Worth Noting
Mark Cooper
The first page of my childhood Index-Cards-On-A-Wire diary reads, “Today was my birthday. I got a shirt, this book. Mother gave me all this.” What I found worth noting as a 10-year-old stirs memories, just as any diary should.
A June note reads, “Tonight we went to see about strawberries at Henry Millers [an Amish neighbor]. Henry saw our tire was flat.”
Did Henry chuckle watching my dad wrestle with the flat, gloating to himself, “My buggy tires never go flat.” Did dad, wrestling with the tire and jack, remind himself, “I’d rather change an occasional tire than rely on a horse and buggy?”
Later that summer I confided, “I HAD to bale hay.” The capitalized “HAD” speaks volumes about my feelings towards fieldwork.
One entry leaves me with questions, “Last night [my brother] changed his set.” I’m clueless as to what that meant. Details do matter.
In early August of that year, I shared my most important news so far, “[My sister-in-law] had a baby girl at 2:30. Thay [sic] named her.”
Why didn’t I include her name? Did I not know how to spell it? Did I get called to supper before having time to write down her name? Or was I attempting to write a cliffhanger?
For many years, Mom used the kitchen wall calendar to keep her own notes, opening a glimpse into her busy life.
From a 1960s calendar I learned that, on March 28th of that year, she planted an annual favorite, snapdragons. A flower that happens to be growing in my own garden this year.
On a day in May she had written “sheep-shearing.” Mystifying, considering our family didn’t raise sheep.
A Monday reminder was for a 1:30 PM perm appointment. (This was before her first grandchild was born, and Mom declared it was time to wear her hair in a bun so she would look more like a grandma. No more hairdresser appointments.)
I saw that during this particular year she had several doctor appointments for herself, especially during the first few months.
Later, every few days, Mom started writing down measurements, “12¾,” “13,” “13½.” What was she measuring? Field crops? Her snapdragons? Then I found “26 ½ inches, 17 lbs.”
Dots connected in my mind, since this calendar was from my birth year (I forgot to mention that detail, didn’t I?). These numbers were tracking my own growth. Eagerly I flipped back to my birth month, what would be written there?
Absolutely nothing.
Mom had recorded the birthdays of 22 other people throughout that year, but nothing for the day I was born. What was up with that!?
Regardless of the reason, she never failed to observe my birthday in the years that followed. And 10 years later, she gave me my Index-Cards-On-A-Wire diary where I wrote about my niece’s birth.
And now, since you’re doubtlessly wondering about my niece’s name, it’s … um… ah…. Yeah, let me get back to you.
Last Updated on July 20, 2026 by AVC News
