December 30th, 1978

The recurring problem with my visits home is the pressure I feel exerted on me by members of the family to see them. I feel as if it would take a full week of just visiting to satisfy the imposed obligations. My grandmother is the worst. Saturday morning and I feel guilty because I did not get up early enough to keep Mom’s car and go visit. I had told her I might be over this morning.

—-

I just called her on the telephone. I invent these pressures. She does want to see me before I return to Washington– but the guilt I conjured was entirely of my own creation.

Horrible weather. Yesterday was a dismal day; nearly an inch of rain fall as I sat in the dark trailer watching my poor mother sleep on the sofa trying to recuperate from a wild drunken night. I was supposed to go out Thursday night– hoping to see that beautiful man again, terrified that I would. My mother got totally drunk during the course of the day and by late night as I was about to leave, she was irrational and obnoxious. Since we were out of beer here I drove her to the liquor store before I left. On the way she started raving about the shackles and confines of her life. She anted me to drop her off at her joint on the highway. She said she had friends and they would see her home. Meanwhile, she had left Don at home asleep. I refused to drop her off at some bar on the highway and keep her car. I insisted on coming home and letting her keep her own far, if she wanted it. It really pissed me off that:

A) Even drunk, she could allow behavior so surely to mar my visit.

B) That she could so thoughtlessly ruin my plans for the evening.

C) That she could pointedly force an argument with Don while I am here.

Well, she did go out. I refused to stay and witness the drunken drama I had sat through for eighteen years. I called R.D. (Jackie’s husband) to come and get me and I spent the night there. Don, of course, was furious, and left in a huff the next morning. He returned last night, thankfully– But Mom had one full day to wonder if he had left her. All seems to be forgiven now.

My mother of sorrows.