MAY 24, 1938
WASHINGTON, Monday—And again the rain falls! I only hope it will clear up this afternoon, for the newspaper dance tonight is a large party and it adds tremendously to everybody's pleasure if people can wander about the terraces and the garden. The cool night air is welcome when they get tired and hot from dancing.
I told you yesterday was a quiet day, but I don't believe I gave you an idea of how really peaceful it was. I ate my breakfast entirely alone on the south porch, rode for two hours, lunched on a glass of milk and some crackers and then, for an hour and a half, read newspapers and various things which had been sent to me. Anything as leisurely as this hasn't fallen to my lot in many a long day, and how we appreciate things which we don't have all the time!
I have just received the first copy of the "Connecticut Nutmeg," an entirely unique magazine which numbers among its contributors many of the best known names in literature, and yet pays none of them. Its appeal will be many-sided—a column on nature notes by Heywood Broun, one on men's furnishings by John Erskine, Ursula Parrott on "This And That," columns by Elizabeth Hawes and George Bye, and letters from correspondents such as Rose Wilder Lane and others who are certain to keep one constantly interested. Even if some of the eminent writers insist on writing largely about Connecticut, we will have to put up with it and believe the places we live in are just as deserving of literary notice.
Sunday afternoon Miss Mayris Chaney and Miss Vandy Cape, who will help to entertain our guests this evening, arrived and joined me on the porch for tea. We saw the President and the rest of the family drive up in a grand cavalcade from the boat. They were all in high spirits for they had seen some really good races. The sun certainly had shone on them—they all had acquired the most vivid red complexions.
A few friends for supper and then the President left us with a rather solemn expression, for the Secretary of State wished to report on the latest news. I open the papers every morning now with dread and I hardly dare ask my husband what is happening in the world. I feel I cannot face with equanimity the stories of any more horrors and bloodshed spread across the pages of our newspapers day by day.
A few young people came to luncheon today. They are the pupils of Miss Julia Parker, one of our Hyde Park neighbors. One or two appointments this afternoon, ending up with a visit to my daughter-in-law, Bestey. She is giving a good-bye tea party, for, like the rest of us, she is preparing to fly off to the country in a week or so and Jimmy is leaving tomorrow for a visit to the Mayo Clinic.