Carly's Diary

Carly’s Diary is an unfinished, coming-of-age work of fiction, written in diary format that takes place in the early 1970’s. Carly, the main character, is loosely based on my life when I was 12 going on 13.

Before you read some excerpts from the book, here is the true story of how Carly, a fictional character, brought two real, live people together resulting in a wedding at a bookstore.

In the spring of 1997, pursuing a new passion, Bonnie Neubauer attended a creative writing workshop. One of the 10-minute exercises was to invent a character and then start with “I remember my first…” A month later, she attended a group for writers at Borders Books and Music in Springfield, PA. When it came time to read, Bonnie volunteered, and read that very exercise from the point of view of a character named Carly, “I remember my first boy-girl party…” The group wanted to hear more, but there was no more. They encouraged her to write a book in diary format, and Carly’s Diary was born. Bonnie wrote episode after episode and the group quickly became enamored with Carly.

Unbeknownst to her, one of the members of the group told a business acquaintance, Gil Seagraves, about the group. In particular, he mentioned a “cute, little Jewish girl who is reading a very funny story about a 12 year old.” Gil, not a writer, yet an extraordinary storyteller, thought to himself, “I have to go to the group and meet this girl.” For him, it was a destiny kind of feeling.

Bonnie was dating someone else, but Gil immediately knew that she was the one for him. He exercised patience, waiting for the right moment. In the interim, they subtly flirted. Six months later, Bonnie mentioned something about her ex-boyfriend and Gil struck! Their first date lasted 15 hours… or to be more specific, it’s still going on.

On July 18, 1998, Gil, in his shy and inimitable way, asked for Bonnie’s hand in marriage in front of 1500+ people, on-stage at “Concert Under The Stars” in King of Prussia, PA. She shouted YES into the microphone (as opposed to fainting!)

They were married on April 2, 2000 at the very same bookstore where they met.

To see wedding photos and newspaper articles go to the Friends and Family page.

Not long after I met Gil, I stopped writing Carly’s Diary. To this day I am always asked by friends to read them more Carly stories. Here are some excerpts for them and anyone else who needs a good chuckle. Enjoy at your own risk. They are not edited, have character inconsistencies and lots of other flaws!

Passover

April 9, 1971
We’re heading out to the first Passover Seder in an hour. I hate Seder food, especially gefilte fish, and I don’t want to starve to death, so I’m going downstairs to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It’s also my last chance to eat bread for a whole week.

April 10
The seder was like every other year. BORING. I was at the kids table AGAIN. My cousin spilled black cherry soda all over, two twerpy boys who are friends of the family had a fight where they poured salt down each others pants, and my stupid sisters ate the matzo before we were supposed to, and got an evil eye from this weird old man at the adult table. He’s there every year but I have no idea who he is. And I can never understand him because his dentures clack real loud. He gives me the creeps.
I snuck some Manishevitz wine. It tasted pretty good, but burned on the way down. I was hoping it would make me drunk so I would be taken out of my kids table misery. But nothing happened. I guess you don’t get drunk on only 2 sips. I bet my family would hate it if I grew up to be a drunk…especially when they find out it started at a Seder because I was too old to be at the kids table. I tried gefilte fish for the first time since I was 7. It’s definitely an acquired taste. I spit it out into my napkin and then hid it under the plate of one of the jerk salt-fighting-brothers. He never noticed. Basically I sat at a table full of immature idiots.
The service part of the seder went on forever. But I didn’t mind because I brought a little crossword puzzle book which I slid inside the Haggadah. I did the puzzles in my head and It was sort of challenging.
I lip-synced some of the songs which made the time pass faster, too. And I even really sang DIANU out loud.
Tonight we’re going to Grandmom’s. No service, no creepy people I don’t know. Just good food!! This is the non-religious side of the family. And it’s pretty obvious which side I take after!!

April 11
Grandmom’s kugel is the best! I had 4 pieces and she gave me more to take home. Grandpop hid the Afikomen and Robin found it. And we each got a $5 reward anyway. And there was NO kids table!!! My Grandmom knows how to make people feel good. And when you say no to eating gefilte fish, she doesn’t make you feel guilty!! I’m glad I take after her and grandpop!!

April 12
We had fried matzo for breakfast. It’s gross and tastes like yellow slime mixed with cardboard. Lunch was matzo ball soup with buttered matzo. I am starving to death. This holiday is for the birds.

