By: Jean G
Hawaii, Grade: 8

January 1, 1930

Dear Journal,

A new year is supposed to mean new hope, right? In the past it used to. Now my heart feels as bleak as the Oklahoma landscape I call home.
For some reason the land has dried up. Dad won't be able to grow crops, so we'll be lucky if we survive without the income for the crops.
The dust caused John to have another attack of the wheezes, so I had to take care of him besides my usual chores.
Frankly, I don't see a reason to do many of these chores. When I sweep, dust settles in seconds. When I bite down, I taste dust. When I move, dirt collected by my dress scratches me.
Well, all I'm doing is complaining, but one good thing did happen to me today. For months now, I have written about my affections for Isaac Smith. Today, during the community New Year's Celebration, he kissed me. Shh! Mom and Dad must not know. They wouldn't approve, I only just turned 13 after all.

I'll write soon,
Kathy