My parents recently found five journals in one of those listless cardboard boxes that leaves an attic only when somebody dies or the house is sold. (Don’t worry, everyone survived the sale of the house.) The journals were written by my paternal grandmother when she was living with her widowed mom in Gloversville, N.Y. It was July 1910. She was 16, an only child. The first entry begins “Dearest Anybody,” which I took as permission to start reading.
Each of my grandmothers died before I was born. I’ve seen a few austere photographs, but I don’t know what their voices sounded like or how they moved through a room. My family is small, and its history has never been part of my identity. I can probably name more ex-members of Black Flag than I can Rees ancestors. I assumed being disconnected from the past was just part of the modern condition, a liberating byproduct of cosmopolitanism.
Well, the modern condition is a scam. Leafing through your family’s antique media makes every subsequent moment spent clicking through social media feel like saccharine connectivity, a feast of empty calories. We should smash our computers and throw our phones into the ocean, then open every cardboard box in every attic on earth and read whatever falls out.
These are the most euphoric books I’ve ever read. At first, I could handle only a few pages each night—the experience was just too intense, provoking in me an ecstatic, wondering melancholy and a familial pride that felt both intimate and alien. My grandmother finally came rushing into my life with an adolescent, whooping vitality that felt as if it had been building for the entire century since her diaries had last been opened.
I assumed the diaries would be dark, astringent and antiquated, but my grandmother had much fun. She records three primary passions: eating ice cream (“... in the afternoon we had ice-cream. Oh delicious memory!”); going to church (“The minister preached on ‘cheerfulness,’ and it was awfully good”); and singing with her friends—that is, when they weren’t laid up with the mumps, or the grippe, or any of those other mysterious old-timey diseases.
But my teenage grandmother’s great genius was flirting. Those amazing boys! The “peachy,” “dandy,” “charming” boys of Gloversville, anointed with adjectives now reserved for Yelp reviews of bed-and-breakfasts. I can barely keep up with her crushes, or their fluctuations in status: “But what do you suppose [Peggy] told me? That Bill was mad at me because he thought I was mad at him because he talked to Velma Thorne! And there I didn’t even know he’d been talking to her! Wasn’t it funny...So I told [Ralph] to tell [Bill] I wasn’t mad and it didn’t bother me how much he talked to Velma!” It turns out poor Bill, being “stout” and a cigarette-bummer (“I hate to see a fellow smoke when he’s with a girl on the street, don’t you?”) was no match for Grant. Or Jonsey. Or the mysterious “Sunshine,” who, if my grandmother is to be believed, was, for one summer in 1911, the most alluring young man in the universe: “one grand rower, fisher and sportsman. Really I never saw anybody like him. Emma & I are both dippy over him!”
Arguments with adults are referred to but never detailed. She doesn’t resent her mother’s discipline, even when she gets a “lovely scolding” for finishing someone else’s ice cream. In contrast, I used my own teenage diary as a petri dish for cultivating ever more potent strains of bitterness, in part through recording every injustice I suffered: “We’re having a party in Latin tomorrow. I got mad at Mom because she only got normal chips. She said everyone likes normal plain chips. I mouthed off at her.” I like to think my teenage grandmother’s superior personality was due to her being 16 before the invention of “cool” as a virtue, or even, for that matter, “teenager” as an identity. Being surly is a challenge if it’s not expected of you, or if you’re too busy eating ice cream to bother. (I also acknowledge that she was objectively a better teenager.)
I haven’t finished reading the diaries; I don’t want to be done. But my favorite passage so far¬—the one that finally made me cry—was this, recorded in a moment’s happy aftermath and left as an unwitting legacy: It was a Monday evening in 1911, near the end of summer. My grandmother was sitting on the porch with friends after dining on egg sandwiches, pickles and peaches and cream (“delicious”). A neighbor started playing a hand organ. The music was irresistible : The girls “flew” across the street to listen, and when the neighbor started up with “Put Your Arms Around Me, Honey,” something magical happened: “We all began to dance—right on the street. The people on the corner were dancing on their porch, and we couldn’t help ourselves.”
Eventually the dancers stood still in the evening air to catch their breath. “We all felt so sweet and nice.”
And then, just when my teenage grandmother thought things couldn’t get any sweeter, Harvey walked by.
