About the diary writer
- Barbara McDowell Whitt
- Kansas City, Missouri, Alexandria, Virginia, United States
- ~ About: A 1961-65 Park College Diary ~ As a high school girl and then a college coed in the first half of the 1960s, I wrote nightly entries on the pages of one-year diaries. In January 2010 I began transcribing the entries into a blog and gave each one a title. I grew up on three farms within 30 miles of Iowa City and the University of Iowa with its Iowa Writers' Workshop. As the oldest of four daughters, in my diaries I sometimes referred to my sisters as "the kids" or "the girls." We helped our parents, but we also had good, wholesome fun - a characteristic I took with me to Park. Park is 300 miles southwest of West Chester, Iowa, in Parkville, Missouri, on the Missouri River 10 miles northwest of Kansas City, Missouri, and across the river from Kansas City, Kansas. In 2000 Park College became Park University. Today Park's flagship campus is in Parkville and there are an additional 41 campus centers across the nation. Park was one of the first educational institutions in the United States to offer online learning. My last post was on May 22, 2018. I may be followed on Twitter @BarbaraMcDWhitt.
Margie Has Gone Downstairs to Call Home - Wednesday, December 5, 1962
Margie has just gone downstairs to call home to see if she left one of her religion books at home - she can't find it (but the strange thing is the library no longer has a card for it!). The case of the missing book. It would be something if I called home about a missing book! I never have called home. Last night I was working on my paper in the trunk room when I heard boys' voices. It was Nickel coming to bring our tree back and give us a party. It was nice. Proof read this afternoon. Doing terrible in French - but I imagine it's only temporary (gosh, I did the one right she called on me for, so maybe she doesn't know).
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2 comments:
I was thinking the other day about long distance calling and how that really doesn't exist anymore. I think a part of me still associates a phone call with bad news because one of the few times we would get a long distance phone call was when it was bad news. Calling was not a frivolous activity!
Also I loved my phone number when I was kid; it was Red 3. Typical conversation when I called home from my dad's shop:
Central: Number please.
Ronnie: Hello central, give me Red 3.
Central: Ronnie, does your mother know you are on the phone?
Ronnie: (exasperatedly) Yes.
Seems very weird now.
That my parents were so concerned about the cost of a "long distance" phone call and that, in my case, we had one pay phone, just to right of the front door, for the entire dorm to use for incoming and outgoing long distance calls is something that will have my granddaughter in disbelief.
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