CHAPTER SEVEN
June 12, 1937 ~ Dr. Steven’s Journal ~ Breakfast at Thelma’s Diner. Every seat is occupied. Overalls and jeans. Suits. House dresses. Every walk of life. All seated in protest to my presence. I came unglued. “What are you looking at?" I startled even myself. I leaned over my plate of eggs and bacon, poured syrup over all of it, making a lake to dip my toast in.
At that point I’d had enough of the stares and whispers. Felt like I was back in the classroom when students were thinking about the weekend binge and their college plunderings, instead of the lecture I’d worked hard to prepare.
My stomach growled and so did I. I cut my eggs, dipped the bite in syrup and just about got it to my mouth. But the staring and loudly whispered comments pressed at me. I dropped the fork on
