October 1, 1965
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Dear Anthony,
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Well, I'm a sophomore now. Oh, of course you are, too. So maybe you know what it's like to start high school with such high hopes and then be disappointed. I know, part of it is that I lost Daddy in my freshman year, but that's not all of it. I hope you don't think it's shallow, but I wish I were more successful socially. (I'm still successful academically, even though Daddy is no longer around to encourage me. Mother is proud of me I think, but there are times I think she'd be prouder if I were a gorgeous, popular cheerleader with average grades.)
Anyway, sometimes I go into the cafeteria and I look longingly at the In Crowd. They're so poised and confident, even the ones who are my age, even the freshmen! Sometimes I feel like I'd trade my good grades just to sit at their table. Not that they're bad students. They get mostly B's.
I'm too shy to even say hi to them. And I feel self-conscious because I'm so fat. And of course then I put more food on my tray. It's a circular problem, I know. And related to that, I never date, so I would feel left out in that way, although I feel like if I got into the Crowd, then I could meet and go out with the cute, popular boys.
I bet you'd be popular at my school, unless you're going through an awkward stage, too. I wonder what they would think if they'd knew I'd kissed a cute boy. (Well, two if you count that creep Mickey.) But that feels more and more like another life.
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Take Care,
Angela
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February 14, 1966
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Dear Anthony,
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Another lonely Valentine's Day. (For me I mean, maybe not for you.) And I've got a terrible crush! I don't have any close friends, so I can't tell anyone about it. And Mother wouldn't believe it. You see, it's not an athlete or a member of the Student Council or anyone else who's popular. Not that he's unpopular. But he's too cool to care about things like that.
His name is Jake Maguire. He's a musician, but he's not a bit like Paul McCartney. He's more of a bad boy, like the Rolling Stones. He drives a motorcycle. His nickname is Jake the Snake. Daddy would be horrified if he were alive, but of course Jake would never go out with someone like me, a fat girl, a nice girl.
Still, maybe it's the same reason I kissed you two and a half years ago, that there's a side of me that doesn't want the man in the Brooks Brothers suit but the guy in the leather jacket. I was drawn to you because you were forbidden and illicit.
Jake takes girls to Inspiration Point, bad girls of course. Sometimes I wish I were a bad girl, or could be bad one night. Not that I would go all the way! I'm saving myself for marriage, even if it sometimes seems like I'll never get married. Maybe I'll just be a career girl. Anyway, I would like to make out at Inspiration Point, but just like necking.
My mother dates now that she's gotten over Daddy's death. I don't like it. I think of how much I dislike my step-grandfather, Mr. Reynolds. I would hate to have Mother choose a bad second husband like Nanna did. (I mean, Mr. Reynolds doesn't drink or beat Nanna or anything. I just don't like him as a person. I think she just married him for his money.)
Anyway, Mother doesn't act like she's looking to get married again, so that should be a relief, except that Mother, um, well, the nice way to put it is she plays the field, like Diane Fortescue. Mother doesn't date any man more than two or three times but I think she, well, she's not saving herself for a second marriage.
As for Jake, well, it's not just the necking I'd like (even though I haven't kissed anyone in ages), but also the romance and excitement of it. I would love to date a musician, who'd dedicate a romantic song to me. And I picture Inspiration Point as in a woodland setting, like Kissing Rock I suppose, only with someplace to sit. I think of the moonlight and the crickets. Could it be as magical with Jake as it was with you so long ago? I know, I'll never know. I'm just as likely to kiss you again as to kiss Jake, and that's only slightly more likely than kissing Paul McCartney. Or Mick Jagger.
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Daydreaming again,
Angela
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May 20, 1966
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I had my Sweet Sixteen party tonight. My mother teased me about being Sweet Sixteen and Never Been Kissed of course. Yes, if she only knew, although mostly my teenage years have been pretty mild so far.
I think I'll give up on the idea of dating, at least until college. Hopefully I'll either finally turn from a caterpillar into a butterfly, or I'll meet men who aren't just interested in a girl's appearance.
I've been looking at the brochure for Montague Academy. It's a girls' school and has very high academic standards. There will be fewer temptations, like Jake, and I can just focus on my studies. I think if I stay here, I'll end up acting out, rebelling. And then what will that do to my future?
I don't think Mother would mind if I went away to school. She's got her social life and we're not that close. I doubt she'd even miss me. She says it's a shame that this will be my last summer at camp, since it only goes up to age 16.
Yes, it's my last chance to meet you at Kissing Rock. I know, it's a silly dream that I should've long since outgrown. But as long as there's a chance, then I'll take it. And if you're not there, well, I'll have fun as usual. And maybe lose a little weight with swimming and hiking and all.
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Sweet Sixteen Kisses,
Angela
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July 4, 1966
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I watched the fireworks over the lake tonight, thinking of how much I wish I was watching them with you, and knowing that that will now positively, never ever happen. It feels like I'm growing up, three years after my first grown-up kiss. In some ways, I feel very old for my age, paying bills and being the practical one for my mother. But in other ways, I'm still innocent and inexperienced. It's like I'm still waiting for my life to begin. Maybe that will happen at Montague, or maybe not till college. But I'm doing my best to enjoy this last summer of swimming, archery, and crickets in the moonlight.
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Hope your summer is good,
Angela
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August 1, 1966
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Dear Ingrid,
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Yeah, I didn't go to camp again. But I have become a Boy Scout. Don't laugh. Pop thought it would keep me out of trouble, and give me a chance to do some of the stuff I did at camp, like woodwork.
You're probably not even at camp this year, right? I mean, you're sixteen, that's practically an adult. As for me, well, at least I'll be in high school finally, Pitkin High. Yeah, it'll be a short walk, since I live on Pitkin Avenue. It'll be an adjustment being in public school instead of Catholic school, but I'm looking forward to it. And I'll see all my buddies, so that's good.
But, yeah, I'm still too young for you. You'll be a junior and I'll be a lowly freshman. You're probably already dating college guys, rich ones with nice cars. I can't compete with that. Still, I think about you, three years after we kissed. (And yeah, I've kissed a few other girls in the past year.)
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Hope life is good,
Anthony (but I think I'll start going by "Tony" once school starts)