I just read Jessica's journal and it made me quite sad so I thought I'd write in here.

Yesterday I went to my grandma Coyote's house with my sister and then my dad and mom met us there cause the air conditioning guy needed to come and give us an estimate.

While we were waiting my grandma called me and I followed her into her room (which I've never been in). Her room is still decorated like it was back in the 50's and I think her mattress must be from the '30's cause I put my hand on it and it was like a rock. Anyway, she dug her old Notre Dame yearbook out of this cedar hope chest she's had since she got married or maybe before that. I was looking through it.. very strange. All the girls had bobs and stuff and everything was so formal. Even the comments people wrote in the back were things like "I had a most wonderful year, Leanore." and then they'd sign their name. Then that made me think.."WOuld I want my grand kids someday to read the comments in my yearbooks?" Probably not.

Anyway, thats not the reason I wanted to write in here. My dad came a little after we got the yearbook out and then he went into the hallway and stood outside the door to my grandpa's den. Last time I looked in the den it freaked me out cause everything was the same as it was before he died. I opened the closet and there were guns and I found his old Greyhound uniform and a bunch of bullets in various drawers so I felt like he was still in the room. Needless to say I left and I told my dad I wanted to go back in there with him cause he's not afraid of the room and he said that grandpa wouldn't have been mad at me for going in there but oh well. So I went back into the room and showed dad the things that creeped me out last time and I learned the 3 of the guns were his so that wasn't as bad as I first though. Then I opened the 3rd drawer in his desk and found 2 pictures, one of a man and then one of a woman who were my great grandparents. The picture of my great grandpa made me cry for some reason. My dad refers to him as "The Bastard" because he left my grandpa and all his siblings and mothers to fend for themselves because he didn't want the responsibility. I suppose I should hate him too but I never knew him so who's to say he didn't have a good reason for leaving? Anyway, my great grandpa was so handsome and my great grandma was so pretty. FOr some reason thinking that I could be their decendant made me cry even harder. My great grandpa looked like the typical scottish man--high jaw, dark eyes, long skinny face. He looked tough like if you messed with him he'd beat your ass in. Theres a scene in Titanic where they're below decks with all the 3rd class people that are having a party. Thats sorta what I imagine my great grandpa doing. Wow..I've gone on about him for a while. Sorry bout that.

Jeeze...dead people fascinate me. That sounds so weird and disgusting but they really do. I want to figure out what life was like for them. How they acted and talked in public. How they wrote even just casual letters. Why they did everything they did. I also found a picture of great great grandma named Julianne Scully. It was a profile picture but it looked like she was also pretty beautiful.

I better get going.

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