Eleanor Roosevelt – My Day (Feb. 1940)

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February 24, 1940

Golden Beach, Fla., Friday –
I finished a book yesterday which I hated to put down. It is called Wind, Sand and Stars by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. The American edition of this book is offered in homage to the airline pilots of America and their dead. These men deserve high homage, but I think it is not too much to say of this book that it is worthy of the men to whom it is dedicated.

I think it leaves one with a better understanding of what it means to be a real man and why men must have a zest for life and yet a contempt for death. One quotation in the early part of the book is worth noting:

To be a man is, precisely, to be responsible. It is to feel shame at the sight of what seems to be unmerited misery. It is to take pride in a victory won by one’s comrades. It is to feel, when setting one’s stone, that one is contributing to the building of the world.

There is a tendency to class such men with toreadors and gamblers. People extol their contempt for death. But I would not give a fig for anybody’s contempt for death. If its roots are not sunk deep in an acceptance of responsibility, this contempt for death is the sign either of an impoverished soul or of youthful extravagance.

I wonder if some of our young people today, who rather clumsily express their desire to keep this country at peace and continue the efforts of their generation to make life more worth living, do not have this desire rooted in them because of their sense of responsibility for conditions in the world. Some people think this desire is rooted in personal fear. I doubt that greatly, for I have known few real cowards in my life. Death is so inevitable that few people are really afraid when faced by it. Inevitability calls forth a courage all its own, but a desire to live and face the difficulties of a world, which certainly is full of unanswered questions, smacks of this courage which accepts responsibility. There may be a chance that it is the courage which we need today.

The book ends with this sentence:

Only the spirit, if it breathe upon clay, can create man.

Not a bad thing to remember. Flesh and blood is not what makes man. It is that spirit which none of us understand, the great mystery which all of us face which really creates a man.

I have discovered what is the paramount interest in Florida. Nothing less than the weather! You look out of your window in the morning and rejoice in the sunshine, and a cold wind blowing is a real, personal grievance. You feel removed, at least I do, from the things which are going on in the world. Even the newspapers and the radio bring them to me as something distant and apart from this circumscribed world of sea and sand and wind.

The moon on the ocean last night was unbelievably lovely, but it was too cold to sit out of doors. I left the place yesterday morning for the first time and drove about to have a glimpse of Miami, which has changed much since I came here years ago.

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February 26, 1940

Golden Beach, Fla., Sunday –
Have any of you read Elizabeth Goudge’s A City of Bells? If you have, a little story called The Sister Of The Angels will bring you some of the same characters. This is one of the most delightful Christmas stories I have ever read. Henrietta, the 11-year-old heroine, is a charming child. In one way, she is more mature than most of us, for she accepts people as they are and does not try to turn them into the kind of people they should be. She has the appreciation that all children have for people who treat them as equals.

The author shows her deep understanding of this particular trait in a child when Henrietta wisely reflects that she

…never could see that being grown-up was anything to boast about. One didn’t grow oneself, adding to one’s inches by one’s own skill. God grew one.

If only more of us could remember that, we might not be such a trial to our children.

I rejoiced in one other little passage:

Why does Christmas come only once a year? I think it is a great mistake that it doesn’t come oftener.

Of course, I can understand that, in some ways, it might prove fairly exhausting to have to repeat all the things which one does on Christmas several times during the year, but I wish the Christmas spirit could stay with us more constantly. I am sure many of us would be happier.

Last night we drove to meet my son James at the airport. We had not telephoned ahead and found ourselves three-quarters of an hour early because headwinds had delayed his plane. We watched a plane come in and leave, a sight which always fascinates me at night. They look more like birds than ever and, when they are far away in the sky, they just look like shooting stars.

I did not step out of the car, for so many were parked around us that I decided there must be quite a crowd. However, we were in a place where I could see Jimmy leave the plane. I saw him arrive and in a few minutes he was walking through the darkness toward the car. While we waited for his bag, and he went inside to the ticket office, I had an opportunity to catch a glimpse of a gentleman who has always been just an interesting name to me, Mr. Walter Winchell, who had also apparently been meeting this plane. As he walked away with another man, I craned my neck to get a really good view of him, but all I saw was a hat worn very jauntily and a rather tall, thin gentleman who walked rapidly away.

It has always amused me to see celebrities, but unless I can sit down and really talk to them and come away with a feeling that I have actually made the acquaintance of another human being, I have no urge to go and shake them by the hand, or say a polite good morning or good evening.

We arrived home rather late and today has dawned a most beautiful sunny, windless morning. I look forward to the beach with the greatest of joy.

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February 27, 1940

Golden Beach, Fla., Monday –
Yesterday was the most beautiful sunny and windless morning which we have had since arriving here We all sat out on the beach and sunned ourselves, and even brought our one and only visitor out with us, rather than retire to the house even for a brief hour. Some of us had lunch under the cabana awning, but were finally driven in by one of those short showers which blow up so quickly in this part of the world.

Jimmy was off to see various friends for part of the afternoon and evening. The rest of us spent the afternoon reading, sleeping and doing the mail, which is still with us even on a holiday. I think that Miss Thompson has about a quarter of the day free on a holiday. The rest of her time she spends in a little tiled loggia which is bright with sun most of the time. This, perhaps, gives the illusion that she is working less than if she were in her Washington office, but I can’t see that there is a tremendous amount of difference.

Last evening, we went over to the Miami-Biltmore pools to see the Water Revue of 1940. It is a delightful show featuring some wonderful diving by some of the most famous diving stars. One of the most charming features is the swimming of Kay Mattern and Jerry Walsh, which is remarkably precise and graceful. The comedians, who interspersed the real diving feats, were better, I thought, than those at the Acquacade at the World’s Fair. One enjoys the whole show more here, because it is in a more intimate setting and makes one feel more a part of what is going on. The very high dive always takes my breath away, in fact all the divers have my sincere admiration and breathless attention until their feats are successfully performed.

