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“The Little Buick & Bitterness“
“10:15 P.M. Friday July 1st,
I had written on this for June 29th so had to erase it. What was here is copied on the proper page. Rain today and cool tonight; some stars are shining, crickets are singing and the world seems very peaceful. I am well enough, at least I still eat regularly, tho it does not seem to bother me whether I eat or not. If I win a point in a question or an argument in my own mind it does not bring contentment that I seek. I must always search for something more. I am never satisfied. I read Haeckel’s foolish chatting about all the infinitival things of life he has found and I only smile and think to what ends the mind of man will go to establish a belief such as their own. I read a little verse she sent me on my birthday and it brings tears to my eyes for it is far more precious to me than all science has done. Ilya toyed skuisya. 10:30 P.M.”
10:45 P.M. July 2nd,
Sat night again. I am staying with Pat and Ray tonight. We are planning to drive to Sherman tomorrow. What a pleasant trip it would seem and how I could look forward to it if only my little sweetheart were here to go. Tomorrow I can only go by and water her little roses and take a little bouquet. I want to make the trip tomorrow to give Cova and Bethine and Pat and Ray and Raymond a little pleasant trip. I seek no pleasure for myself, nor will it give me any, only to think it may make them all a little happier. It will only keep me busy, but that will be good for me. My day will have its greatest pleasure when I have cared for her little roses and been near the little plot; then my efforts all center on the thought that I can come again in a week. I wonder will my little dream face come tonight? Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:00 P.M.”
“11:40 P.M. July 3rd,
At home by myself this evening. Came on from Pott’s after we had eaten, Cova and Bethine stayed with them. Has been a very fine day for the trip to Sherman and I think they all enjoyed it. I am glad they did. So nice this morning to find her little roses looking fresh from the recent rains and the grass growing nicely. I wonder how soon I shall rest there too. So foolish to fear death it seems to me; my little sweetheart is there now and surely I cannot fear to follow her. I am so impatient. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:50 P.M.”
“9:55 P.M. July 4th & 5th,
This is written on the 5th, not late yet but I guess it is best for me to be in bed soon. Was sick on the way home last night; had to stop a few minutes at Grand Prairie; did not feel like writing last night nor do I feel like writing tonight. There seems to be nothing I can write that would help me or help anyone. I cannot get my thoughts collected sufficiently to find anything of value in them. My head aches a little more; any actions seem driving me crazy. I wonder why man ever developed the idea of his soul being given eternal life if the years spent on the earth have been of the good only? We are all alike; sin is only how we interpret our actions, none are sufficiently good to bring life beyond. I shall die very wicked. I could have been different, it is too late now. Ilya toyed skuisya. 10:15 P.M.”
“10:25 P.M. July 6th,
Summer’s heat and the endless routine of days that come and go; days that bring no purpose, no desire for life, and less hope for the soul. Just why they come I shall never know. I am useless, I am worthless, I am neither beast nor human. I dream of this, of that, but I do nothing. One more debt squared today; it seems they will never all disappear so I shall life long and suffer much. I am glad it is so; I should suffer much more, but I shall love her always. Ilya toyed skuisya. 10:35 P.M.”
“8:05 P.M. July 7th,
This is written the evening of the 8th. Twice this week I have neglected writing each evening. I am writing early tonight so I may prepare for bed soon and lay out under the stars for awhile. Went to sleep with them last night, was late when I came inside so I did not turn on the light and write any. Two days which have been extremely hot, to me at least. The heat is too much for me or else I am getting weak and old very fast. There is no spring in my steps anymore. I just move and that is about all and at that I’m not good for much distance. Pains down inside today which were bothersome at times; it may be my appendix or what not. I am not worried. If I must suffer, I must and only hope if I someday cannot go on longer, I may bear it as bravely as my little sweetheart did. Such heat! How her little roses will be needing water! Tomorrow is Saturday, the next day I can give them a drink. The heat bothers me a great deal, tho I seem to sleep without trouble. I want no vacation this year; I’d rather be at home. All that is left; the rest of the world holds not so much attraction. I do much as I wish; perhaps my wish may come true soon. Ilya toyed skuisya. 8:35 P.M.”
