Categories > Cartoons > Daria > 1960's Daria
1960s—Chapter 03
By Dr T
A ‘Daria’ fanfic, so no claim to original characters, etc. claimed, just my plot twists. Based on an image from the last ‘Daria’ episode/movie, ‘Is It College Yet?’
-60s-
October 28
Dear Aunt Amy:
Jane and I found our midterm grades in our mailbox when we came back to the dorm after our 1:00 classes. I went over to the library and photocopied them, one for Dad (and Mother) and the other is enclosed. I am pretty sure I can raise the Health and Geology scores without sacrificing any of my other grades, but I am not so certain about the Political Science class. Jane isn’t doing quite as well as I am, but she still has a 3.4 average. She is just too bored by the Geology class to put much effort into the memorization required. I think we’re rather lucky in our instructor; you may know that the idea of ‘continental drift’ is becoming more likely. Our instructor, unlike the other two geology professors, believes in at least discussing it and why, if accurate, it would solve more questions than it would raise. If I can believe what a few of the science majors’ claim, one of the other professors would still be teaching the deluge if he could get away with it.
I do wish I could visit you over Thanksgiving. Mother has not mentioned if we are expected to make the journey to Grandmother’s for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. I asked her in the note I am sending with my midterms if I am expected anywhere over the holidays. Even if I can’t make it to you, maybe I can stay with Jane a few days.
There isn’t much else to say this week. No, we are not celebrating our midterm grades with another bottle of wine, but if we do split another we will be certain to take your advice and drink at least an equal amount of water. Even a mild hangover was a learning experience. I may have to get Jane to drink some water when she returns tonight from a frat party she’s attending with some of the other art majors. I’m sure she’ll have had a beer at the least – I think the only places around here that pay attention to the legal drinking age are the stores, the bars, and RAs (but only if you mess up in some other way).
Take care
Love
Daria
-60s-
Daria’s Midterms
Health, 2, A-
Violin, 1, A
English Lit I, A
American Lit I, A
Intro Geology, 3, A-
History of England, A
US Constitution, 3, A-
Orchestra, 0, P
Average 3.867
-60s-
November 1
Dear Daria:
I am uncertain as to why you would need to know about any holiday plans I and your father may have, as you shall of course accompany us. In any event we shall, as usual, be at Mother’s for Christmas, although the exact dates are not yet determined. As Christmas falls upon a Sunday, it is not yet certain when your father will have time off. We will likely be at home for Thanksgiving, and of course be in town for your father’s station’s New Year’s Eve celebration.
Thank you for the copy of your satisfactory midterm grades.
Mother
(written on the back)
Daria: Very well done!
Love
Dad
-60s-
Jane snorted as she read the letter from Daria’s mother. It was as cold a response as she had expected. “Hey, do you go to this office party of your father’s?”
“Oh, no – Mother always has to drive him home, and they usually get in between two and three. They came in at two-twenty last year, and Quinn just beat them back by ten minutes. She had just managed to change and jump into bed when they checked on us.”
“There’s plenty of room at my place; shall I ask if you can stay over New Year’s, and you can come back with us that next Sunday?”
Daria thought about that for a brief moment, and then quickly agreed.
-60s-
November 8
Dear Daria:
I am heartened to understand you are close friends with your roommate – I was also fortunate in that regards (unlike either of your aunts during their first years) – and that you have also mentioned others you are friends (or at least friendly) with. I had hoped you would be more sociable in such an environment, which is why I agreed with your attending a larger school. As you will be with us at your Grandmother’s over Christmas, and since Miss Lane’s family lives between us and the school, you have our permission to stay with the Lanes over New Years.
Mother
As Helen looked over her letter before sealing it, she had several thoughts about it. One was she was indeed ‘heartened’ that her antisocial daughter was finally opening up a bit more. Daria had been friendly with a number of girls in school, but not really friends with any. Mr. Lane had a good reputation in and around the wider area as well as within his community (she had of course made inquiries, and had learned he was seen as an excellent wedding and society photographer).
Now, if only she could get her daughter into being a bit more fashionable, or perhaps at least get nicer glasses….
-60s-
November 10
The roommates were studying that evening, when Jane piped up, “Hey, Daria…?
“H’mm?”
“Are you going to go tomorrow?”
That made Daria look up in confusion. “Go where?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Tomorrow’s Veteran’s Day.”
“Correct.”
“So there’s going to be a protest rally at eleven.” Seeing the still somewhat blank look, Jane amplified, “You know, against the war? In Viet Nam? I understand it, and the protests, have even made the news.”
“Very drool, Jane” Daria retorted. “No, I shall not be skipping class tomorrow. As you do not have class at eleven, are you going?”
“Of course!”
“Why ‘of course’?” An idea occurred to her. “Is Trent still in danger of being drafted?”
“No,” Jane admitted. “He was rejected. If he doesn’t have at least five cups of coffee and a pack of cigarettes a day, he can barely function. He stopped both for three days before his physical, and he was of no interest to them. Still, don’t you think it’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Daria replied honestly.
