo. Hoping “to be closed and out of here early May,” I write, “so this hellhole is history and I can move on with my life.”

Sunday, March 26, 1978

“Drove to church alone this morning.” Just returned from Germany, I sat in the balcony with Mike Gottschalk and Doug Schwanke. I wanted to ask Kim to the senior prom—even as she sat one row down from us with her boyfriend Jon. “No, I don’t think so—she may go, My God, what’s so damn wrong? Later, after that too long service I asked her if she was going to be home—she said she wasn’t—but said she’d call me when she got home.”

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Bloomington, Illinois. On the road to inter the folks’ remains in a graveyard outside Greensburg, Indiana. “Thought about anonymous little towns and being miles away from people who I care about.” Billy Joel’s “You’re My Home.” 1827 East 64th Street, Broad Ripple, Indianapolis, where the grass is brilliant green.

Easter Sunday, March 31, 2013

I don’t know. Church maybe?

Past, present, future—an Easter egg hunt. Run and find the dyed eggs, hidden in tufts of grass. Concealed in one egg, dated late March 1978, bracelet charms I bought in Germany as a gift for Kim. The weather is sunny and warm, and Dad is itching to put the boat dock in so he can go fishing. But it’s not yet time.

Saturday, April 8, 1978

Then it happened—boom. A special party was underway that night with people not normally in my high school social circle. Sally Olsen, a short-haired brunette with lovely dark eyes and an Honor Society sophomore, “commanded Lori Belland’s surprise get-together” with over a dozen kids on a full-frontal assault on Disco-Trek, the new St. Louis Park dance place.

For me disco started in Germany, at The Sporting Club in Garmisch and places in Munich. But being home, it was a new way to meet girls. Even as prog-rock guys, we were going to bend with the will of the times and be there come hell or high water. That Saturday night, the diary reports “I danced with Sharon, Denise, Tami, Sue and especially Sally—we slow danced—after it was over I gave her a kiss—real close—I don’t know how she feels but she really makes me happy.”

Übersetzen sie?

Then, blank pages. Three or four in early April 1978. Like nothing mattered. Invisible ink days that will never be recalled nor relished again.

Maybe I’m not supposed to be here, in this place, at this time, as this person. I will never know.

April 19, 2008

“I’m supposed to be getting together with [AJ] for coffee next Tuesday after work, and I’m really looking forward to seeing her again.” Four days earlier I ran into an old girlfriend on Grand Avenue.

It’s a full month before my mother died, and there’s a strange feeling of people entering and leaving at the same time: “There’s no way I could be a part of that again,” I write in the journal. “I’m different, at least, I feel like I’ve changed. I’m too wary of that…it would be a constant stream of judging and miscalculation and second-guessing. I don’t have the energy for that.”

April 19, 2013

I don’t know.

Tuesday, April 11, 1978

Back in school, near the English Resource Center, Sally calls me over—“she seemed excited to see me—or at least I guess so.” Kim was also in school, wearing a “peasant dress, looking really beautiful.” Clearly, I’m confused. “You see, I have two choices for Prom (which I have to decide about this week) and it’s either Sally or Kim, the better bet on Sally.” Lisa called me after school and I “mentioned the fact that Kim and I are a dead, nonexistent, totally gone, thing.”

Easter eggs hidden beneath soft, green, budding things.

I don’t know.

I still don’t have a clue.

~ by completelyinthedark on January 25, 2013.

Posted in 1978, Germany, Indiana, Minnesota
Tags: Billy Joel, Broad Ripple, Doug Schwanke, Easter, Easter eggs, Florida, Garmisch, Greensburg, Kim, Mike Gottschalk, Sally Olsen, senior prom, spring, The Sporting Club