April 13
I discovered my mom didn’t throw away all the bread products, like you’re supposed to. She just hid them in the cabinet above the oven. When everyone was upstairs, I made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It tasted great!
I don’t mean to be gross, diary, but eating matzo for the last 3 days has made me constipated. My poops yesterday were like 3 little superballs, the kind you play jacks with. And today I didn’t go #2 at all. I feel like I have to fart, but can’t. I am through with matzo FOREVER!! I wonder if other people write about the shape of their poops in their diaries. I know Anne Frank didn’t…

April 14
I am worried because I am still constipated. I know raisins are good for constipation so I am eating them as I write this.

April 15
Diary, I can’t tell anyone else this, not even Melly, so I am telling you. I sat on the toilet for 20 minutes and all I did was one golf ball sized doody. And I ate that entire 15 ounce box of raisins yesterday. The only thing I know to do is eat salad and raisins. And I did that. I hope I don’t have some horrible disease.

April 16
My worries are over. This morning I had a belly ache and I rushed to the bathroom. As soon as I sat on the toilet I took a really long poop. It looked like a snake. I feel so much better. And now I’m starved! But I am certainly not going to eat matzo!
P.S. Diary, I hope if someday I become famous, and this gets published, they will leave out this whole Passover constipation thing.

Mahjongg

October 1970, night before mahjongg
Tomorrow night’s Mahjongg night at our house. Good thing it’s only once every 5 or 6 weeks. I couldn’t take it if it were any more often. My mother turns into a cleanliness fanatic. We’re not allowed to touch anything in the house for 2 whole days.

And worse yet, we’re not allowed to eat anything without asking permission…. Because god-forbid we’d eat something that was specially bought for the mahjongg ladies. This includes stuff like Cap’n Crunch cereal which the mahjongg ladies would NEVER eat. It’s insane. Our refrigerator looks like it belongs to some sort of mahjongg catering company. There’s a case of this gross diet grapefruit soda. And another case of diet chocolate soda… which actually tastes pretty good. But how much soda can 5 ladies drink in 5 hours? There’s even freshly ground coffee for the percolator. They’re going to float out of here. Well, at least that guarantees they’ll be leaving at the end of the night. There’s also a pineapple cut in half with fancy toothpicks stuck into each pineapple cube, all covered with plastic wrap. And a tray of cold cuts also with tooth picks in it and also covered with plastic. And the cabinets are overflowing with bags of stuff like sour cream and onion potato chips and boxes of bridge mix, dark chocolate non-pareils, Jordan Almonds and a box of “hands off or you’ll meet death” chocolate covered pretzels. On the countertop are goodies from the expensive bakery where we usually only get birthday cakes. I snuck a peek and one looks like it’s filled with cheese, cherry and blueberry danish. The other one is some sort of really heavy chocolate cake. I can’t believe I forgot to check out the freezer. I bet there are at least 2 Sara Lee Banana Cakes in there.

From the minute the cleaning lady left today, we’ve only been allowed in the kitchen for meals. On the way to the basement we’re allowed to walk through the living room and dining room but we’re not allowed to touch anything in those rooms. Even our bedrooms are almost off limits.

All the mahjongg ladies have been in our house on non-mahjongg days. They’ve seen the huge pile of laundry on the floor in the laundry room. They’ve experienced my sisters’ Barbie Dolls in the middle of the living room. They’ve seen my Dad’s smelly shoes piled up on the steps waiting to be carried upstairs to his closet which smells like dirty feet. And they’ve used the bathroom without those special finger tip towels that my mom puts out only for mahjongg ladies and thanksgiving company. So I can’t figure out why our house turns into some sort of shrine for 2 days.

But the worst part is the actual night. And that’s not until tomorrow. A whole 26 hours, 43 minutes and 13 seconds from now. Then we’re banned from going downstairs. We’re given a couple snacks and a drink and sent upstairs to entertain ourselves and hopefully fall asleep early. The only time the mahjongg game can be interrupted is if there’s a dire emergency. If one of my sisters feels sick, it’s not an emergency. If one of my sisters gets sick, it’s a borderline call. If she gets sick twice, then it’s ok to call downstairs. But that would embarrass my mom in front of the mahjongg ladies because her children can’t take care of themselves for just one evening every 5 or 6 weeks. It’s so weird. When there’s a mahjongg set within sight, my mom turns into a kook. The rest of the time she’s pretty cool. Still a mom, but pretty cool for a mom.

