First mate's log:

April 15, 1969

This is Tax Day. I've never had to pay taxes before, because five years ago my parents were still claiming me as a dependent, even though I had been in the Navy and was starting to work for the Skipper on The Minnow. The thing is, I still don't exactly get a salary, just room and board and sort of an allowance. Mr. Howell let me use his accountant for a discount rate and I'll probably get a refund.

Earlier this month, I helped Mr. Brady and the boys build a clubhouse in their backyard. I don't do as much building as I did in the old days, before there was a big construction crew. It used to be, I, or maybe the Skipper and I, and sometimes all the men except probably not Mr. Howell, would put up or repair a hut or other little building (like the shower stall) real quick.

It was nice to work on something small again that we could do in a couple hours, and Bobby was happy that he got to help by handing us nails and stuff. He's seven now and more than ever he wants to be included and important. (He told me he almost ran away last month until his stepmom told him that she loves him. I understood, since I've run away a bunch, even as an adult, although never for too far or too long, except when I joined the Navy.)


Carol Brady's diary:

April 16, 1969

Over the last several months, the family has had to adjust to each other in many ways, including learning to share our space. Obviously, this house is far roomier than either hut we lived in for four years, but we did live in the suburbs before and briefly after the time of our marooning. So our expectations are different. And we have more possessions than we did when we lived on the island before. Learning to share isn't always easy, as I discovered when Mike and I mildly argued over closet space this weekend.

It's even harder for the children, and I think it's not just that they're from two different families but that they're two different sexes. While I have some sympathy with Women's Lib, in that I think men and women should be treated equally, I do think there are differences between male and female. Boys and girls are different in some ways, not just physically. So that leads to some arguments among the children.

And yet, the girls want what the boys have and don't understand why they shouldn't have it. I've told the girls to be patient and to compromise, because I want us all to get along of course, and yet I find myself taking their side in the latest spat.

When Mike promised to build a playhouse, or clubhouse as the boys call it, I thought that it would be for all six children. He's been as busy as ever, but a couple weeks ago he got Gilligan to help him and the boys build the little house, which turns out to be just big enough for three children, Mike's three sons. The structure is a bit ramshackle and I wouldn't want to go into it, but the girls resent being forbidden to enter, and not just by the "KEEP OUT" sign.

I realize that the boys are proud of their work in building the clubhouse and the girls didn't help with it, but they were never asked. If they had been, and Alice and I could've pitched in, too, then maybe the clubhouse would be big enough for all six of the children. A clubhouse is something that girls like as much as boys and I don't see why Mike couldn't have included them in his plans from the beginning.

Mike thinks boys, just like men, need space of their own. I can see that to a point, like with the YMCA, but then there's the YWCA. It's not as if Mike also offered to build a separate clubhouse with and for the girls.

At first, Alice was neutral, as she always tries to be during disagreements, which is understandable if frustrating. But today she was listening to one of her soap operas on the radio and she heard "Sandra" tell "Lance" she wants equality in the home. It made Alice realize something. You can't just beg for equality; you have to fight for it and sometimes seize it. And that's what we'll do, nonviolently of course.

Tomorrow, I'll go talk to Mrs. Howell and see if she can arrange for some of the construction crew to drop off lumber and other supplies. Mr. Garst won't have enough on hand, and Alice and I would have to wait until Tuesday to go to the Blenford Hardware Store. I'd approach the crew myself, but I doubt they'd listen to me. I'd just be seen as a housewife, while Mrs. Howell is a rich woman. I think she'll be supportive, since she was one of the prime movers almost five years ago, when the female half of the population went off and built our own hut as a protest against the men not listening to our pleas to no longer share a group hut.

She and I aren't as close as we were in those days, or even as a year ago. It makes a difference that she's now living in a mansion with her husband, nephew, and servants and I'm married and living in "the suburbs," i.e. the residential side of Main Street. I still see her but no longer several times a day, just a couple times a week. We never had much in common besides our marital status, and it wasn't as if I was living with Tim on the island even before I lost him. I connect more with the other middle-class wives and mothers now. But I'm still fond of that eccentric yet sensible lady.


April 18, 1969

I saw a bunch of construction guys delivering lumber and stuff to the Bradys' house yesterday. I thought maybe Mr. Brady was going to add to the boys' clubhouse, but it turned out Mrs. Brady and the girls were going to build a clubhouse, too. I offered to help but she said it had to be an all-female project, since it's a girls' clubhouse. I didn't really understand, but Mary Ann explained it to me when I went over to the diner for a snack before the ferry. She said that the Brady females would probably do a deliberately bad job on the building, so that Mr. Brady would step in, out of chivalry and architectural pride, and he'd have the boys and himself build the clubhouse for the girls.

And I guess that's what happened, because Mr. and Mrs. Brady skipped their Thursday date night so he could work on the girls' clubhouse. What no one counted on was Bobby pulled the nails out of the boys' clubhouse and it fell apart, so now the boys want to use the girls' clubhouse. Yeah, Bobby really is like me, poor kid.


April 19, 1969

This weekend the whole family is building a clubhouse big enough for all six kids, which is what we should've done in the first place. When I saw Mrs. Howell, it was lovely to sit and chat over tea, but she gave me some dubious advice along with her letter to Larry Dittmeyer requesting building supplies for "a minuscule building project." She said the girls and I should deliberately foul up our work in order to get Mike's sympathy. We actually did try our best, but then a wall collapsed and almost hit Cindy! So Mike's protective instincts took over and he built the clubhouse with the boys, while we were sent to make lemonade and other refreshments for "the men."

However, one of those men is a seven-year-old boy who doesn't know much about construction, so when he was sent to get more nails, he took them from the boys' clubhouse. It collapsed just after the girls' clubhouse was completed. I convinced Mike that this should be a family project, for a family clubhouse. Separate but equal doesn't really work out. And Mike is now joking about what a "second home" will do to our taxes next year.