My Day by Eleanor Roosevelt

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BOSTON, Sunday—It is becoming more and more of a mystery to me how newspapers acquire non-existent news. Here am I in Boston, and I open the morning paper and find things about my own family which have no real foundation in fact, but the "reliable source" is never divulged, so it will probably remain a mystery to me and to many others who have the same experience.

Many people were sorry to learn of the death of Arthur Brisbane. His column was always well written and interesting to read, and though I knew him very slightly, I always enjoyed meeting him.

This living in a hotel without any obligations except to spend several hours a day in a hospital, is a most restful existence. As my two older sons saw me off at the train the other night, they remarked that their wives grew weary in Washington because of the numbers of engagements that always seemed to be hanging over them, and at home life was simpler. As a matter of fact I imagine that it is all a question of what one is accustomed to doing. I should find it probably quite difficult, for a short time at least, to do the things which are every day obligations to my young Texas rancher daughter-in-law. In any case the more youthful members of the family settled down to White House routine with great ease, and Chandler continues to behave as though the White House had always been her playground.

Franklin Jr. is improving, and we are all looking forward to finally leaving the hospital, for no matter how good a hospital may be, nobody wants to stay there any longer than is necessary. Yesterday was a very good day and we are reading aloud a book which provides us with plenty of thrills to counteract the monotony of our own days. It is the latest book written by Webb Miller.

We still continue to spend a great many hours just waiting round, for I never knew the time when hospital routine worked out exactly as it was scheduled to work, but as I look back over a rather long life, waiting round is one of the things which are inevitable where illness is concerned, so you just want to keep some occupation handy which you can pick up whenever you are told politely to step out of the room or to just wait until something or other is done. The really busy people are the nurses and doctors, so you are glad enough to wait patiently and store up activity for the time when you may need it yourself.

E.R.
TMsd 27 December 1936, AERP, FDRL