“How can you listen to all those folk singers, most of whom have at least one anti-war song, and be this undecided?”
“I listen to Wagner, that doesn’t make me lean towards the Nazis” Daria pointed out. “I listen to Viennese waltzes, and that doesn’t make me a monarchist.”
“Okay, I guess I understand, but it’s more than that.” Jane became insistent. “This is about now!”
“It might be,” Daria agreed. “Does the way we’re going about things over there seem to be ending the war? No, but maybe we’re not seeing the whole picture. If not, I don’t know if it’s better if we cut things down or increase our involvement. So, should I be attending these sorts of rallies? I don’t know, maybe I’d learn something. Or, maybe not.” Daria shrugged. “I do know that the jocks and frat boys will likely be there to counter-protest, and things might go the way protests have at other places.” A few had escalated into more than confrontations.
Jane thought about that. “You may have a point,” she admitted.
“So, I have English Lit at eleven; you don’t have class. Let me know what you think, if you go.”
“Fair enough.” Jane thought a moment. “Maybe you need to bring your guitar back after Thanksgiving.”
Daria shrugged, but smiled slightly. “You’re the one who’ll have to put up with my playing.”
-60s-
The next day, Daria walked past the open area surrounded by the admin building, the education building, the large old theater, the building holding the language departments and a number classrooms, and the huge old women’s dorm. The old dorm was having its interior gutted to make way for more offices and classrooms, as well as an extension to the library. That large open area also held the flagpole, and that’s where the rally was located.
Some male student with a bull horn was trying to harangue the crowd from the far side of where Daria was walking. However, between the jeers from the jocks and most of the frat boys on one side of the crowd and the general crowd noise (plus those shouting back at the counter-protesters), Daria really couldn’t make sense of the speech. She therefore continued to skirt the crowd and head towards the student union, which held, along with the bookstore and some student services on the ground floor, the cafeteria on the second floor.
Daria was about three-quarters of the way there, when she heard Jane call her name. She therefore waited for Jane to catch up before the pair went on for lunch.
“So, were you able to get much out of the protest?” Daria asked.
“Not a lot,” Jane admitted. “The protesters made a mistake when they started before eleven and refused to observe the two-minute silence. That caused a lot of shouting at them from the start.”
Daria nodded, unsurprised at either development.
“I don’t think this sort of thing is going to go completely away,” Jane pointed out.
“You’re likely right,” Daria had to agree.
-60s-
That same afternoon, Daria and Jane were a bit surprised to hear a knock on their door a little after 3:00. Opening it, they saw three upper-class students they didn’t recognize.
“Daria and Jane? Hi, I’m Dora Johnson; this is Carol Bearse and Amy Puttman. I’m a co-editor of both the LSC Literary Journal and the Poetry Journal, Carol is an assistant editor, and Amy is the features editor of the LSC Weekly.” That was the student-run newspaper. “Can we go to one of the study rooms and talk?”
Naturally, the two agreed, and all five agreed to talk as a group.
“Okay, we have some bad news, but more good news. I’ll start with the bad.” Dora took a breath and said to Daria, “We liked both of your short stories, especially the medieval one, but there is really no room in the next issue. We’d be happy to consider them for the spring, but no guarantees.” Seeing Daria’s face fall, she hurried on. “You submitted the maximum seven poems. As you may know, the Poetry Journal is usually divided into three sections, for traditional poetry, modern, and experimental. We are accepting one traditional poem, two modern, and one as experimental.” That cheered Daria up a bit, although she was unhappy three were rejected.
“Also, we bring on Freshmen in the spring semester to learn how to become editors, and we’ve gotten faculty approval to offer you one of the three positions.” Seeing that cheered Daria up a bit more, Dora went on, “Since you’ll have poems in three sections, you’ll get four copies instead of the usual two. You can also buy copies for a quarter rather than the usual fifty cents, but you’ll need to send in the order by next Friday.” She handed Daria an order form, a contract, and a list of editorial duties.
While Daria looked those over, Carol and Amy turned to Jane. “We liked your sample cartoons on student life,” Amy told her. “We’d like to use these three over the next few issues. Send more. Please!” She handed Jane the information she had to fill out.
“Amy showed me your stuff,” Carol picked up the thread. “I like that sketch you did of Daria at the typewriter. We’d like to use it as a page filler in the Literary Journal. Two free copies and of course, credit.” She also handed Jane a contract.
Obviously, both teens were happy to sign.
-60s-
“So, you’re obviously not as happy about this as I am,” Jane stated half an hour later.
Daria just made a face.
“Come on, Daria; talk to me.”
Daria sighed. “I know, even if I were the greatest writer ever and all my work were gems of perfection – and believe me, I know neither is true – not everyone would like what I wrote, and that wouldn’t mean they were idiots or what I wrote wasn’t good.” She sighed. “I also know I sort of succeeded more than I failed if the editorial thing is included, but I really liked that one short story.”
“So, look at it again in a few weeks and see if you think it can be improved – not changed, but improved. If not, submit it again or submit it someplace else.”