About a half hour before the ladies arrive we’re actually allowed in the kitchen to help set up. My sisters and I get to dump the chips and chocolates into bowls and carry them over to the serving area. And we get to open the mahjongg set and take out the trays and tiles. And build walls to set up the first game. I like that part. I like the sound of the tiles on the table. They make a really neato clicking sound. From so many summers of watching them play at the swim club, I definitely know how to play. I bet I’d be good. If I

wanted I could set up the tiles in the walls to help certain players win. If I knew where everyone was going to sit I’d definitely fix it so my mom’s best friend would lose. I hate her. Instead, I just focus on stealing candy in a way that it doesn’t look like I’ve taken any. I’ve gotten pretty good at that over the years.

Then, ten minutes before the ladies arrive, my mom shoos us upstairs and makes sure we’re situated in front of the T.V. with our snacks and reminds us to be quiet. By now she’s usually in an uptight mood and she’s kind of yelling at us. She always rechecks the bathroom to make sure it’s sparkling and that those fingertip towels are perfectly folded. And then she goes downstairs.

When the first lady arrives my mom’s voice turns from her yelling and annoyed-at-us tone to a really sweet-sounding voice. It’s like she goes through some sort of major personality operation. I HATE mahjongg night. I’m dreading tomorrow night already.

Mahjongg night
Mahjongg night has officially begun. We’re banished to the upstairs. My mom’s best friend was the first to arrive. She’s usually late for everything…but not for mahjongg at our house!! She has a grating voice that sounds like she talking through her nose and she snaps her gum which she’s always chewing. That makes me hate gum. I NEVER chew it which makes my orthodontist think I’m a saint. Even though she’s downstairs, her voice is so loud she’s drowning out our t.v. show up here.

The 2 ladies who live down the block arrived together. One is a chain smoker. My mom, who has asthma, doesn’t let her smoke in the house. This is a good indicator my mom doesn’t undergo a TOTAL personality change for this event. And the other lady wears too much perfume. Seventeen magazine says that when wearing expensive perfume you’re just to apply a couple dabs in a few alluring spots. Either she wears cheap perfume so those rules don’t apply or over the years she has totally killed of her sense of smell. You can always tell which chair she sits in because it reeks of her perfume. Tomorrow morning I

plan on going downstairs early to check to make sure she didn’t sit in MY chair. If she did, I’m switching it with my mom’s. I figure it’s her friend, she should suffer. The 5th lady lives farther away and drives over. I think she’s nice, an intellectual-type, and I don’t know why she’s with this crowd. Maybe they don’t have mahjongg games in her neighborhood.

My sisters and I are now sitting at the top of the steps and we’re trying to listen in on what the ladies are saying. I’m going to be brave and go down a few steps to try and hear better.

They’re laughing about my mom’s best friend’s kid who still wets the bed sometimes. That’s not funny. Even though the kid is definitely a turd and a little jerk, that definitely is not funny. If my mom reveals any secrets about us (especially me) I’m going to be real angry. Now they’re talking about our next door neighbors. My mom’s best friend is so loud, the next door neighbors can probably hear her through the walls. Now they’re gossiping about a lady from the swim club who is sick and in the hospital from taking too many diet pills. As my Dad says, “These ladies don’t laugh, they cackle!” And they do it at the expense of others. It’s making me real mad.

It’s also kind of cool to just listen to them talk without hearing the words. They are talking to same beat of the tiles they keep discarding onto the table. A little like rock music. (Tile music!! HA! HA!) I really love that sound. A much as I hate these ladies, I’d really love to be down there playing mahjongg with them. And especially eating those chocolate covered pretzels. And maybe even drinking some of that diet chocolate soda. And making the tiles click as I say, “ 2 Bam… 8 Bam… 3 Crack… North… Flower…Mahjongg!!!!” I can see myself building my wall as we get ready to play the next game. And then finding a great hand on my very own mahjongg card. And I could tell them some really juicy stories about their not so darling children! I bet I’d have them cackling in no time!!

