AUGUST 20, 1940
HYDE PARK, Monday—On my way up from New York City on Saturday afternoon, like many other interested citizens, I listened to Mr. Wendell Willkie's speech. He has a good voice and speaks well over the radio.
In the evening, some young people came to discuss the meeting of a group of young people. I was interested in their attitude toward the discussion of political questions in their groups. They thought it would be valuable, but one girl was afraid it would become just a political meeting and not a real discussion.
They all questioned whether reponsible people, in or out of office, would come to answer questions. I think that young people do not realize what potential strength and influence they have in community life and how important it is for them to bring questions before their communities which are of interest to them.
Later on, some of our neighbors held a dance on our picnic grounds, using the platform which was put up for the play the other night. I stayed with them for a time and everyone seemed to have fun under the light of the full moon. I could not help thinking how pleasant and fortunate it was for us that we did not have to worry when we heard an airplane flying overhead.
I have had brought to my attention several times a publication called "Libros," which is printed in this country in Spanish and sent every month to 10,000 selected readers in Latin America. This publication disseminates information about the best books published here and is intended to develop better cultural relations and improve the understanding between the Americas.
I am sure it does a valuable work, but the greatest difficulty that our books face in South America is the fact that they are very much more expensive than German publications, which for years have been sold throughout South America at very low prices. This tends to make students buy a German book in preference to one published in the United States, if they are unable to spend a great deal.
I forgot to tell you of a very delightful play which I attended on Friday night at a boy's camp not far from here. Camp Ramapo is back of Rhinebeck, N. Y., hidden away in a delightful spot in the woods. I am sure that its sponsors are accomplishing a great work for the boys, to whom they give not only an opportunity for health, but for development and education along many lines.
I motored down again to New York City this morning and hope to meet my son, Franklin Jr., later in the day.