May 2, 1964, Saturday. Worst day of my life. Went to the Mountains!
Woke up at 7:00, Dad pulled me out of bed. He was going to make me go to the Mountains! We fought for two hours. He said if I didn’t go I couldn’t go out next week and couldn’t use my car. I cried all day. I had to call Jack to tell him to tell Dave not to come and get me for the Mardi Gras. When we got there I was a complete brat. I wouldn’t talk and if I did it was nasty. I wouldn’t leave the Cabin. Everyone was mad at me. I just kept crying. I wanted to go out with Dave so much, I’ll never forgive my parents as long as I live. The kid’s there were ugly clods. I went and bought Dave a Saint Christopher key chain. I got sick with a bad cold and was miserable all night. I made Mom as miserable as possible.
“Don’t you understand,” I said, “I had such a terrible experience when I went to Crestline with the Saffrons over Easter Week…. I never want to go back to the Mountains!”
When my Dad forced me to go I had a meltdown that progressed into a crying tantrum
because my spoiled brat didn’t get her own way.
Was I out of control, or just a normal teenager with plans of my own. My parents rarely said no to me, but when they did, I flipped out. Especially if it concerned a boy, my car, being able to go out and of course my Hairspray!