Well, this is getting kind of boring. My little sister (insert name!!) is practically falling asleep on the top landing of the steps. The other idiot-child has been whispering nonstop to her favorite Barbie Doll all evening. It scares me to think of what she whispers. Guess I’ll go see what’s on t.v. And bury my nose in my parent’s bedspread to escape the smell of gross perfume which has unfortunately made its way upstairs.

My Dad is lucky. He has poker the same night as mahjongg. I bet he’d REALLY hate being here and listening to the mahjongg ladies. If I turn the t.v. loud enough I think I can almost tune them out. Except, of course, my mom’s best friend.

At least in the morning we’ll be allowed to live in our house again, instead of feeling like intruders. When I grow up I think I’ll be part of a mahjongg group. Maybe with Melly and the 2 Susans and Lauren. Or maybe we’ll be real radical and have boys in our group. Wouldn’t that upset my mom’s generation!! Well, good night. I’m going to dream that there will be some good food left over for me to eat tomorrow.

Day after mahjongg night
There wasn’t one single chocolate covered pretzel left over. But I’ve discovered I like Jordan Almonds. The candy covering is pretty good. I can’t believe how much of that disgusting diet grapefruit soda they drank.

Last night, just as I was about to fall asleep my mom’s best friend came upstairs to use the bathroom. And snoop around. I don’t know what she’s looking for. My mom talks to her at least twice a day, and tells her EVERYTHING. She even peeked in my room. I kept my eyes closed and made believe I was asleep. But I knew it was her by that disgusting snapping gum sound. If she thinks I’m ever referring to her again as “aunt” she can forget it. I’ve outgrown that! When I’m married I’m going to make sure my husband is my best friend. Not some nosy, noisy neighborhood lady.

Feeling Up

A Monday night in November, 1970
I just got off the phone with Melly. We were on for over an hour and a half… until I got yelled at that I was going to set a world’s record and along the way get cauliflower ear. I know a ton of people who talk on the phone more than I do (especially Susan P and Susan T.) And besides, I’ve never seen anyone with cauliflower ear so I think it’s a bunch of bull. Since I really wanted to watch Laugh In which had already started, I got off. And now my mom thinks I listened to her advice. Right now there’s a commercial on, The Frito Bandito, which is pretty cute. If I had known we were in the middle of commercials, I would have stayed on for 2 more minutes.

Lauren told Melly she overheard her brother talking to Richie’s brother. And they were making fun of how they heard Richie talking to Brian about wanting to feel me up. I can’t believe how embarrassing this is. Now the whole neighborhood is going to know! Lauren is such a big mouth! But it’s certainly great news! I was beginning to think Richie didn’t like me anymore because he never tried to feel me up. But now Melly and I think he’s just scared. I’m his first girlfriend. But he’s my second boyfriend. So I have more experience. I wonder if he asked his brother how to do it. That would be cool, being felt up by a boy who got advice from his really, really, really cute 16 year old brother Richie’s a good kisser and all. But he could be better. And just kissing is starting to get boring.

Commercials are over. Laugh In’s on. Bye bye for now.

P.S. It’s only been 5 minutes and already there are more commercials. Mr. Clean… which is totally dumb. I’ve been thinking how I wish I hadn’t worn my one and only pretty bra today. Because that’s the one I want to wear when Richie feels me up. And my mom takes forever to do laundry. I guess I can wear it again tomorrow without having it washed. That’s not too gross, I don’t think. And I didn’t really sweat today.

Tuesday (next day)
I wore the pretty bra again today just to be safe. But Richie’s not coming over to hang out until tomorrow. I think I can pay off my sisters to stay upstairs so Richie and I can have the whole basement to ourselves. A quarter each and a promise to play Barbies with them after Richie leaves should do the trick. Maybe I can show them what Barbie and Ken really do when they’re nude and get locked in the case for the night. That would be fun! But I’m sure my parents would find out and I’d end up getting yelled at because my little sister repeats everything I say.

I’m definitely going to wear the pretty bra again tomorrow. And put on some of that Love’s Fresh Lemon Body Mist I bought last weekend at Gimbels. That way I can smell good and look good when Richie puts his hand under my blouse. I’m also definitely going to wear my denim shirt tucked-out so he won’t have any trouble.

Melly says Richie is going to chicken out. I say he’s going to do it. Well, we’ll know for sure tomorrow. I can’t wait. I promised Melly I’d call her as soon as we do it and Richie leaves.

