Notes by Larry Rupert
The marvel of modern technology brings these digitized images of Herbert G. Rupert Sr.ís diary from 1927. The diary came to me from my mother, Beverly Rupert, upon the death of my father, Herbert G. Rupert Jr. in 1978. I scanned all but the blank pages. The project was a compromise between providing the truest image possible while maintaining manageable file sizes. While much of it is difficult to read in fill page view, using the zoom function makes things much clearer. When I have time I plan on generating a full transcript. For now, though, the fun will be in reading it directly in his handwriting.
It is truly a remarkable book. In addition to documenting everyday life, it is witness to the courtship of Dorothy Jenkins, who later became his wife and the mother of his children. The account for the year starts on a sad note though, with the death of his father by suicide on 2 January and ends in early June with Grandpa apparently finally having cemented the deal to enter into marriage.
Dorothy, or Dot as he called her, is the centerpiece. The reader will notice that there are entries that are written in code, presumably relating to intimate thoughts of his sweetie. In my last conversation with Grandpa shortly before his passing, I told him of the existence of the diary and asked him if he remembered the code, which he did not. At one point through that period, I started an attempt to decode the entries, but felt that it was inappropriate while Grandpa was still alive. The mystery remains a mystery, but I think that enough time has passed that someone should undertake to solve it. Given the context though, caution is recommended as it may be of an adult nature!
One entry is interesting in that it foretold the future. At one point, Grandpa felt that Dot was slipping away from him. He notes that if that happens, he will have nothing left and would gather his belongings and drift west. After Dotís death almost thirty years later, he did just that. He then turned up in the mid sixties at our house in Belgium N.Y.. His stay was short, although it was extended slightly by major blizzard. I saw him again, along with Uncle Stan, while on a day pass from A.F. boot camp in San Antonio in 1972. I never saw him again.
The diary now goes back to the safe deposit box. It was my motherís wish when she gave it to me that it should be passed down through the oldest son of each generation. This may lead to a predicament in that Laura and I only have a daughter (Lindsay), although who knows what could yet happen in my lifetime. In any case, it is my plan that the diary will always be kept safe by a family member.
28 December, 2000