Daria slumped, but then sat up, and then smiled.
“Thought of something?”
“The story is good, but it’s just a scene. It needs to be part of a novel.”
Jane chuckled slightly and mostly silently before saying, “Well, that’s a change!”
Daria smiled at her friend. “How about you?”
“Hey, a cartoon and an illustration, that’s okay for a first semester Freshman. And remember, the illustration is of you.”
“True,” Daria admitted. “But while someone who really knows me might recognize me, you can’t really see my face that clearly. I have a blouse and a skirt on, and even socks.” She shrugged. Jane had teasingly asked to sketch Daria nude more than once, which had been very firmly rejected each time.
They turned when there was another knock on the door. Jane opened it to see three of their fellow Freshman floormates. “Hi!” the high-pitched voice of Brittany, an elementary ed major greeted them. “We’re going to catch the early showing of that musical.” She frowned in thought as she tried to remember the full title.
“‘A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum’? Really?” Daria asked, surprised these three, not the smartest co-eds on the floor, would be interested in a musical based on the Roman comedies of Plautus.
“We like musicals!” Jennifer stated.
“I really like Annette and Frankie beach musicals,” Brittany added. “Do you think this will be like those?”
“I doubt it, but this did have a good run on Broadway, and I think in London as well,” Daria told them. She looked at Jane. “I’m willing if you are.”
“Let’s go!”
“We can get something to eat afterwards, if we don’t fill up on popcorn,” Scarlett said as Jane handed Daria her coat.
-60s-
“I liked the lead,” Brittany said as the group waited for their pizza after the movie. “He was kinda cute. What was his name?”
“Michael Crawford,” Daria.
“I suppose you liked the Zero Mostel character best,” Jane teased.
“Of the characters, yes, but he was otherwise a bit too slimy for my tastes,” Daria retorted.
“Daria, you know a lot about history; was that accurate?” Brittany asked.
“The movie? Sort of, but not really,” Daria replied. “The basic plots were cobbled together from real Roman plays that parodied life, then there’s the layers of putting those together for a modern audience and setting the play about four hundred years after the time the plays were written.” Seeing the slight confusion on the others’ faces, Daria added, “So while it was over the top, there some truth to it.”
“Those poor girls, even if they got a happy ending in the movie,” Brittany said sadly.
The other four, knowing the pretty and buxom Brittany was often considered as much a sex object as the slave girls in the movie, quickly distracted her attention.
-60s-
November 23
“Thank you for the ride home, Missus Morgendorffer,” Jane said as she exited the Cadillac, a full laundry bag in hand.
“You are very welcome. It was nice to see you again,” Helen stated with a small smile.
Once Jane had shut the door, she turned towards the family house and managed not to shake her head, just in case Daria’s mother was looking at a rearview mirror. ‘That poor kid,’ she thought, ‘stuck with that woman and her sister until Sunday.’
“I must say, your roommate seems more pleasant than my first impression,” Helen stated. Daria merely nodded.
“Is there anything you need to tell me?” Helen asked.
Daria, knowing her mother liked to concentrate on her driving, even on boring drives, responded, “Not really. There are some minor things I need to tell you and Dad about, so I should tell you both together. Thank you again for giving Jane a ride.”
“That was not a problem. You said that the current plan was for her to pick you up next month?”
“Yes, well, probably her older brother will drive.”
“That’s very nice of him. Anything else?”
“Well, it has been almost a year since my last eye examination. I doubt we could get an appointment for Friday, but perhaps before we go to Grandmother’s or before I go to Jane’s?”
“Well, we will be back around Four; I’ll give them a call just in case they have an opening.”
-60s-
“Well, Daria, what did you have to tell us?”
“I think I’ll wait for Quinn to share her day, that way she won’t interrupt me.”
“Nonsense,” Helen stated firmly.
Daria managed not to audibly sigh. “Very well, as I wrote, classes are going very well. There some other things I was waiting to tell you. Most importantly, I will have four poems….”
“Oh, we read some interesting poetry in class today. Mister O’Neill congratulated me on my reading voice,” Quinn interrupted. “Sandi is recovering nicely from her sprained ankle; you know, the one she got falling off the pyramid in the last game. It’s still wrapped up….”
“Excuse me.”
“Daria, it is NOT polite to interrupt your sister.”
“Excuse ME, but she interrupted ME, after you told me to go first, even after I said she would interrupt me, which you denied.”
“Don’t you correct me, young lady!”
Jake, seeing his younger daughter smirk, quickly recalled exactly what he had been paying attention to before his attention had wandered.
“Helen!” he almost snapped. This startled the three women; Jake rarely intervened. Helen largely ruled the household while he went his own way – most of the time. Those few times he actually spoke up, Helen had to listen and only then decide if she should continue the fight.
“Quinn, you deliberately baited your sister and set her up. That’s fifty cents off of this week’s allowance.”
