Another entry from my teenaged journal:
May 11, 1977
I can’t believe it. Joan Crawford is dead.
I was walking out of Typing this morning and Missy came up to me and said, “Did you hear about Joan Crawford?”
I thought Miss was going to be a total bitch about it, maybe make some snotty comment about Joan being old or that her death doesn’t matter because she wasn’t a member of Kiss, but she was actually kind of sweet about it. She offered to walk me to my next class, but I told her I was just going to go home.
When I got here I lit a candle and read the first three chapters of My Way of Life, which is Joan’s book about how to live graciously. Mom played “Autumn Leaves,” from the Joan movie of the same name, on the piano for me. She didn’t even complain about me coming home in the middle of the day when I told her why I was here.
I feel bad for Joan’s kids, Christina and Christopher. But Bette Davis must be screaming with joy today.
Thing I Hate Today: Anti-Immigration Reform propaganda