“10:50 P.M. July 9th,
Sat. nights seem to come so regularly. I always wonder when they will stop. Tomorrow will be hot; I shall try to start early to Fort Worth. Some days make me think I cannot make the trip. I seem so old and tired. I am just a misfit in life, useless and with no purpose sufficiently strong to give me the urge to keep on. I am already down and out. I should be dead and probably would be ere this if I was not such a coward. That is what I have made of myself; that is what I must endure. To her she gave me all her love and admiration tho I never deserved it. What others may feel for me now is only sympathy. I do not want it. It is not what man lives by. I only wish I was not so impatient. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:05 P.M.”
“10:30 P.M. July 10th,
Cloudy this morning and cool enough driving. I am glad it was so. I could spend all day with her little roses; nothing seems to give me peace like that. If I could only water them oftener. There seems to be so many things I would like to do and can’t. I want to see mother Dale but don’t know when I shall get to. I want to fly but don’t suppose I ever will. I want to die but life continues. I sleep most all the time it seems; the heat makes me so tired. I want my little sweetheart but know not how to bring her back again; I can’t go to her. I am utterly lost and already crazy I guess. I am such a baby. If I could only cry and not be so hard all the time. Nothing pacifies me. I could do so much for her. Ilya toyed skuisya. 10:45 P.M.”
“11:15 P.M. July 11th,
And yet I search for something to keep me busy. I am already crazy at times but if I could not keep busy I’m afraid of what might happen. So much of life gone and nothing accomplished. It is all a failure. I live in the days gone by. I want them back again. Today I’ve been checking costs on the hotel at Sherman and it has been so hard to do, almost a year ago now I was in Sherman and my little sweetheart spent a week with me there. So much happiness then and now it is all gone. Sometimes I am so bitter toward someone I could almost drive myself to commit murder. How awful I am and then it all comes back to my own responsibility and my failures. There seems nothing I can do now. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:30 P.M.”
(Written by me in 2013)
(When he spoke of being bitter it makes me wonder who he’s talking about. Possibly the doctor that was unable to save his wife’s life or the babies? Not sure. Poor man, my heart goes out to him.)
“11:05 P.M. July 12th,
Soon another day will be gone. I am only a day older. It has brought me nothing. I shall remember as being a bit better in life, but rather it seems worse. My heart is no softer; I am forever bitter and lonely. I work and keep busy with a vengeance and sleep only because I have to. Tomorrow I shall wake and find only that which I’ve had today, the heat, the sun and the endless ache in my heart; surely it will some day cease. I am indeed worthless. I am sorry it is so. Now I am painting the little Buick. It would please her to see the fruit of my labor but her pleasure will only be known through my eyes of “what might have been.” Her moon is shinning. I love it too. Perhaps she is a part now. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:20 P.M.”
(Written by me, today, November 17th, 2025)
After reading John’s entry, again, his words never stop teaching me, helping me. When he talks about being “bitter” it brought to mind my own struggles of bitterness when my husband was killed back in 2008. I remember perhaps a year after I started to turn very bitter; towards life, towards people, towards myself. I remember having a call with the daughter Cass and she could hear the bitterness in my voice and at the end of the conversation she told me, “Mom, I am here for you if you want to lay in a fetal position on the floor, or if you want to cry all day, or get angry at the world, but the bitterness you are showing is not good. It’s ugly and I can’t support you in it.” I was so mad at her when I got off the phone so I called her brother Bret and told him what she had said. And what I wasn’t expecting to hear him cautiously tell me that he agreed with her. It was at that moment I realized that a deep ugly bitterness had set in and was only destroying my forward path towards healing. It was that day I chose to leave bitterness behind me and it was that day I felt a weight (at least the weight of bitterness) come off my shoulder. Just part of my crazy journey. God bless my children who were also going through their own deep struggles loosing their father.
