Between Friends. Debbie Macomber

Чтение книги онлайн.

      August 29, 1963

      The most incredible thing happened yesterday. Hundreds of thousands of people gathered around the Washington Monument in our country’s capital in a Civil Rights demonstration. It was on television and on the radio. Mom and I talked about what it meant to be a Negro in America. Several colored families live on the other side of the railroad tracks. Dad works with colored men at the mill. He calls them names Mom won’t let me repeat. Mom said they’re like everyone else. They bleed and sweat and breathe the same as us, despite what Dad says. I can hardly believe that the South treats people so differently just because their skin is a different color, and I told Mom that. I read that Negroes have a hard time finding a job or getting an education. That isn’t fair. Mom was born and raised in Mississippi, and she said the Civil War was about more than slavery. She explained some of the South’s history since the War Between the States (that’s what she calls it), and she helped me understand how much courage it took for this rally in Washington to happen. Then she recited a quote from an English writer named Samuel Johnson. I’m writing it down because I don’t ever want to forget it. COURAGE IS THE GREATEST OF ALL VIRTUES, BECAUSE IF YOU HAVEN’T COURAGE, YOU MAY NOT HAVE AN OPPORTUNITY TO USE ANY OF THE OTHERS. I don’t think I’ve ever realized how smart my mother is about life. (And I didn’t know who Samuel Johnson was until she talked about him.)

      There’s going to be a colored man speaking at the Pine Ridge Emmanuel Church on September 6th and I told Mom I’d like to hear what he has to say. She didn’t think that was a good idea because it wouldn’t be right for a Catholic girl to be seen inside a Protestant Church. Although Mom said I couldn’t go, I had the feeling she’d like to attend the meeting herself. If I had my driver’s license and a car, I’d do it. Jillian’s taking Driver’s Education this summer. She thinks her parents might buy her a car. As it is now, her mother drives her to school every morning and her father picks her up every afternoon.

      I hate being fourteen. I want to be sixteen and to be able to drive and hear the people I want to hear and meet the people I want to meet.

      Jillian’s Diary

      November 22, 1963

      President Kennedy was killed today. Lesley and I were in Religion Class when the news came over the loudspeaker that the President had been shot. Sister Dorothy immediately had us get down on our knees and pray. No one knew then how serious it was.

      It wasn’t long before we were released from school. Lesley and I went right over to church and it was already full of people pleading with God to save our President. By the time I got home, I learned he was dead. I can’t stop crying. Even my dad had tears in his eyes.

      Poor Jackie. She’s the one I’m crying for. I can’t bear this. It’s so terrible. Everyone is watching television. Everyone is weeping. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t believe President Kennedy is dead.

      Farewell from John Kennedy

      by Lesley Adamski

      Sorry I had to leave right away.

      I look down and smile at you each day.

      Little Patrick says to say “Hi”

       And so, my darlings, please don’t cry.

      Caroline, I’d like to say,

      How proud Daddy was of you that day, When you stood like a lady and watched me go by, And doing like Mommy, you tried not to cry.

      John John, now you’re the big man.

      Take care of Mommy the best that you can.

      You were just like a soldier, that salute was so brave.

      Thank you for the flag you put on my grave.

      And Jackie, I had no time for goodbyes,

      I’m sure you could read the “Farewell” in my eyes.

      Watch over our children, and love them for me

      I’ll treasure your love through eternity.

      Please carry on as you did before,

      Until we all meet on heaven’s bright shore.

      Remember I love you, remember I care.

      I’ll always be with you though you don’t see me there.

      (This is in Memory of the late John Fitzgerald Kennedy,

      whom I loved more than words can say.

      I pray that I will meet him in heaven one day.)

      1965

      Holy Name Academy

      January 20, 1965

       Demerit Slip Student: Jillian Lawton Offense: Rolling up the uniform skirt above the knee.

      Holy Name Academy

       230 First Street Pine Ridge, Washington 98005

      January 20, 1965

      Dear Judge and Mrs. Lawton,

      Enclosed is the demerit slip for Jillian, which I have had no choice but to issue. She has had repeated warnings about the length of her uniform skirt. Several of the Junior girls have defied the rules and each will be obliged to remain after school the first Friday of February to polish the gymnasium floor.

      I appreciate your cooperation in this unfortunate situation.

      Sincerely,

       Sister Agnes, Principal

      Jillian’s Diary

      January 23, 1965

      This whole detention thing is juvenile, and all because I rolled my skirt up. First, I detest wearing a uniform. I told Mom how much I hated it but she didn’t care. She says that a lot. “I don’t care” and “We aren’t going to talk about it.” Sometimes I swear she treats me like I’m ten years old. The other day I wanted to stand on my chair at the fancy new dining-room table and scream to get her attention. How else can I get her to recognize that I’m seventeen years old?

      The state of Washington trusts me enough to give me a license to drive a motorized vehicle. Dad even bought me a car to go back and forth to school. It seems that if the government thinks I’m mature enough to drive, I should be smart enough to figure out what to wear to school. Apparently they think that if I had a choice, I’d wear something obnoxious like jeans and a sweatshirt. The truth is, my choices have been completely taken away from me, since I’m forced into a ridiculous school uniform. My closet is full of dresses I never get a chance to wear. I have this fear that I’ll be wearing a blue skirt and red blazer my entire life!

      I love my parents, especially my dad. Both Mom and Dad are swell, but at times they can be completely irrational. They’re no better than my teachers when it comes to this uniform thing. Girls attending school in Communist Russia wear uniforms. (I don’t know that for a fact because no one really knows what’s happening in Russia except spies.) СКАЧАТЬ