I had trouble concentrating today. I kept looking over at Richie, trying to get a good look at his hands. He keeps them in his pockets a lot. I never noticed that before. I wonder why. I think he has nice strong hands and shouldn’t hide them. I hope they’re not sweaty from nerves when he feels me up. That would be gross. Now I’m going to pick out which record album we can make out to tomorrow.

Wednesday
Life isn’t fair. Richie couldn’t come over this afternoon. He had to baby sit his bratty little brother because his mom had to go to an urgent parent-teacher meeting. The brat has been shooting spit balls at younger kids during recess. Little brothers and sisters sure can ruin life. And I wore the pretty bra again today!
Now I wish I never broke up with Robert since he’s an only child. We used to make out for hours in his basement without any interruptions from brats. But he’s going out with Lauren now. And besides I broke up with him so I could go out with Richie.

I forgot to ask Richie if he can come over tomorrow. Just in case, I’m going to wear the pretty again.

The 2 Susans keep bugging Melly and me to find out what we’ve been whispering about. But I made Melly swear she wouldn’t tell them about Richie feeling me up. I can’t believe blabber-mouth Lauren never told anyone else about this. Now the 2 Susans are whispering to each other, trying to make Melly and me jealous. But we know they’re just faking us out. So we’ve decided to just act cool and ignore them. The 2 Susans can be so childish sometimes. Right now I wish they weren’t part of our crowd. We need some more mature and experienced girls… but not more experienced than me.

Thursday
I forgot. I had Hebrew School today. I wore the bra again for nothing.

Melly says Richie is chicken and made up the excuse he had to baby sit so he wouldn’t have to feel me up. I say she’s jealous because she doesn’t have a boyfriend right now. And David never felt her up the whole time they were going steady. And now David’s going out with Ellen. And rumor is that he not only felt up Ellen, but she let him suck on her breasts. No wonder Melly’s mad.

I don’t want Richie to suck on my breasts yet. I’m not even exactly sure what that means. Would he lick them like a lollipop? Or put the whole thing in his mouth like a jaw breaker? Mine are little and too flat to do that. I wish Melly’s sister wasn’t so mean to us. She’d be the perfect person to ask about this.

I’m going to wear the pretty bra again tomorrow. It’s getting a bit smelly but not too bad. Mostly because the heat in school is too hot and I’ve been sweating. But it still looks pretty and the pink bow still feels like it’s new. And I can rub some more of that Love’s Fresh Lemon stuff right on the bra. If only my mom did laundry every day like Melly’s mom. It could be washed and dried in time for tomorrow. Oh well.

I had trouble concentrating in school today. I kept looking over at Richie, trying to get a good look at his hands. He keeps them in his pockets a lot I never noticed that before. I wonder why. I think he has nice strong hands and shouldn’t hide them. I hope they’re not sweaty from nerves when he feels me up. That would be gross.

Now I’m going to pick out which record album we can make out to tomorrow.

Friday
Richie finally came over after school. And I had the bra on. I didn’t even have to pay off my sisters to get lost. They were next door playing Barbies. And my mom was outside talking to neighbors. The setting was perfect!!

Richie and I grabbed pop tarts and orange juice and went down the basement and locked the door. We were making out on the sofa when we heard weird noises coming from outside the window. It was Robert, Lauren, Melly, both Susans and Brian…trying to peek in through the frosted basement windows.

We ended up having a kind-of party in my basement. When my mom came inside she sent down bowls of pretzels, chips and M&M’s. And some soda, too. We danced a bit to Credence Clearwater Revival, but mostly played spin the bottle.

After spinning Lauren and Melly, Richie finally spun me. We went into the laundry room. While we were kissing he felt me up. He never got to see my bra because spin the bottle rules are that all lights in the laundry room are to be out. It smells like detergent in there so he couldn’t tell that I had been wearing the same bra for 5 days in a row. But he did it!!! And his hands weren’t sweaty! It felt different than with Robert. My nipples felt like that JuJuBee candy. My belly had butterflies. And I felt tingling down there. I mean in my crotch. I’m not sure if it was in my vagina, but definitely somewhere down there. I sort of felt like I had to pee. Boy was it was exciting!! But over fast. When Richie and I came out of the laundry room, Melly says we were both smiling huge smiles. I think everybody knew what we did. And I was glad!

