My Day by Eleanor Roosevelt

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NEW YORK, Tuesday—I have discovered you can form a habit of mind in a week, for when I left the hospital yesterday afternoon and knew I would not be back for 24 hours, it gave me a feeling of being rather lost and purposeless. Mrs. Scheider is still weak, but so much better that I know she will not really need a constant visitor. However, having had a daily occupation and one thought for 8 days, it is hard for me to change and think of other things in life.

My daughter, my son-in-law, and I, drove down to New York City over the Extension Parkway immediately after lunch. I left them with my mother-in-law at her 65th Street house and reached my own apartment in time to have tea with a friend. Earlier in the day I had a message from Franklin, Jr., in which he said he would like to join the family wherever we might be.

I wired him to come and dine with us, though I had no seat for him at the play. Of course, he teased me all through dinner for the inhospitable tone of my telegram and said his feelings were badly hurt. However, it did not affect his appetite! He explained that this was due to the fact that he had gone without his lunch because he was driving his two dogs up to Hyde Park, where they will spend the rest of the summer. It is fortunate that the one dog my mother-in-law has left on the place is a very old police dog, otherwise I think we might have some very unpleasant experiences.

He assures me that his Great Dane and Irish setter always chum together. Though they do not pick a quarrel, they can clean up any other dog, so I hope our old police dog will be wise and accept these two summer guests!

It is curious how being in the country for a week gives one a longing to have a dog about one. If I did not know that next autumn would see me back in Washington and travelling around a good deal, I would be sorely tempted to accept a puppy which has been promised me when I leave the White House.

Last night, Anna, John and I saw the much talked about musical comedy, "I Married An Angel." The "Angel," Vera Zorina, is charming and the play is amusing as well as tuneful. I always have thought a comedy could be successfully written on the question of actually telling the truth.

So few of us like the truth, but it would be refreshing to hear it now and then. It would relieve one of the necessity of figuring out what is true and what is false—and what a relief occasionally to say what one really thought! Truth need not be unkind if one is not afraid of it. But it is not always beauty, in spite of our "Angel's" assertion!

E.R.
TMs, AERP, FDRL