“Fifty cents! Right before the sales start Friday! How can I hold my head up with the Fashion Club?” $10 was a great allowance for most in 1966, but not as much as a few of her acquaintances. A $.50 penalty was a decent chunk.
“Fine, a dollar off, and your Mother will NOT be making it up. Say anything else, and you won’t be shopping this Friday or Saturday.”
Quinn opened her mouth, but then closed it and pouted.
“Pouting has not worked on either of us for several years,” Helen pointed out. Rather than directly admit an error, she turned to Daria. “You were saying, before your sister…distracted us?”
Daria managed again not to sigh. Still, even if her father rarely intervened, it was usually in her favor, as he had tonight. “The College Literary Club publishes a literary journal and a poetry one. They are publishing four of my poems in the fall issue, and I’ve been invited to become one of the three Freshmen editors next semester.”
“That’s great Daria!” her father enthused. Her mother nodded in genuine agreement (as she viewed those activities as socially acceptable), while her sister wrinkled her nose at the idea of doing any sort of intellectual work.
“I don’t know if you remember Marcie Brown; she played cello in the Youth Orchestra. She’s a music major at State, specializing in voice. Music majors give individual performances Thursday afternoons at three thirty. She’s going to perform two songs on next Thursday, and I’ll be accompanying her. And,” she went on, “to my surprise, I was asked to perform a piece then as well – not many non-music majors are asked. I’ll be playing a version of Offenbach’s ‘Barcarolle’ and Marcie will be accompanying me.”
“Very nice,” Helen stated before her husband could. “If there is a printed program, I hope you can send us a few.” She would send it to her snooty older sister and snootier mother – no doubt Daria would send one to her bratty younger sister Amy so she wouldn’t have to.
“The next day, the college orchestra is making a two day ‘tour’ to local schools. They will actually be playing here at the High School Saturday evening.”
“I don’t have anything on the third,” Jake told his wife. “Do we?”
Helen thought. “The evening of Saturday the third? Actually, no. I have a meeting that afternoon, but there’s nothing we or I have committed to that evening.” While not enthusiastic about the idea of the concert (since it wouldn’t be a stylish society affair), Helen was willing to support it, especially with the chance her daughter might choose a nicer set of frames at her eye exam if they were getting along better than usual.
“I’m sure I’ll have a date that night,” Quinn immediately interjected, and with a rather nasty intonation.
“Quinn!” Helen scolded. Quinn’s chances of her mother’s ignoring her father’s restriction on her allowance being plumped back to the full $10 plummeted from ‘unlikely’ to ‘no chance’ with that tone.
“Check with whoever you decide is taking you out that night; they might want to provide you a classier date than the backseat of their Rambler.”
Quinn made the mistake of a quick response, “Like anyone I date would drive a Rambler! The backseats I get into….” Realizing what she had basically admitted to, and seeing the looks dawning on both her parents’ faces, Quinn quickly said, “I mean…may I be excused, I don’t think I want dessert tonight.”
“You are excused,” Jake said coldly, to which Helen nodded agreement.
“Shall I get dessert?” Daria asked, making certain her voice held no note of triumph.
“There’s peach pie in the refrigerator,” Helen stated. Watching her daughter closely, Helen went on, “I must say I’m impressed, Daria. Some girls either overeat or undereat from stress their first semester, and so change weight either because they are more or less active.”
“I know I am a bit more active – there’s a lot more walking, especially up and down hills,” Daria stated, before admitting, “I’m probably only eat about the same at meals as I used to, but a few more snacks. I guess it’s balancing out.”
Helen nodded, and reminded herself to confirm the dentist appointment for her daughter over the spring break.
Jake broke the silence after they finished dessert. “Daria, do you think your sister…is she really…?”
“Are some of her dates to some degree ‘make out’ dates, at least some ending in the backseat? Including many if not most of her so-called ‘study dates’? Yes, and they have since you allowed her to go on them the summer before she entered ninth grade. Do those go as far as what is sometimes called ‘third base’ or even a ‘home run’? She certainly hadn’t gone that far before this school year, and I doubt if she has since. She rarely goes on dates that could get that far; one of the Fashion Club or another cheerleader is likely still with her, double dating. She wouldn’t even go to ‘second base’ until at least the fifth or sixth solo date, and not many guys would put up with the expensive dinner dates she demands well before things get to that point.” Daria shrugged and looked at her mother. “Why? Does she seem at all changed to you this fall?”
“No,” Helen admitted.
“And remember, that one girl got pregnant in the class between ours two years ago – that shocked a number of girls. I might make fun of Quinn’s intelligence, but she’s more than smart enough to avoid that happening willingly.”
Quinn, listening, was not surprised that Daria had partially sold her out; but despite not being happy about it, she knew her sister could have made it look much worse. She also had to acknowledge that this was partially her fault – her timing had been off when she interrupted Daria as she always used to do – she was out of practice, and she had foolishly responded to Daria’s jibe without thinking rather than somehow turning the exchange to her advantage.
-60s-
Michael Crawford would of course earn fame in the 1980s in the lead role in the musical ‘Phantom of the Opera.’