“11:05 P.M. July 13th,
Again I come to the evening hour when life seems such a burden; the hour when activity for the day must cease and I must go to bed. Even the strain of ceaseless effort does not bright that which I want, an end to the ever present battle of life. I cannot always be the visitor; I cannot always live as I wish no matter how strong I may think myself. We are all only very much alike; some seem to be favored with a greater understanding, but there is a weakness somewhere. So much we build about ourselves to bring out the good in us and time only proves how utterly we have failed. I am very much displeased with myself tonight. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:20 P.M.”
“11:10 P.M. July 14th,
A wonderful night to sleep and dream; it is raining and of course, cooler. The peaceful patter of the rain drops, how they bring beloved memories to mind and how they make my heartache for the loving comradeship of old; always our hopes and pleasures were mingled together. It was all for us, but now I find only the bitterness of my existence; always there comes the time when I fail myself even as I failed her and so life only brings the greater struggle. Of its reward I cannot foretell but only live as best I can. When one has something better we continue on our chosen course; when death holds our only hope we can only wait and grow impatient. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:25 P.M.”
“11:20 P.M. July 15th,
The moon is so bright tonight; it brings again sweet memories and a longing for the touch of loving hands which are so still and resting now. Could I but only have them back again. Could I but only join them in the long rest. Why, oh, why, must life be so? I do not wish for it to continue; what is there that I might give or do that I must live on? Always I am searching; always I must be busy and yet there seems nothing I can do. Tomorrow will be much as today if I can be a little better I shall be glad, if I am a little further from my aims I shall only have increased my burden. Ilya toyed skiusya. 11:30 P.M.”
“10:30 P.M. July 16th,
Sat. night. Very quiet and peaceful now tho rather warm. Tomorrow I shall be on my way to Greenwood early and I can care for the little roses and the grass so well because I have a section of garden hose in the back of the little Buick. I can give them such a good drink now. Tomorrow Cova and Bethine’s friends from Wichita will be here for the day; they are so anxious to see them. I am glad for them. I hope I can help make their visit a pleasure; I’ll try to get back from Ft. Worth as soon as I can. “Ilya toyed skuisya”. How much that little secret held for her; its message used to be quite true. I think all during the days in France. But how true it is today; if I can only always keep it so. I can try. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:05 P.M.”
“10:15 P.M. July 17th & 18th,
Again I have been negligent. It is now Monday evening. Last night I should have written. Our little roses were given a good drink yesterday morning and the grass too. I wish I could give them water every day. It is so hot now and they will need it often. Another rose was in bloom for her yesterday; so pretty it seemed and such a frail little flower. It beauty cannot last many days but perhaps it will bloom again some day when the bush has grown and becomes studier. I was so tired last night; slept in the yard until nearly 2:00. Came inside when cooler but I seemed so tired I could write nothing then. I can write nothing tonight that might lighten my heart. It is always so bitter and sinful; nothing good in me ever seems to come forth any more. I do not like the heat. I do not like to live; I am too cowardly to close the book of life myself. I always hope there may yet be something good for me to do that may bring me close to her but I guess it is too late now. I am just as I have made myself. I seem unable to change. Ilya toyed skuisya. 10:30 P.M.”
“1:30 A.M. July 19th,
Have been sleeping on the grass since about ten; the coolness of the night has now come. It is such a relief from the heat of the day. It is now so quiet and peaceful and the world seems all asleep. I wake and find that I am still a part of existing things and the ache in my heart seems multiplied a thousand times over again; all the long remaining days to come will be so hard to live without some tender love and kindness from her; they cannot be as I would want them. I shall not be worth much to her when life ends. I guess I never was. Ilya toyed skuisya. 1:50 A.M.”
“10:30 P.M. July 20th,
Again I must write two days in one; so tried last night. I seem to feel better tonight but the heat is still very bothersome. I shall go out and sleep with the stars when I have finished writing. They are very bright and twinkling tonight; I watched them a few moments ago and I wished that I might know more about them. Someday I would like to see how near to them I could go. Perhaps I never will. The greatest triumphs of man are not in doing certain things but in his efforts to do those things. I would like to be close to the stars. If I ever try to be closer I shall not start with the thought in mind that I shall reach them. I can only say I will go as near as I can. Lindy (Charles Lindbergh) started for Paris but could not be sure of his success. His great triumph was in keeping steadily on and not changing his efforts. We can all only do the best that is in us; if that is not sufficient to gratify our desires then we must improve. Life is seldom content, the best of tomorrow comes through the efforts of today. When we stop the efforts or the search to find a greater understanding of life and take it for the zenith of perfection we then grow stale and go backward and perish for future peoples to take up the burden. Ilya toyed skuisya. 10:50 P.M.”
