Peggy Wagner Kimble

Do you know what you did every day in 1958?  I do. My diary recounts the busy life of eight and nine year old me: bike riding, ice skating, snow forts, the beach, tennis, jumping rope, hula hoops, my doll house, school, piano lessons, dance classes, horseback riding, Brownies, birthday parties, sleepovers, books, movies, day camp, and family trips. Fun with friends, my sister, and my parents. Visits with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.

I practiced division problems and writing in script. I drew pictures, wrote stories, and invented goofy jokes. I noted my migraine headaches, doctor’s appointments, and Iowa Tests. I mentioned that stamps cost 3 cents for postcards and 4 cents for letters. Between the pages I saved a valentine from a boy I liked.

This random year contained momentous events. My baby sister Judy had died two years earlier and I was thrilled when my brother Doug was born in April. In May, our dachshund Fritz bit a boy who had thrown stones at him; when we had to give away our beloved dog, my sister Betsy and I “were so sad that we could not stop crying.”  And in October I proudly wrote, “I rode on a train to Chicago with no adult.”

Fun, elation, heartbreak, independence: my 1958 diary has them all. Of the many diaries and journals I’ve written, this is the only one I saved.

I barely recognize her handwriting but I know that girl. She’s been here all along.