By Dr T
A ‘Daria’ fanfic, so no claim to original characters, etc. claimed, just my plot twists. Based on an image from the last ‘Daria’ episode/movie, ‘Is It College Yet?’
-60s-
October 28
Dear Aunt Amy:
Jane and I found our midterm grades in our mailbox when we came back to the dorm after our 1:00 classes. I went over to the library and photocopied them, one for Dad (and Mother) and the other is enclosed. I am pretty sure I can raise the Health and Geology scores without sacrificing any of my other grades, but I am not so certain about the Political Science class. Jane isn’t doing quite as well as I am, but she still has a 3.4 average. She is just too bored by the Geology class to put much effort into the memorization required. I think we’re rather lucky in our instructor; you may know that the idea of ‘continental drift’ is becoming more likely. Our instructor, unlike the other two geology professors, believes in at least discussing it and why, if accurate, it would solve more questions than it would raise. If I can believe what a few of the science majors’ claim, one of the other professors would still be teaching the deluge if he could get away with it.
I do wish I could visit you over Thanksgiving. Mother has not mentioned if we are expected to make the journey to Grandmother’s for either Thanksgiving or Christmas. I asked her in the note I am sending with my midterms if I am expected anywhere over the holidays. Even if I can’t make it to you, maybe I can stay with Jane a few days.
There isn’t much else to say this week. No, we are not celebrating our midterm grades with another bottle of wine, but if we do split another we will be certain to take your advice and drink at least an equal amount of water. Even a mild hangover was a learning experience. I may have to get Jane to drink some water when she returns tonight from a frat party she’s attending with some of the other art majors. I’m sure she’ll have had a beer at the least – I think the only places around here that pay attention to the legal drinking age are the stores, the bars, and RAs (but only if you mess up in some other way).
Take care
Love
Daria
-60s-
Daria’s Midterms
Health, 2, A-
Violin, 1, A
English Lit I, A
American Lit I, A
Intro Geology, 3, A-
History of England, A
US Constitution, 3, A-
Orchestra, 0, P
Average 3.867
-60s-
November 1
Dear Daria:
I am uncertain as to why you would need to know about any holiday plans I and your father may have, as you shall of course accompany us. In any event we shall, as usual, be at Mother’s for Christmas, although the exact dates are not yet determined. As Christmas falls upon a Sunday, it is not yet certain when your father will have time off. We will likely be at home for Thanksgiving, and of course be in town for your father’s station’s New Year’s Eve celebration.
Thank you for the copy of your satisfactory midterm grades.
Mother
(written on the back)
Daria: Very well done!
Love
Dad
-60s-
Jane snorted as she read the letter from Daria’s mother. It was as cold a response as she had expected. “Hey, do you go to this office party of your father’s?”
“Oh, no – Mother always has to drive him home, and they usually get in between two and three. They came in at two-twenty last year, and Quinn just beat them back by ten minutes. She had just managed to change and jump into bed when they checked on us.”
“There’s plenty of room at my place; shall I ask if you can stay over New Year’s, and you can come back with us that next Sunday?”
Daria thought about that for a brief moment, and then quickly agreed.
-60s-
November 8
Dear Daria:
I am heartened to understand you are close friends with your roommate – I was also fortunate in that regards (unlike either of your aunts during their first years) – and that you have also mentioned others you are friends (or at least friendly) with. I had hoped you would be more sociable in such an environment, which is why I agreed with your attending a larger school. As you will be with us at your Grandmother’s over Christmas, and since Miss Lane’s family lives between us and the school, you have our permission to stay with the Lanes over New Years.
Mother
As Helen looked over her letter before sealing it, she had several thoughts about it. One was she was indeed ‘heartened’ that her antisocial daughter was finally opening up a bit more. Daria had been friendly with a number of girls in school, but not really friends with any. Mr. Lane had a good reputation in and around the wider area as well as within his community (she had of course made inquiries, and had learned he was seen as an excellent wedding and society photographer).
Now, if only she could get her daughter into being a bit more fashionable, or perhaps at least get nicer glasses….
-60s-
November 10
The roommates were studying that evening, when Jane piped up, “Hey, Daria…?
“H’mm?”
“Are you going to go tomorrow?”
That made Daria look up in confusion. “Go where?”
Jane rolled her eyes. “Tomorrow’s Veteran’s Day.”
“Correct.”
“So there’s going to be a protest rally at eleven.” Seeing the still somewhat blank look, Jane amplified, “You know, against the war? In Viet Nam? I understand it, and the protests, have even made the news.”
“Very drool, Jane” Daria retorted. “No, I shall not be skipping class tomorrow. As you do not have class at eleven, are you going?”
“Of course!”
“Why ‘of course’?” An idea occurred to her. “Is Trent still in danger of being drafted?”
“No,” Jane admitted. “He was rejected. If he doesn’t have at least five cups of coffee and a pack of cigarettes a day, he can barely function. He stopped both for three days before his physical, and he was of no interest to them. Still, don’t you think it’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Daria replied honestly.
