My Day by Eleanor Roosevelt

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WASHINGTON, Monday—Yesterday afternoon a very sad piece of news came to me which I know will cast a shadow over the President's vacation. Mrs. Thomas M. Lynch wired that her husband, our old friend, died suddenly Saturday night. She, herself, has been in the hospital and I know that his anxiety over her was great, so this must be a terrible shock to her as well as to all of his friends. As far back as I can remember, Mr. Lynch has been associated with my husband's political campaigns and his life in Hyde Park and New York State. He lived in Poughkeepsie and New York City and the President counted on his interest and loyalty. They always had many reminiscences to talk over and he was one of the men who always attended my husband's birthday reunions, which started with a small group in 1921 and have gradually grown through the years as new people have become intimately associated with him in his various fields of work.

This was the first year that I can remember when Tom Lynch was not present, but he gave as the reason for his absence, his anxiety about his wife. I am particularly grieved for his little girl. I think she was probably given more attention and devotion than a younger father might have bestowed. Even at six or seven years of age, sorrows of this kind make a lasting impression.

It cleared yesterday afternoon, but I somehow made up my mind to stick to my work and stay indoors. It was rather nice to feel unhurried. Of course, one wastes a good deal more time when the necessity for accomplishing a great deal quickly is not hanging over one. In fact, I think frittering time could become quite a vice with me, for it is all I can do to make myself go to bed at night after I have once closed the door of my sitting room and feel that the time which remains before I go to sleep is all my own. There are a hundred and one things I would like to do, whereas the rest of the time I have been doing the things I ought to do!

I received a book today called: "Nine Chains To The Moon," sent me by a graduate of the Todhunter School who is now working as secretary to Mr. R. Buckminster Fuller, the author, in a magazine office. I think Miss Dickerman must have a great satisfaction from watching the work which her graduates are doing. That is one of the interesting things about being a school teacher, you can see the results of your training as the years go by.

Yesterday's paper carried the story that Groton School will lose Dr. Endicott Peabody as head master next year, after 54 years under one head. That will be a most difficult parting for both the "Rector," as the boys call him, and for his family and the school. He has seen many boys pass through his hands and in large part lived their lives with them. Every now and then when I read of some one of them who is carrying a heavy responsibility, I think that the "Rector" must feel that at least a part of himself went into the making of each one of these men, and a little prayer of thanksgiving must go up for those who acquit themselves well.

E.R.
TMs, AERP, FDRL