Hannah Sievert
Hannah came to Sunday dinner. It is the first of what I am told will be a stand…
saved Aug 30, 2026 21:45date Aug 30, 2026
2linked records
4named, not linked
journal-2026-08-30
What it says
Hannah came to Sunday dinner. It is the first of what I am told will be a standing arrangement, five o'clock, during term.
She moved into the dormitory on Friday. Ellen and Mark brought her up with a carload, and we came at ten with lunch, a fan, and a small toolbox from R. with her initials on the handle of the screwdriver. The room is a concrete box on the sixth floor with a view of a parking ramp and, if you lean, the lake. Her roommate is a girl named Sanvi, from Schaumburg, who is going to be an engineer and who shook R.'s hand and asked him what kind. They talked about load paths for ten minutes while the rest of us made the bed. Ellen cried in the elevator. Mark carried an empty box down to the car.
Today she took the bus out and walked from the stop, and came in at the back door at ten to five without knocking.
I made the lentil thing, and bread, and a peach pie. R. ate lentils, said they were "fine," and had seconds. She told us about the first days: a lecture hall with four hundred seats, a chemistry book that cost more than my first sewing machine, a girl on her floor who has never done laundry. She had brought her own, two bags of it.
Then she dried the dishes. She asked whether she might have the upstairs back bedroom to study in on Sundays, because it is quiet and the desk in her room is the size of a tray. I said she could.
R. drove her back at eight. He was gone fifty minutes for a twelve-minute drive. He says there was construction.
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| Date | 2026-08-30 21:45 |
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{
"$type": "n_type_journal_entry",
"id": "n_journal_2026_08_30",
"createdAt": "1788126300000",
"date": "2026-08-30T21:45:00.000Z",
"body": "Hannah came to Sunday dinner. It is the first of what I am told will be a standing arrangement, five o'clock, during term.\n\nShe moved into the dormitory on Friday. Ellen and Mark brought her up with a carload, and we came at ten with lunch, a fan, and a small toolbox from R. with her initials on the handle of the screwdriver. The room is a concrete box on the sixth floor with a view of a parking ramp and, if you lean, the lake. Her roommate is a girl named Sanvi, from Schaumburg, who is going to be an engineer and who shook R.'s hand and asked him what kind. They talked about load paths for ten minutes while the rest of us made the bed. Ellen cried in the elevator. Mark carried an empty box down to the car.\n\nToday she took the bus out and walked from the stop, and came in at the back door at ten to five without knocking.\n\nI made the lentil thing, and bread, and a peach pie. R. ate lentils, said they were \"fine,\" and had seconds. She told us about the first days: a lecture hall with four hundred seats, a chemistry book that cost more than my first sewing machine, a girl on her floor who has never done laundry. She had brought her own, two bags of it.\n\nThen she dried the dishes. She asked whether she might have the upstairs back bedroom to study in on Sundays, because it is quiet and the desk in her room is the size of a tray. I said she could.\n\nR. drove her back at eight. He was gone fifty minutes for a twelve-minute drive. He says there was construction.\n"
}
Source
personas/retired-couple/records/journal-2025-2026.yaml:381
- id: journal-2026-08-30
kind: journal_entry
about: [hannah, ray]
date: 2026-08-30 21:45
body: |
Hannah came to Sunday dinner. It is the first of what I am told will be a standing arrangement, five o'clock, during term.
She moved into the dormitory on Friday. Ellen and Mark brought her up with a carload, and we came at ten with lunch, a fan, and a small toolbox from R. with her initials on the handle of the screwdriver. The room is a concrete box on the sixth floor with a view of a parking ramp and, if you lean, the lake. Her roommate is a girl named Sanvi, from Schaumburg, who is going to be an engineer and who shook R.'s hand and asked him what kind. They talked about load paths for ten minutes while the rest of us made the bed. Ellen cried in the elevator. Mark carried an empty box down to the car.
Today she took the bus out and walked from the stop, and came in at the back door at ten to five without knocking.
I made the lentil thing, and bread, and a peach pie. R. ate lentils, said they were "fine," and had seconds. She told us about the first days: a lecture hall with four hundred seats, a chemistry book that cost more than my first sewing machine, a girl on her floor who has never done laundry. She had brought her own, two bags of it.
Then she dried the dishes. She asked whether she might have the upstairs back bedroom to study in on Sundays, because it is quiet and the desk in her room is the size of a tray. I said she could.
R. drove her back at eight. He was gone fifty minutes for a twelve-minute drive. He says there was construction.