1977

I know where I lived. I know who I was married to. I know that my son was a baby. I know little else. I know just from reconstruction that my husband was traveling a lot. When he was home we skied a lot, or if in summer, we took wonderful trips throughout the mountain west... which for a couple of kids from the midwest was a wonderland. (well, it still is to me all these years later.)

I know that when my husband wasn't home, I was horribly lonely. I drank every day though - whether I was lonely or not.

I remember a trip we made to Salt Lake City, Utah in October 1977. On a Sunday morning, we went to see the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (which was wonderful) and when we got back to the hotel, there was a message. My father in law had died suddenly of a heart attack. We quickly packed up and flew back to Chicago.

During that trip my husband stopped talking to me. I thought he was grieving. I still have no idea what happened really. It just occurs to me that maybe he was angry that we moved? But that makes no sense in light of the fact that we have been divorced for over 20 years and he lives only 5 miles from me.... Obviously, he never shared with me what changed. After we got back home to New Mexico, he spoke to me again, but something was different.

This is another year like 1971, I don't really remember.

There is a lot of my life that others remember a lot better than I do. It is odd to be so damaged that others may have a better idea of what I have done and what has happened in my life than I do. Just recently, my daughter, who is now sober in my old homegroup, told me about talking with one of my old friends. He asked her if I ever got my Volkswagen Jetta. She asked why. He told her I always wanted a new VW Jetta. Really? I don't remember that. It might explain why I have bought 5 new VWs since 1999 though. Two of them were Jettas.

Back to 1977: I know that I was drinking a lot. But I was staying at home and wasn't getting in trouble. Yet.