First mate's log:
February 24, 1971
Jan took the ferry to Blenford by herself for the first time today. She confided in me that she was going to buy a wig, something not actually sold on our island. (We used to have to wait for wigs to wash up on shore, other than the ones that Mrs. Howell packed I mean.) She's tired of being overlooked as the middle of three blonde sisters. So she came back with a very curly black wig. I tried to be polite about it, but the Skipper and I just looked at each other and shook our heads after she disembarked.
Carol Brady's diary:
February 27, 1971
Even though Jan and Peter aren't teenagers yet, they're already suffering some of the pangs of early adolescence. Last night they went to Lucy Winters's birthday party. Peter wanted to avoid Margie Whipple, a girl who has a crush on him, so he pretended to be sick to stay home. Mike and I made a deal that Peter couldn't play ball today unless he escorted Jan to the party, as promised. He went and apparently even introduced "the new Jan Brady."
Poor Jan is going through another phase, this time because she feels overshadowed as a middle sister. She thought a black wig would make her stand out, but she didn't choose a very flattering one. Her friends laughed at her, thinking it was another of her practical jokes. Lucy and Margie came over to apologize and compliment Jan's real hair. They encouraged her to come back to the party, and when Peter didn't want to return, Mike reminded him of our deal.
Mike says Peter was shy like he was, which is hard to imagine. I was more like Marcia when I was eleven, but I sympathize with poor Jan.
March 1, 1971
Bobby told me he tried out for his school's glee club and didn't get in, even though Peter, Jan, and Cindy did. He was very disappointed, but his dad suggested he try playing a musical instrument instead. So he's going to talk to Mrs. Whitfield, the fifth-grade teacher who's running the glee club. I told him about the time Mrs. Howell started an orchestra on the island and my drumming got the local natives riled up, but he was too little then to remember that.
March 3, 1971
Our elementary-school children all tried out for the Glee Club, but poor Bobby didn't make it in. So Mike suggested he learn to play an instrument. Unfortunately, that means that Bobby is now driving our household mad with his manic, all-hours drumming! It's hard for the other kids to do their homework, and Peter is now talking about quitting the Glee Club.
Mike and I tried putting Bobby and his drums out in the carport, but as with Myron the Mouse, this was only a short-term solution. Mr. Dittmeyer and the others complained about the noise, and I wouldn't be surprised if it upset the natives on other islands, like Gilligan's drumming in Mrs. Howell's orchestra years ago. Mike and I want Bobby to find a talent, but at what cost?
March 5, 1971
Poor Peter. Not only did he have to take Jan to a party their friend was throwing when Jan was wearing her awful wig, but there was a plain girl he was trying to avoid, and she's still chasing after him, including at the glee club. He's thinking of quitting the club anyway, even though he likes to sing, because the guys on the peewee football team are teasing him about being "a canary."
"I want to play football and sing, but not if I'm gonna get called a sissy."
I didn't know what to say, because I'm not very good at sports or singing. So I ended up saying, "Well, at least Margie Whipple isn't a fat native girl who you have to marry or get killed." I don't think that helped though.
March 8, 1971
It turns out that the reason why Peter wanted to quit the Glee Club was actually that some of the boys on the football team thought he was a sissy for singing, until the coach's friend Deacon Jones (of the L.A. Rams), who's visiting our island for a week, told him that he and many other professional athletes sing.
As for Bobby, we had him switch instruments, but morning reveille on a bugle was no improvement, and he wreaked destruction with a baton. I hope he'll find a quieter, safer hobby soon.
March 12, 1971
Mr. Howell just bought a new yacht and he wants to take me, the Skipper, the Bradys, Alice, and Mary Ann on a cruise a week from tomorrow. Mary Ann asked if she could bring Gopher, but he said it'll be "castaways only." I can't say I mind that.
March 16, 1971
Mr. Howell invited a group of us to go on a trip on his brand-new yacht this coming Saturday, but Cindy is going to have to have her tonsils removed that day, unless she feels better in the meantime. Those sniffles she had the night that Mike and I went out to dinner and Greg and Marcia babysat have come back off and on since then, and she seems to get more sore throats than the other children.
Marcia has been taking Cindy's temperature frequently, alternating with Jan feeding her soup, in hopes that she'll be better by Saturday, but I doubt that it'll make any difference. Dr. Porter will come by again tomorrow for an update.
March 20, 1971
The yacht trip had to be postponed a week, because Mrs. Brady and Cindy both have to have their tonsils out today. It's too bad, but it's not like I don't get to go on a boat all the time anyway. I feel bad for the Brady kids though.
March 24, 1971
Oh dear, I've offended Mr. Howell! My friend Ellie has been calling here often, and Mike was worried I'd get on the phone with her while I'm recovering from my tonsillectomy. Yes, I had to have one, too. When Cindy was reluctant to say "ah," I let Dr. Porter demonstrate with me. The doctor said I should also have my tonsils out. So Cindy and I had to go over to the hospital on Blenford on Saturday.
No, that's not why Mr. Howell is offended. He already knew we couldn't make it because of Cindy, but he'd agreed to reschedule for this coming Saturday. It's sort of Mike's fault, although I guess mostly mine. Mike called here from a friend's house and he pretended to be Ellie, to trick me into talking and thus teach me a lesson. So then when Mr. Howell called to see how Cindy and I were doing and to make sure we could still make the voyage, I thought it was Mike doing an impersonation of Mr. Howell. (After almost seven years, Mike certainly knows the millionaire well enough, and Mr. Howell is pretty easy to imitate.)
"I'm not well enough to go on that broken-down barnacle barge of yours."
Even when Mr. Howell spluttered in indignation, I still thought it was Mike, until Mike walked in a minute later.
Mike tried calling Mr. Howell back to explain, but Mr. Howell hung up on him. And when Mike tried to go over to the mansion, the guard at the gate turned him away. If I only I could talk to Mrs. Howell, I'm sure she'd intervene, but I have no way to reach her. Things were so much simpler when we all lived in huts a stone's throw apart.
March 28, 1971
We almost didn't have the yacht trip yesterday either. Mr. Howell wanted to cancel completely because Mrs. Brady accidentally insulted his boat. Alice asked me to explain to Mr. Howell.
"Gee, I don't know, Alice. I'm not very good at explaining stuff, and what if he gets mad at me, too?"
"You have a way of helping people see the best in each other, Gilligan."
I don't know about that but I did want to go on the yacht, so I went over to the mansion and asked to speak to Mr. Howell. I told him, "You know, Mr. Howell, sometimes people put their feet in their mouths and they could just kick themselves." He didn't understand at first, but when I explained, he forgave Mrs. Brady and we had the trip anyway. The yacht doesn't go very fast but it's fancier than even Mrs. Erika Tiffany Smith's.
March 31, 1971
Gilligan was a surprise peacemaker, explaining me and Mike to Mr. Howell somehow. The whole family, and the other castaways, went on the boat this past Saturday and had a lovely time. Well, Alice got a little seasick, as she sometimes does, but nothing serious.
I never did much fishing when we were all marooned, since it was something the sailors mostly took care of, but I've been practicing this month, including on the yacht. I used to fish with my father and my brother, but I seem to have lost my touch. I didn't catch anything on board, and casting in the backyard I caught the Dittmeyer's bag of charcoal, and later Mr. Dittmeyer! I'll try to practice more on our next camping trip, where it's safe.