The party broke up at dinner time. Richie stayed and had brisket with my family. We both acted normal and I don’t think my parents suspected a thing. After dinner walked up to Susan P’s where we all hung out some more. Richie and I held hands while walking. We make a great couple and we’re officially going steady.

I think I am in love with Richie. He’s so cute. Right now his hair is getting a bit long and he reminds me of Peter from the Monkees. So, so cute!! If I marry him my name will be Carly Ann Goldberg. Not as good as Carly Ann Tepper, but I could get used to it!

Well, I’m tired so I am going to go to sleep now. And dream about today!

Flag Day, 1971

June 14
Today’s my 3rd anniversary of getting the chicken pox. To commemorate this special day I had oatmeal for breakfast. It was even a bit runny, just like the baths I had to take!!! I am very glad you only get chicken pox once!!

Melly’s Sister’s Birthday

March 29, 1971
Tomorow is Melly’s sister’s birthday. Melly made me swear I won’t give her anything. They’re in a huge fight over the fact that Melly got caught snooping in her sister’s closet. Thank god it was one of the times I wasn’t there. We don’t snoop around in the closet often, maybe like twice a month. Mostly just to check out the new stuff. Even though Melly’s house looks the same as mine from the outside, somehow they have an extra closet in her sister’s room. They also have a powder room on the first floor. But our basement is bigger. And that’s more important because that’s where we always hang out. In Melly’s house, everyone’s allowed in the moth-ball closet in her sister’s room. It’s the other closet that’s off-bounds to Melly. You’d think her sister was hiding a dead body in there or something.

Anyway, Melly’s definitely not buying her sister a birthday present this year. Besides, last month, her sister gave Melly a crappy gift for her birthday - some old, used Archie comic books that her sister no longer needs because she’s too old and too snobby to be caught reading them now. Melly said to me, “If you dare give my sister a birthday present, I won’t ever talk to you again. I won’t even look in your direction. And if I have to, I will look right through you.” I crossed my heart and hoped to die swearing I won’t give her sister a gift and that made Melly feel better. But I could tell she wasn’t 100% sure I wouldn’t give her sister some sort of gift. She knows I’d kill to have an older sister, even a mean one like hers. So when I left her house she said, “Remember, you can’t buy an older sister. And even if you could, mine isn’t worth 2 cents!”

Now I’m in a dilemma. I bought her sister a gift last week. It’s nothing great. Just a couple peace-sign patches for her to sew on her jeans. Next year she’ll be 16 and I want to be on her good side so she’ll drive us all around. Like to the movies on Saturday afternoons, or ice skating on Friday nights, or even just out to dinner or shopping. She’s really not a bad big sister. I’d take her. She’s better than what I’ve got now - which is nothing. In my house I am the big sister.

March 30, 1971
Melly’s sister didn’t have a party in the house. Her mom took her and her 2 best friends and Melly out to a real fancy lunch. I wanted to go. Melly screamed and shouted and cried because she didn’t want to. But in the end her mom made her go. She went with puffy eyes from crying. And wore sunglasses. I know because I was at her house while she was getting ready. They all looked great, even Melly, but especially her sister. She had on the most beautiful peasant dress. And frosted white lip gloss. She looked pretty. Just like a model out of the pages of Seventeen Magazine.

I took pictures of everyone with her sister’s new Swinger Polaroid Camera. I think it was a birthday present from their grandmother. Grandparents give the best gifts, especially my grandparents. They give what you ask for, not what moms say you need. I love how fast you can see the pictures from the camera. But I don’t really like the smell of that chemical stuff you have to roll on top of them. Melly likes that. Of course she would. She also likes the smell of dittoes in school. And nail polish remover, too. I think her sense of smell is warped.

Speak of smells, Melly’s mom made her buy a gift for her sister. She got her Wind Song Spray Cologne. Melly said, “Just because my sister is a rat, doesn’t mean she has to smell like one, too.” They’re still in a fight.

I decided to give her sister my gift after all. I snuck into her sister’s room and put the patches on her pillow. They’re wrapped in flower power paper, with a card that’s bigger than the whole present. The card says, “One more year until you’re SWEET Sixteen… So you better start practicing!!” and there’s pictures of candy all over. I think it’s pretty funny!! I bet even Melly would laugh at it… and she hasn’t laughed for the last 2 days. I signed it, “Love, Carly.” And I wrote in big letters, “DO NOT LET MELLY KNOW I GAVE YOU A CARD OR A GIFT. SHE WILL HAVE MY HEAD. I AM SURE YOU CAN RELATE TO THIS!!!!!” With 5 exclamation points!