Vocabulary
1. journal: 日記;listless: 倦怠的,無精打采的;cardboard box: 紙箱;attic: 閣樓。
2. 不過別擔心,我們只是搬家,并沒有人去世。
3. paternal: 父系的,父親一方的;widowed: 寡居的。
4. austere: 樸素的,無裝飾的。
5. Black Flag: 黑旗,是一支美國純朋克搖滾樂隊,曾屢次更換樂隊成員;Rees ancestors: 這里指本文作者的先人們,Rees是筆者的家姓。
6. liberating: 令人覺得自由的;byproduct: 副產(chǎn)品;cosmopolitanism: 世界大同主義。
7. scam: 騙局,詭計。
8. 翻看家族前人遺留的古老記錄使我覺得后來經(jīng)由點擊社交媒體而建立的人際關系更像“加了糖”一般甜得發(fā)膩,看似美味,實則營養(yǎng)全無。leaf: v. 翻(書頁);antique: 古老的,年代久遠的;subsequent: 隨后的;saccharine: 甜味的,甜膩的;feast: 盛宴;empty calorie: 無營養(yǎng)食品,空卡。
9. smash: (用力)打破,打碎。
10. euphoric: 令人愉悅的。
11. 一開始,我每晚只能讀上幾頁,因為故事情節(jié)太緊湊,喚起我充滿欣喜與好奇的愁思,又讓我有種亦近亦遠的家族自豪感。provoke: 激起,引發(fā);ecstatic: 狂喜的,入迷的;melancholy: 憂郁;familial: 家庭(或家族)成員特有的;alien: 陌生的。
12. 最終,祖母帶著她滿滿的青春朝氣闖入我的生活,從她最后一次打開日記至今已過去一個世紀,而這股朝氣似乎從不曾消退過。adolescent: 青春期的;whooping: 高聲歡呼著的;vitality: 生氣,活力。
13. astringent: 收斂的;antiquated: 陳舊的,過時的。
14. preach: 竭力鼓吹;be laid up: 臥床不起的;mump: 腮腺炎;grippe: 流行性感冒。
15. flirt: 調情,打情罵俏。
16. peachy, dandy: 均意為“極好的”;be anointed with: 用……涂抹;Yelp: 美國著名商戶點評網(wǎng)站,創(chuàng)立于2004年,囊括各地餐館、購物中心、酒店、旅游等領域的商戶;bed-and-breakfast: ??s寫為B&B,是一種小型家庭旅館,只提供住宿和早餐。
17. 我?guī)缀醺簧纤富òV的節(jié)奏,也跟不上她變心的速度。crush: 迷戀;fluctuation: 起伏,波動。
18. stout: 胖的,粗壯的;cigarette-bummer: 游手好閑的煙鬼;no match for: 不敵,比不上。
19. alluring: 迷人的;rower: 槳手。
20. dippy: 狂熱迷戀的。
21. resent: 憤恨,不滿;scolding: 訓斥,責備。
22. 相比之下,我在日記里記下了自己遭遇的每件不平之事,這在某種程度上把它變成了一個“苦悶”菌株瘋長的培養(yǎng)皿。petri dish: 培養(yǎng)皿;potent: 強效的;strain: 菌株,菌系;bitterness: 不愉快,憤懣;injustice: 不公正。
23. chip: 無味的東西。
24. plain: (食物等)清淡的。
25. mouth off: 頂嘴。
26. 在我看來,祖母這種好性格主要得益于在她16歲時,“酷”還不是一種品質,甚至可以說,“青春期”還不算是一種屬性。due to: 應歸功于,應歸咎于;virtue: 美德。
27. 粗魯無禮也并非易事,如果你不是存心這樣做,又或者你正忙著吃冰淇淋,沒空惹別人生氣。surly: 脾氣暴躁的,無禮的。
28. objectively: 客觀地。
29. aftermath: (事件等結束后的)一個時期;unwitting: 不知不覺的,沒有意識到的;legacy: 遺產(chǎn),遺留之物。
30. porch: 門廊;pickle: 腌菜。
31. hand organ: 手風琴。
32. irresistible: 無法抗拒的,富有誘惑力的。
33. “Put Your Arms Around Me, Honey”: 《親愛的擁抱我吧》,歌曲出自1910年的一部百老匯三幕音樂劇Madame Sherry。
34. 根據(jù)文意,推測Harvey是讓祖母一見鐘情的人。