July 4, 1964

First mate's log:

I still can't get over it. Mrs. Brady is dead! She died in an awful storm. She'd gone looking for her youngest son, who made it back on his own.

The rest of us survived, in the communal hut that we'd built, torn apart, and rebuilt. The Skipper says I should focus on that, that the rest of us are alive, but I still feel real bad for her family. She seemed like a nice lady.

And now it's the Fourth of July. None of us felt much like celebrating, although I felt bad for the kids, especially the boys. If they hadn't taken the tour on The Minnow, they could be back in Honolulu, watching a neat fireworks display. Obviously, we don't have any fireworks, and if we did, we'd use them as extra signal flares.

Mary Ann did make special red, white, and blue pies tonight. They had raspberries, blueberries, and coconut milk. I ate almost half of one! She's a very good pie-maker. She and Alice do most of the cooking, although the other ladies help sometimes. Well, not Mrs. Howell of course.

Since it looks like we'll be here awhile, having good cooks helps make things easier. It's kind of rough living with sixteen, well, fifteen other people in one big hut. At least the Howells haven't had a spat lately. I think Mrs. Brady dying made them realize that they could've lost each other.

July 11, 1964

Carol Martin's diary:

This week has been less dramatic but still eventful. Someone was breaking into the supply hut! The Skipper, who's otherwise very sensible, thought we were all under a voodoo curse, and Mike Brady and the Professor couldn't convince him otherwise. It turned out to be a mischievous chimp. The food is replaceable, but unfortunately we lost most of our signal flares.

I find myself missing everyday items, especially diapers. Unlike Bobby Brady, Cindy is too young to potty-train (especially for an outhouse), so I've had to improvise cloth diapers from clothing that the other castaways have donated. I feel like my grandmother, Connie Hutchins, who lives in Kentucky. When I visited her as a little girl in the '40s, she was still living like it was the 19th century. But she was energetic and creative, able to hand-make almost anything you can think of. My mother, her daughter, is much more suburban and sophisticated.

Sigh, I wish I could contact my family back home, not just Tim of course. But I know I'm lucky compared to Mike Brady.

July 23, 1964

It's been a month since The Minnow set sail, for what turned out to be the last time. We're no closer to being rescued than we were, especially after I accidentally exploded all the signal flares in the supply hut. (I left a crate of them in the jungle luckily.)

A few days ago, we had a chance but I blew it. There was a lady pilot who was supposed to fly over our island on her journey around the world, so the Professor hypnotized the Skipper so he could remember how to turn the radio into a transmitter. But the Professor couldn't get it to work when he followed the Skipper's instructions. I was on sentry duty (I don't know why they always pick me, there are four other men!), and I accidentally fixed the transmitter, but then when I tried to show how I did it, I accidentally broke it.

I wasn't this accident-prone before I landed on this island. Sometimes I wonder if the Skipper's right that we're cursed.

July 28, 1964

We've been on the island over a month and we're still living in the communal hut. The men refuse to build us separate huts. They offer a variety of overlapping excuses: we might be rescued soon, there are more urgent projects, it's too much work, and things are fine as they are. But the strain of all living in one building (I can't really call it a home) is building again. I would like a little privacy and the other women agree. Well, not Alice, who doesn't want to give an opinion. She's one of us, but on the other hand, she works for Mr. Brady and doesn't like to disagree with him. (Obviously, he can't pay her while we're on the island, but she feels loyalty to his family, having joined them when Barbara was pregnant with Bobby.)

What most upsets me is that the men don't take us seriously. They figuratively pat us on the head and say that we should leave the decisions to them. They know best. We're all intelligent women (certainly more intelligent than Gilligan, although he's the man who condescends to us the least), and there are just as many of us as there are of them, five each now that Barbara's gone. I can't help wondering which side she would take if she were here. Mrs. Howell disagrees with her husband, but Barbara seemed to keep her thoughts to herself more.

July 29, 1964

Wow, all the women and girls have left us! They were getting ticked off about living in the group hut, but none of us thought they were this mad. They've gone to live on the other side of the island, even though we tried to talk them out of it. They all went—Ginger, Mary Ann, Mrs. Howell, Mrs. Martin and her little girls, even Alice, Mr. Brady's maid. And none of us men know anything about taking care of three little boys.

But Mr. Howell is sure that they'll all be back by sundown. I hope so, because I've got to do the cooking while they're gone. I'm going to make fish stew. I think I've got everything—pineapples, coconuts, and wild berries.

July 29, 1964

We couldn't take the men's attitudes anymore, so we've left them! It's not easy trying to build shelter on our own, even teaming up more than we did after we first arrived on the island, but Ginger has gone back to the men to get a smaller hammer. She's as alluring in person as onscreen, and she did wheedle tools out of Gilligan a few weeks ago, so I'm sure she'll be successful.

Alice sighed, "If it were me, I don't think I'd have any luck." She's always putting herself down. She's not bad-looking but of course not as young and glamorous as Ginger.

Alice was the hardest to convince to accompany us. She said that Mr. Brady would be helpless without her, especially with the little boys to take care of. But I pointed out that that would make him give in more quickly, and if we can convince him, then maybe he can convince the other men. After all, he's the one who would be designing the separate huts, and he can be very persuasive. And Mrs. Howell is sure that her husband will cave in by nightfall, since he's very dependent on her.

It was Mrs. Howell's idea to begin with. She mentioned Lysistrata, and since I'm the only other woman on the island with a college education, I was the only one who understood the reference. I didn't point out that the women in the play didn't simply ignore the men. Mary Ann is very young and innocent, and of course Marcia was listening, so I didn't want to explain the actual plot. As Mrs. Howell is the only woman on the island with her husband, she's the only one who could ignore a man in that particular way. (I don't know if I could manage it if Tim were here. But if he were, I hope he would take our side, rather than the men's.)

Oh, here comes Ginger! She doesn't have any tools, but she's smiling. I wonder what happened.

July 30, 1964

Mr. Howell had a foolproof plan to get the women and girls to move back, but it didn't work. He had me and the Skipper dress up as a monster and go scare them at their camp. But when they saw us, Mrs. Howell said they'd kill the monster and send its head back to the men! Then they all beat on us with bamboo sticks! Even the little girls, Marcia and Jan, giggling the whole time, while the baby sat on the sand clapping her hands.

We had to reveal ourselves before they killed us. Then they sent us away. And today I'm stuck doing laundry.

July 31, 1964

Well, we're back in the community hut, for now. Life without the men was difficult, especially trying to construct a hut for the eight of us, but I guess it was even harder for them. They tried to scare us with the Skipper and Gilligan in a monster costume, but Mrs. Howell, who comes up with a lot of clever plans, had us attack the "monster."

The next night, last night, Mr. Howell showed up, apparently to reconcile with his wife, but we thought he was a Peeping Tom at first. Then later we thought the men were operating another monster, a more elaborate one, but it turned out they weren't in it!

The other women got so scared that they rushed to the protection of the men: Mrs. Howell to her husband of course, but also interestingly Ginger to the Professor, Mary Ann to Gilligan, and Alice to the Skipper. I really wished Tim were here then. Instead I huddled with my girls. (Mr. Brady had stayed behind in the camp with his boys.)

Then the Skipper and Gilligan went to investigate. The Skipper came back to report, and then the Professor realized that this monster was a lost weather balloon! He said we could inflate it and send it up with messages. Unfortunately, Gilligan attacked it, thinking it was a dragon!

So we're still stuck on the island, still stuck in this hut. But the men have promised to build separate huts, when they get a chance.