(Written by me back in 2013)
Oh my goodness, his wisdom just amazes me sometimes. I believe going through this grief has made him reflect so much more on himself and his beliefs. To say, “The best of tomorrow comes through the efforts of today” is so profound. I even went to look up that saying and couldn’t find it. John, you are such a wise, wise man. And finally I want to add that I can envision John out on his lawn, by himself, sleeping under the stars. Oh how I wish I could lay there and talk to him.
“10:45 P.M. July 22nd,
No visit with the stars tonight; it is raining. Such a peaceful night to sleep with her by my side; such joy it might bring to my heart to comfort her from the flash of lightening and the thunder claps. It does not seem to me she is gone and yet I do not know where to find her. I cannot start on the long, long trail which brings me to her again. Have I lost her dear soul forever? Am I so bad I can never be near her again? Questions I cannot answer. A thousand trails I shall travel, a thousand seas I might sail, always searching for what I have lost; always hopeful yet wholly ignorant of the fruit of my quest. Man teaches much but only that of his own convictions; each must find his own way. I want to do something for humanity. I can do nothing for myself…but my trail, though life has no marker for future man to follow. We must find our own way. I am thankful for the rain; how it will freshen her roses. Tomorrow I shall be feeling badly. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:05 P.M.”
(Written by me in 2013 and now in 2025: JOHN YOU ARE AMAZING)
“11:15 P.M. July 23rd,
Each Sat night brings only the close of another week: I am seven days older. Tomorrow I shall be at Greenwood again. I wonder why I can’t stay there forever? I want to. Some day I shall; it cannot come too soon for where my little sweetheart is there I belong. I am not a part of life. I am nothing without her. Last night I was glad it rained, tonight the rain seems to have been worthless because it did not rain in Ft. Worth. I am so full of bitterness tonight; it is a sin that my presence must be endured. I should not be permitted to live, yet I am too cowardly to seal my own doom. She would not want me to do that so I cannot. I am losing my power of reasoning slowly but surely. I hope it does not completely go first. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:30 P.M.”
“11:50 P.M. July 24th,
Soon it will be Monday morning; to work again. We were at Pat and Ray’s today. Her little roses will be so refreshed tonight. I watered them well today. The grass is growing so nicely and the roses are all still living, tho it is hard for them to grow very much these hot days. I hope the heat will not be so bad this week. So much religion and so little of the good in man today. Man has made his own laws for society yet he seldom obeys them. We know what is necessary to give us the best in life but we are constantly doing much against our own convictions of right and wrong; where then comes our reward? None seem to cling tenaciously to all their convictions; we must all have some hope. It is a sin to me to think that my belief is the only right one; I have no proof that it is either right or wrong. I can only wait. I seem very nervous today. I am sleepy. Ilya toyed skuisya. 12:10 P.M.”
“10:15 P.M. July 25th,
Tired and sleepy tonight; but that is only why we rest. I took a nap soon after eating; when I wake I feel only more greatly fatigued. I sit and wonder; seldom do I find an answer to my doubts in my mind that bring satisfaction to me; I am never convinced; I am never content; I am always searching. The greatest reward life might give would not bring me happiness. I no longer seek it. I want to find some way to insure a home among the stars. I wish I were up among them tonight. I wonder when man first undertook to distinguish the good from the bad in him? Only when some law of nature was broken and it took its toll perhaps. Ilya toyed skuisya. 10:30 P.M.”