“How can you listen to all those folk singers, most of whom have at least one anti-war song, and be this undecided?”
“I listen to Wagner, that doesn’t make me lean towards the Nazis” Daria pointed out. “I listen to Viennese waltzes, and that doesn’t make me a monarchist.”
“Okay, I guess I understand, but it’s more than that.” Jane became insistent. “This is about now!”
“It might be,” Daria agreed. “Does the way we’re going about things over there seem to be ending the war? No, but maybe we’re not seeing the whole picture. If not, I don’t know if it’s better if we cut things down or increase our involvement. So, should I be attending these sorts of rallies? I don’t know, maybe I’d learn something. Or, maybe not.” Daria shrugged. “I do know that the jocks and frat boys will likely be there to counter-protest, and things might go the way protests have at other places.” A few had escalated into more than confrontations.
Jane thought about that. “You may have a point,” she admitted.
“So, I have English Lit at eleven; you don’t have class. Let me know what you think, if you go.”
“Fair enough.” Jane thought a moment. “Maybe you need to bring your guitar back after Thanksgiving.”
Daria shrugged, but smiled slightly. “You’re the one who’ll have to put up with my playing.”
-60s-
The next day, Daria walked past the open area surrounded by the admin building, the education building, the large old theater, the building holding the language departments and a number classrooms, and the huge old women’s dorm. The old dorm was having its interior gutted to make way for more offices and classrooms, as well as an extension to the library. That large open area also held the flagpole, and that’s where the rally was located.
Some male student with a bull horn was trying to harangue the crowd from the far side of where Daria was walking. However, between the jeers from the jocks and most of the frat boys on one side of the crowd and the general crowd noise (plus those shouting back at the counter-protesters), Daria really couldn’t make sense of the speech. She therefore continued to skirt the crowd and head towards the student union, which held, along with the bookstore and some student services on the ground floor, the cafeteria on the second floor.
Daria was about three-quarters of the way there, when she heard Jane call her name. She therefore waited for Jane to catch up before the pair went on for lunch.
“So, were you able to get much out of the protest?” Daria asked.
“Not a lot,” Jane admitted. “The protesters made a mistake when they started before eleven and refused to observe the two-minute silence. That caused a lot of shouting at them from the start.”
Daria nodded, unsurprised at either development.
“I don’t think this sort of thing is going to go completely away,” Jane pointed out.
“You’re likely right,” Daria had to agree.
-60s-
That same afternoon, Daria and Jane were a bit surprised to hear a knock on their door a little after 3:00. Opening it, they saw three upper-class students they didn’t recognize.
“Daria and Jane? Hi, I’m Dora Johnson; this is Carol Bearse and Amy Puttman. I’m a co-editor of both the LSC Literary Journal and the Poetry Journal, Carol is an assistant editor, and Amy is the features editor of the LSC Weekly.” That was the student-run newspaper. “Can we go to one of the study rooms and talk?”
Naturally, the two agreed, and all five agreed to talk as a group.
“Okay, we have some bad news, but more good news. I’ll start with the bad.” Dora took a breath and said to Daria, “We liked both of your short stories, especially the medieval one, but there is really no room in the next issue. We’d be happy to consider them for the spring, but no guarantees.” Seeing Daria’s face fall, she hurried on. “You submitted the maximum seven poems. As you may know, the Poetry Journal is usually divided into three sections, for traditional poetry, modern, and experimental. We are accepting one traditional poem, two modern, and one as experimental.” That cheered Daria up a bit, although she was unhappy three were rejected.
“Also, we bring on Freshmen in the spring semester to learn how to become editors, and we’ve gotten faculty approval to offer you one of the three positions.” Seeing that cheered Daria up a bit more, Dora went on, “Since you’ll have poems in three sections, you’ll get four copies instead of the usual two. You can also buy copies for a quarter rather than the usual fifty cents, but you’ll need to send in the order by next Friday.” She handed Daria an order form, a contract, and a list of editorial duties.
While Daria looked those over, Carol and Amy turned to Jane. “We liked your sample cartoons on student life,” Amy told her. “We’d like to use these three over the next few issues. Send more. Please!” She handed Jane the information she had to fill out.
“Amy showed me your stuff,” Carol picked up the thread. “I like that sketch you did of Daria at the typewriter. We’d like to use it as a page filler in the Literary Journal. Two free copies and of course, credit.” She also handed Jane a contract.
Obviously, both teens were happy to sign.
-60s-
“So, you’re obviously not as happy about this as I am,” Jane stated half an hour later.
Daria just made a face.
“Come on, Daria; talk to me.”
Daria sighed. “I know, even if I were the greatest writer ever and all my work were gems of perfection – and believe me, I know neither is true – not everyone would like what I wrote, and that wouldn’t mean they were idiots or what I wrote wasn’t good.” She sighed. “I also know I sort of succeeded more than I failed if the editorial thing is included, but I really liked that one short story.”
“So, look at it again in a few weeks and see if you think it can be improved – not changed, but improved. If not, submit it again or submit it someplace else.”
