With the recent revelation that our new Supreme Court justice, Bret Kavanaugh, has kept a diary for the majority of his life, people found it odd that a teenaged boy would keep a diary.
I didn't find that particularly odd.
The rich and the successful are different than you or I, my friends, and I DO consider all of you to be my friends.
Except for you, that is.
Anyway...
My beloved husband Christian has kept impeccable records all of his life.
Names, dates, blood types.
We were at the airport one day, standing in the VIP lounge, when a man came up to us.
"Excuse me, Mr. Grey," he said, "but were you ever in Chicago?"
Christian took out his personal diary, opened it, and searched.
"Cities... cities..." he said. "Chicago. Yes, I've been to Chicago."
"You were?" the gentleman said "Well, were you ever in Archie's Place?"
"Hold on," Christian told him, and again started to search through his personal diary.
"Taverns... taverns... Archie's Place. Yes, as a matter of fact, I have been to Archie's Place."
The man grew agitated.
"Did you ever meet a girl there named Susie Jones?" he demanded to know.
"Hold on, old chap," Christian told him. "Let me see... let me see..." and he referred to his personal diary yet again. "Girls... girls... Johnson... Jones... Mary... Sarah... Susie. Susie Jones! Yes, I have met Susie Jones."
"Oh, yeah?" the man said, looking ready to put up his dukes. "Well, I'm her husband and I don't like it."
Christian referred to his personal diary a final time.
"Opinions... opinions... It seems I didn't like it, either," he said.