March 31, 1971
Melly says that it was nice that I gave her sister a gift. I didn’t question how she found out about it. I just hope she didn’t see the card!! Melly’s great as a best friend. But having her as an enemy is a scary thought. She likes to hold grudges.

Now Melly just has to make it through 364 more days without fighting with her sister. Because once her sister’s 16, I just know she’ll do anything to get to use the car, including driving me and Melly all over the place. She might boss us around, but by then we’ll almost be 14 and we’ll know how to take it better.

But the best will be when Melly and I are 16. We’ll go out shopping all the time. And to the far away shopping centers, not just the close ones like our moms always go to. We’ll take turns driving. And we’ll be going on dates with boys in cars! No more parents dropping us off and picking us up.

In the mean time, it’ll be better having Melly’s sister make fun of us for making out in the back seat… than when parents drive and we have to sit still like we’re 6 year olds who have never kissed and for sure who have never been felt-up. I wonder if Melly’s sister has had sex yet. She’s still way to young in my opinion, but you never know. She’s very pretty. And rumors are that pretty girls are faster than ordinary looking ones like Melly and me. I plan on waiting until I am married before having sex. Melly does too. If her sister did already have sex, the only way we could find out would be to find her diary, which we still haven’t been able to find after looking everywhere for it for the last 3 years. Or we could listen in when she talks on the phone with her boyfriend. As long as we don’t get caught, that is!! But even if we do, we have a whole year before she turns 16 to get back on her good side!!

James Taylor

July 7, 1971
I hate James Taylor. He’s getting really popular… but he didn’t even write “You’ve Got A Friend.” Carole King did. She should be the one who gets to make all the money and get all the fame. I refuse to buy the 45 and whenever the song’s on the radio I vow to change the station. No one else seems the least bit concerned Carole King is missing out. But I plan on sticking to my guns.

July 19
“You’ve Got A Friend” is #1 on the chart… and I hate James Taylor more than ever. It’s getting harder to keep changing stations to avoid it. Every station plays it every 5 seconds. Every one of my friends has the 45. And they’re all in love with James Taylor. There’s talk already that we’re going to sing it when we graduate from eighth grade next June! Why doesn’t Carole King do something about this? The only thing I can think of is that James Taylor is her friend… and if that’s the case, the lyrics say it all!!!

July 22
Melly’s sister’s best friend’s boyfriend, who plays the guitar, says Carole King gets something called royalties for “You’ve Got A Friend.” That’s money for being the song -writer. That makes me feel better. Now I don’t hate James Taylor as much.

July 25
I may buy the “You’ve Got A Friend” 45 this weekend. Ever since I learned about royalties I’m less “down and troubled” about my purchase now.

July 28
I bought the 45. Carole King’s name is right under the title of the song. I’m glad I’ve now contributed to her royalties. Anything I can do to help her get famous! James Taylor’s voice is pretty smooth and kind of romantic… and I give Carole King credit for choosing him to record it!

July 31
I just got yelled at for playing “You’ve Got A Friend” too loud and too many times in a row. Why can’t parents appreciate great music?

August 4
Brian and I made-out to “You’ve Got A Friend” tonight. We played it over and over and over again. We were in his basement on the floor leaning against the sofa. This time we remembered to lock the door so his little brother couldn’t bug us. I imagined Brian was James Taylor and I was Carole King. I had chills running up and down my spine every time I heard the lyrics, “you just call out my name… and you know wherever I am.. I’ll come running to see you again.” Brian is so strong and warm. And I believe he really would come running to see me again. He’s on the track team and can out-run all the other boys…that’s for sure. I could have made-out all night long.

But Brian’s mom made Rice Krispie Treats and insisted we come upstairs and have some. I felt like my lips were red from so much kissing but there wasn’t a mirror in the kitchen for me to check. I hope Brian’s mom didn’t notice. But she seemed more concerned that there would be enough to eat. Making-out sure made Brian hungry. He ate over half the tray in 2 minutes. We never got to make out again because it was too late by the time we were done eating and talking to Brain’s mom. Now I’m going to put “You’ve Got A Friend” on the turntable and fall asleep to James Taylor’s voice … oh, and think about Brian… too.