Daria slumped, but then sat up, and then smiled.
“Thought of something?”
“The story is good, but it’s just a scene. It needs to be part of a novel.”
Jane chuckled slightly and mostly silently before saying, “Well, that’s a change!”
Daria smiled at her friend. “How about you?”
“Hey, a cartoon and an illustration, that’s okay for a first semester Freshman. And remember, the illustration is of you.”
“True,” Daria admitted. “But while someone who really knows me might recognize me, you can’t really see my face that clearly. I have a blouse and a skirt on, and even socks.” She shrugged. Jane had teasingly asked to sketch Daria nude more than once, which had been very firmly rejected each time.
They turned when there was another knock on the door. Jane opened it to see three of their fellow Freshman floormates. “Hi!” the high-pitched voice of Brittany, an elementary ed major greeted them. “We’re going to catch the early showing of that musical.” She frowned in thought as she tried to remember the full title.
“‘A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum’? Really?” Daria asked, surprised these three, not the smartest co-eds on the floor, would be interested in a musical based on the Roman comedies of Plautus.
“We like musicals!” Jennifer stated.
“I really like Annette and Frankie beach musicals,” Brittany added. “Do you think this will be like those?”
“I doubt it, but this did have a good run on Broadway, and I think in London as well,” Daria told them. She looked at Jane. “I’m willing if you are.”
“Let’s go!”
“We can get something to eat afterwards, if we don’t fill up on popcorn,” Scarlett said as Jane handed Daria her coat.
-60s-
“I liked the lead,” Brittany said as the group waited for their pizza after the movie. “He was kinda cute. What was his name?”
“Michael Crawford,” Daria.
“I suppose you liked the Zero Mostel character best,” Jane teased.
“Of the characters, yes, but he was otherwise a bit too slimy for my tastes,” Daria retorted.
“Daria, you know a lot about history; was that accurate?” Brittany asked.
“The movie? Sort of, but not really,” Daria replied. “The basic plots were cobbled together from real Roman plays that parodied life, then there’s the layers of putting those together for a modern audience and setting the play about four hundred years after the time the plays were written.” Seeing the slight confusion on the others’ faces, Daria added, “So while it was over the top, there some truth to it.”
“Those poor girls, even if they got a happy ending in the movie,” Brittany said sadly.
The other four, knowing the pretty and buxom Brittany was often considered as much a sex object as the slave girls in the movie, quickly distracted her attention.
-60s-
November 23
“Thank you for the ride home, Missus Morgendorffer,” Jane said as she exited the Cadillac, a full laundry bag in hand.
“You are very welcome. It was nice to see you again,” Helen stated with a small smile.
Once Jane had shut the door, she turned towards the family house and managed not to shake her head, just in case Daria’s mother was looking at a rearview mirror. ‘That poor kid,’ she thought, ‘stuck with that woman and her sister until Sunday.’
“I must say, your roommate seems more pleasant than my first impression,” Helen stated. Daria merely nodded.
“Is there anything you need to tell me?” Helen asked.
Daria, knowing her mother liked to concentrate on her driving, even on boring drives, responded, “Not really. There are some minor things I need to tell you and Dad about, so I should tell you both together. Thank you again for giving Jane a ride.”
“That was not a problem. You said that the current plan was for her to pick you up next month?”
“Yes, well, probably her older brother will drive.”
“That’s very nice of him. Anything else?”
“Well, it has been almost a year since my last eye examination. I doubt we could get an appointment for Friday, but perhaps before we go to Grandmother’s or before I go to Jane’s?”
“Well, we will be back around Four; I’ll give them a call just in case they have an opening.”
-60s-
“Well, Daria, what did you have to tell us?”
“I think I’ll wait for Quinn to share her day, that way she won’t interrupt me.”
“Nonsense,” Helen stated firmly.
Daria managed not to audibly sigh. “Very well, as I wrote, classes are going very well. There some other things I was waiting to tell you. Most importantly, I will have four poems….”
“Oh, we read some interesting poetry in class today. Mister O’Neill congratulated me on my reading voice,” Quinn interrupted. “Sandi is recovering nicely from her sprained ankle; you know, the one she got falling off the pyramid in the last game. It’s still wrapped up….”
“Excuse me.”
“Daria, it is NOT polite to interrupt your sister.”
“Excuse ME, but she interrupted ME, after you told me to go first, even after I said she would interrupt me, which you denied.”
“Don’t you correct me, young lady!”
Jake, seeing his younger daughter smirk, quickly recalled exactly what he had been paying attention to before his attention had wandered.
“Helen!” he almost snapped. This startled the three women; Jake rarely intervened. Helen largely ruled the household while he went his own way – most of the time. Those few times he actually spoke up, Helen had to listen and only then decide if she should continue the fight.
“Quinn, you deliberately baited your sister and set her up. That’s fifty cents off of this week’s allowance.”
