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1955-05-01 - 1:30 p.m.

Remember me Journal. It's Bobbie Sue Dicks. Today I can say I've glimpsed the future and it's spelled
R-U-S-S-I-A. My Father says Russians are communists who live off of potatoes and small children. He says that one day they will invade and we will all have to give up speaking English and watching television for hard labour and the black market. I believed him Journal, that is until today. It all started on our school trip to the caves.
Every year the science department sponsors a trip to the beautiful caverns of Luray, Virginia. We get to spend the day learning about stalagtites in the wet dark. Every year at least one student experiences acute claustrophobia and has to be led outside to stop their screaming. Those students who make it through the tour are granted the rare treat of listening to a lady play church music on the Lusay Cavern's Famous Stalacpipe Organ.
Now Journal, you may be asking yourself what do the beautiful caves of Lusay, Virginia have to do with Russia and the threat of imminent communism? Earlier this year Principle Resh announced that our school would be sponsoring a foreign exchange student from Russia. Unfortunately, the excitement surrounding "Save a Russian Youth Program" died down after football season started. So when roll call was shouted out on the bus to Virginia we were all surprised to see her seated at the back of the bus.
She was like nothing I've ever seen before, Journal. She looked very foreign and I was intrigued. She was smoking and when Mr. Conklin called out her name, Annotchka Saposhnikov, she answered by grunting "Screw Off". I knew then and there Journal, that I had glimpsed a vision into the future. I rose from my seat with the intent of taking the empty spot next to her. When I tried to sit down she kicked me in the shins and offered me a cigarrette.
What happened next you ask? You'll just have to wait and see journal. My parents are calling me for dinner and I have a bruised leg and a letter from my principal to explain. I find myself asking what would Tolstoy do and it comforts me. Sweet dreams Journal.

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