My Day by Eleanor Roosevelt

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WASHINGTON, Monday—It is always exciting to come home from a trip when you have visited your family, because there are so many foolish little things you have to tell. It may seem trivial when the world is in a turmoil, to tell the President of the United States that Anna's baby, Johnnie, has curls that should belong to a girl and that I deeply resent their not being on somebody's head who could enjoy them the rest of her life! Of course, they will have to be cut off and he will spend hours trying to slick his hair straight when he grows older. Nevertheless, the President is interested and I really think it is good for him, for the little things of life are important and one tends to forget them in the stress of great events.

My mother-in-law wanted to hear every detail about the children and announced that she must get on a plane and go to Seattle at once to see Johnnie before his curls are cut off!

The drive up the river yesterday morning was pleasant because the air was delightfully snappy. But as far as having a chance to look at the scenery, that was out of the question. Miss Thompson decided I had to work and when she makes that decision my nose is kept to the grindstone, so I read letters the whole way to Hyde Park.

Lunch at the Big House with my mother-in-law and her guests was delightful. The Governor-General and his wife, Princess Alice, and their daughter, Lady May Abel Smith, were all very friendly and attractive. I was sorry to leave in the afternoon in order to catch up with my work and be free today to keep my various engagements. We meant to come down to Washington by train, but I forgot that even on a coldish, autumn Sunday, traffic going to New York City would be very heavy, so we missed the train and took a plane instead.

A very nice young man, who sat across the aisle from us, said he was coming down to start in on a job here today. He was reading Romain Rolland and, after a while, said that he thought he would finish his volume someday, but it didn't look to him as though our mail would ever be done.

If the serious things of the world depress you too much, I recommend that you go out and buy a book called: "My Mother Is A Violent Woman" by Tommy Wadelton. The gentleman may not be as young as his name or his style indicates, but he certainly has the gift of making a family group seem alive. He describes his character in a delightful way, always with the humorous side to the fore. I feel as though I knew "the violent woman" and, knowing her, no one could help liking her.

E.R.
TMs, AERP, FDRL