“Fifty cents! Right before the sales start Friday! How can I hold my head up with the Fashion Club?” $10 was a great allowance for most in 1966, but not as much as a few of her acquaintances. A $.50 penalty was a decent chunk.
“Fine, a dollar off, and your Mother will NOT be making it up. Say anything else, and you won’t be shopping this Friday or Saturday.”
Quinn opened her mouth, but then closed it and pouted.
“Pouting has not worked on either of us for several years,” Helen pointed out. Rather than directly admit an error, she turned to Daria. “You were saying, before your sister…distracted us?”
Daria managed again not to sigh. Still, even if her father rarely intervened, it was usually in her favor, as he had tonight. “The College Literary Club publishes a literary journal and a poetry one. They are publishing four of my poems in the fall issue, and I’ve been invited to become one of the three Freshmen editors next semester.”
“That’s great Daria!” her father enthused. Her mother nodded in genuine agreement (as she viewed those activities as socially acceptable), while her sister wrinkled her nose at the idea of doing any sort of intellectual work.
“I don’t know if you remember Marcie Brown; she played cello in the Youth Orchestra. She’s a music major at State, specializing in voice. Music majors give individual performances Thursday afternoons at three thirty. She’s going to perform two songs on next Thursday, and I’ll be accompanying her. And,” she went on, “to my surprise, I was asked to perform a piece then as well – not many non-music majors are asked. I’ll be playing a version of Offenbach’s ‘Barcarolle’ and Marcie will be accompanying me.”
“Very nice,” Helen stated before her husband could. “If there is a printed program, I hope you can send us a few.” She would send it to her snooty older sister and snootier mother – no doubt Daria would send one to her bratty younger sister Amy so she wouldn’t have to.
“The next day, the college orchestra is making a two day ‘tour’ to local schools. They will actually be playing here at the High School Saturday evening.”
“I don’t have anything on the third,” Jake told his wife. “Do we?”
Helen thought. “The evening of Saturday the third? Actually, no. I have a meeting that afternoon, but there’s nothing we or I have committed to that evening.” While not enthusiastic about the idea of the concert (since it wouldn’t be a stylish society affair), Helen was willing to support it, especially with the chance her daughter might choose a nicer set of frames at her eye exam if they were getting along better than usual.
“I’m sure I’ll have a date that night,” Quinn immediately interjected, and with a rather nasty intonation.
“Quinn!” Helen scolded. Quinn’s chances of her mother’s ignoring her father’s restriction on her allowance being plumped back to the full $10 plummeted from ‘unlikely’ to ‘no chance’ with that tone.
“Check with whoever you decide is taking you out that night; they might want to provide you a classier date than the backseat of their Rambler.”
Quinn made the mistake of a quick response, “Like anyone I date would drive a Rambler! The backseats I get into….” Realizing what she had basically admitted to, and seeing the looks dawning on both her parents’ faces, Quinn quickly said, “I mean…may I be excused, I don’t think I want dessert tonight.”
“You are excused,” Jake said coldly, to which Helen nodded agreement.
“Shall I get dessert?” Daria asked, making certain her voice held no note of triumph.
“There’s peach pie in the refrigerator,” Helen stated. Watching her daughter closely, Helen went on, “I must say I’m impressed, Daria. Some girls either overeat or undereat from stress their first semester, and so change weight either because they are more or less active.”
“I know I am a bit more active – there’s a lot more walking, especially up and down hills,” Daria stated, before admitting, “I’m probably only eat about the same at meals as I used to, but a few more snacks. I guess it’s balancing out.”
Helen nodded, and reminded herself to confirm the dentist appointment for her daughter over the spring break.
Jake broke the silence after they finished dessert. “Daria, do you think your sister…is she really…?”
“Are some of her dates to some degree ‘make out’ dates, at least some ending in the backseat? Including many if not most of her so-called ‘study dates’? Yes, and they have since you allowed her to go on them the summer before she entered ninth grade. Do those go as far as what is sometimes called ‘third base’ or even a ‘home run’? She certainly hadn’t gone that far before this school year, and I doubt if she has since. She rarely goes on dates that could get that far; one of the Fashion Club or another cheerleader is likely still with her, double dating. She wouldn’t even go to ‘second base’ until at least the fifth or sixth solo date, and not many guys would put up with the expensive dinner dates she demands well before things get to that point.” Daria shrugged and looked at her mother. “Why? Does she seem at all changed to you this fall?”
“No,” Helen admitted.
“And remember, that one girl got pregnant in the class between ours two years ago – that shocked a number of girls. I might make fun of Quinn’s intelligence, but she’s more than smart enough to avoid that happening willingly.”
Quinn, listening, was not surprised that Daria had partially sold her out; but despite not being happy about it, she knew her sister could have made it look much worse. She also had to acknowledge that this was partially her fault – her timing had been off when she interrupted Daria as she always used to do – she was out of practice, and she had foolishly responded to Daria’s jibe without thinking rather than somehow turning the exchange to her advantage.
-60s-
Michael Crawford would of course earn fame in the 1980s in the lead role in the musical ‘Phantom of the Opera.’
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