B’nai B’rith had sent me a notice of the youth meetings which their organization sponsored in cooperation with twenty other youth-serving agencies, during the week of Washington’s Birthday. They say that representatives of three million young people of all races, creeds and colors, held simultaneous youth and democracy rallies in more than three hundred communities, and that at these rallies the ten goodwill resolutions – which I printed recently in my column – were read aloud. Young people are less prejudiced than older people, and it is well to confirm them in their leaning toward respect and understanding for other young people of different backgrounds and beliefs.

The more youth can be stirred to take an interest in citizenship, the better for the future of the country, and I am glad to see that both youth-serving agencies and youth groups are more keenly interested year by year.

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February 28, 1940

Golden Beach, Fla., Tuesday –
We were very busy yesterday morning getting Jimmy off to his plane. His friends, the Ned Brandons from Boston, came to see him and sat in the sun for a while, and then offered to drive him to the airport. I went up to talk to him while he packed and finally, very reluctantly saw him leave.

A little while later, Franklin Jr.'s wife, Ethel, called me up to say she had come down to be with her mother, sister and sister-in-law at the Boca Raton Club, and that they were driving over to the races and would stop to see me either on their way over or on their way home. I told her I would greet them warmly whenever they stopped, for I had no intention of leaving my own domain. It was nearly 6 o’clock when the young things turned up, all looking much too young and pretty to carry any responsibilities. We had a nice talk, and they thought I had picked out a nice place to hibernate. Ethel said that she knew that if Franklin Jr. didn’t have examinations staring him in the face just now, that I would have received word that they both wanted to come and stay!

The National Society for Crippled Children of the United States of America, which has its headquarters in Elyria, Ohio, sends me word that on the first of March they will open their annual Easter Seal drive. This national society has state associations and the Easter Seal drive helps to finance these state groups. They work on legislation upholding anything which will help to increase the state’s responsibility for the cost, care and treatment of crippled children. They are most anxious to see federal aid extended for the education of physically handicapped children of all types. In 1937, it was estimated that a total of 1,873,231 handicapped children needed special education, and less than ten percent of that number were receiving it. At the same time that this society watches legislation, the groups cooperate with social welfare agencies in making happier the lot of crippled children.

I mention this sale now instead of later, because while it extends through to Easter Sunday, I feel that many people awakened to the need will be willing to help and cooperate in making it a success.

Last night, I read three stories about dogs by Alexander Woollcott, collected in a little book called Verdun Belle. That is the name of one of these stories which the “Town Crier” read over the air. Everyone who likes dogs will enjoy these stories.

If you happen to be interested in the effect that schools can have on the growth of communities, I think you will enjoy reading Miss Elsie Clapp’s book Community Schools In Action. She is a most interesting and unique person who did a remarkable piece of work in two different schools for the communities in which she lived.

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February 29, 1940

Golden Beach, Fla., Wednesday –
I woke this morning to the realization that there was no sound of wind, and for the first time I stepped out into the sunshine in what our colored maid immediately dubbed “a perfect Florida day.” We may have wind later on, and it may turn cold again, but I know at last what is considered perfect Florida weather and it certainly is marvelous. No one could ask for anything more delightful. I could not bear even to come in for breakfast, and so had it brought down to the little cabana on the beach.

Yesterday afternoon, the owners of the house, Mr. and Mrs. Ross Judson, their sister, and two daughters came in at 5:00. I was very glad to be able to tell them in person how much I appreciate all they have done to make this house attractive and comfortable for our stay. At the same time, three young people who are working in the Miami Beach Playhouse, came to tell me a little about their plans. The young girl, Miss Nancy Cushman, is publicity director, and this week is also acting the leading role in The Vinegar Tree. Apparently, Mr. Mulvey is head of the group, and Mr. Gant Gaither is the producer. They seem to have great enthusiasm and must have ability, for a project of this kind always takes time before it becomes known and really is part of the life of any community. They have discovered that they must give rather light plays, for people who come down here want to be amused, not stirred.

I was impressed by their devotion to what they are doing, for they put on a new play every week and must rehearse from ten to five each day and act every evening. They are now looking for a place where they can establish a little theatre to run through the spring, summer and autumn, so that the company may be kept together. I hope they succeed, for the multiplication of these companies will add enormously to the knowledge of the theatre, which is sadly lacking in many communities throughout the United States.

At a time when many of us are watching Assistant Secretary of State, Mr. Sumner Welles’ trip in Europe with much interest, I think I should tell you of a cablegram which I received a little while ago from Stockholm, Sweden. It is signed by 17 organizations, national and international in scope, and is addressed through me to all American women. It states that under the auspices of 24 leading women’s organizations, representing 520,000 women with various ideals and political views, a meeting was held which adopted a resolution urging women in all countries “to reflect upon the consequences of a total war in all its inhumanity” They go on to say that conditions now existing:

…must force the women of all countries into common endeavors to find expedients by which to check the terrible happenings of today.

They beg us to join in condemnation of war wherever it appears and conclude by saying:

Let us set to work and strain every nerve to stop the process of devastation and prevent the impending catastrophe which threatens humanity.

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Gosh I understand it was a different time but the praise of a model “Industrial School for White Children” still chills my bones, especially from the First Lady…Love your in-depth postings from the archives, it does speak to the feelings and cultural acceptability of the times, sad this was not so comparatively modern :cry:

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She was certainly more progressive than her husband, so there’s that.

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