“9:55 P.M. July 26th,
It is not yet late but I will soon be in bed; I hope I may sleep. I seem so restless of late; it is not the heat because the nights are cool and very pleasant to rest. Oh! What a joy to my heart it would be if in the morning I might wake and find her by my side; dear little eyes still dozing; dear little heart still beating for me. That was yesterday, today I am alone. All I have left today is hope; I can do nothing now. My efforts are so futile. Each day I grow more evil; each day I hold more vengeance in my heart and have nothing on which to relieve it. I am the fruit of my own thoughts. I am very bad and sorry it is so. Ilya toyed skuisya. 10:05 P.M.”
”10:50 P.M. July 27th,
Soon I shall be asleep. I can only rest until morning and then life will resume its battle. How slow time goes or how hard it is for me to keep the moments all golden; some are so bad. Eight months ago today all the burden of life was given unto me alone. No precious little pal to urge me to another effort now; no loving mate to praise the good deeds, the noble efforts of old. I hardly know the good from the bad now, they all seem bad, they all seem futile. I am so lonely; I do not see how I live at all. I am so impatient and unworthy. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:00 P.M.”
(Written by me in 2013)
My heart continually goes out to John. Here it is almost 5 years since my husband’s death in 2008 and my loneliness is one of the biggest things I struggle with. When I read John’s words I say to myself, “I know exactly what you felt like.” I may not be as distraught as I was in the beginning but loosing your mate makes a difficult lonely life. But I can finally say, I can now smile and laugh and I press on.
“11:00 P.M. July 28th,
So little of life I understand or can in anyway interpret its meaning. Just gazing at her picture which I always have with me; there is my spot, standing beside her. No more can I give the little kiss which was so greatly cherished, no more can I hold her in my arms and hear her loving words meant only for me. All is gone. Why? I do not know. I must be an awful sinner to deserve such punishment as I must endure. I guess I am. I could not think less of myself. I fear that I can never be better so I cannot fear death. What has been done cannot be changed now. I can only try to keep busy; some day perhaps I may rest. I am so cross and grouchy. I just can’t be cheerful. I am no good. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:15 P.M.”
“10:55 P.M. July 29th,
I sometimes wonder just when my mind will pass to the stage beyond reasoning. It cannot always remain as strong as it now is; I cannot always endure the constant strain without weakening somewhere. I try to keep busy at home as well as at the office; in work I gain some relief; in deep thought of some continuance which perhaps means nothing, I am able to bide the time; that is my greatest enemy, time, will it never cease? Than why can’t I go yet? Surely I have suffered enough. I fear I can never be much better and hope that I will not be worse. I am so cross. I want to be alone always. I cannot have her anymore. Ilya toyed skuisya. 11:05 P.M.”
(Written by me in 2013)
A dear friend of mine found out about a month ago that she has lung cancer. They told her she doesn’t have long to live and as of today it has spread to the other organs in her body. She’s been married to the same man for close to 40 years. They also lost their two sons; one to suicide. She has this incredible peace about her and the only explanation that makes any sense to me is that it’s coming from God. Her poor precious husband too, taking care of her, watching all of this. How crazy is it too when I go and visit her we talk a great deal about my own loss; my husband. And here is this amazing woman comforting me in my sorrow as she herself is dying. It has to be a God thing, nothing else makes any sense.
“10:40 P.M. July 30th,
Time goes steadily on. I am still here to record it. It will continue long after any resemblance of my being remains. Some day I shall wake to find the daylight breaking; then I can rest beside her always. Generations will come and go and the memory of our efforts will fade into the mists of time. We seldom leave a lesson or an achievement that brings respect and admiration of future generation to come. Christ has come down to us thru the centuries because we have need of His teachings but as the years go on we slip farther and farther into mire of modern sects. We are afraid to be truthful and give only the best that is in us. I am glad tomorrow is Sunday again. Ilya toyed skuisya. 10:50 P.M.”
(Written by me today, November 17th, 2025)
This one entry is so amazing to me that it stands on its own. He talks about his record (journal entries) continuing “long after any resemblance of my being remains” and here I am blogging from his diary 98 years later. This man is a genius and I’ve said it before but how I wish I could have met him. Guess this is the next best thing.
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