Vassar College Digital Library

Aaron, Fannie | to Mother and Father, postmarked 1921 November 8

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n.d. [postmarked 1921-11-08]
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[postmarked 8 Nov 1921]

Dear Mother and Father:

Just a minute to breath in! I had a full day today, work and classes all day except when I worked on debate and went to Junior Party rehearsal I have debate practice tonight.

The team was announced this morning. I was surprised, to say the least. Kellogg, the third speaker in class debate last year, the only Soph speaker in intercollegiate, is an alternate. Bish persuaded Emma McDonald, who told her before tryouts that she was going to the Yale-Princeton game and was told she could be an alternate and go away, to stay and take the first speech. The other speaker is Lois Barclay, whom I would have made an alternate. To my way of thinking they made two very decided mistakes.

I shall be terribly rushed till Thursday, so I will only be able to write cards. I hope that the rush won't get me in edge.

The real point of this letter is this: The class of 1923 is planning a very elaborate and well-organized sale of Christmas gifts, the profits of which are to go toward the class quota for the Endowment Fund. We hope to raise enough to have the whole quota that way. I give my articles to the booth for men's gifts. We were urged to see if


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we could get anything wholesale, and better still, if we couldn't get the whole sale place to give the things as a form of gift to the endowment fund. So I bethought me of Rauh's, and didn't see whey when you and Pete buy silk socks there you couldn't buy some for yourselves, which I would sell here. Would you get them, Mother? Get about ten dollars' worth--I guess that would be a half dozen pairs. Uncle Ike, also my chairman, told me to write to them, and if I worded it tactfully enought, they would offer to give the stuff, and then if we sell them, it would be entirely profit. Or should I write them myself? R. S. V. P. immediately, as the sale is right after Thanksgiving.

When I got back from New York last night, there was a telegram from Harold, which I was to use to help have the debate date changed so that I could get up to New Haven next week. It was--(a great big fib) "Our plans absolutely upset unless you come to game Saturday. We are counting on you". But it didn't do any good. The Sophs refuse to change. Besides which, with the team composed as it is, that probably means that I am main speaker, because Emma is definitely booked for the first speech, and I simply could not ditch the thing now. Such is life when one wants to be intellectual as well as social! Just the same--darn the old debate.

As you notice, I haven't invested in typewriter paper yet.

I didn't say the weather was warm as toast at the [game], Father. I said I was. What with a fur coat, a big plushy cushion to sit on, and a steamer-rug to wrap up in, I couldn't very well be anything else.

I had a great day. The only thing that went wrong was not getting to Princeton till twelve-thirty, but I didn't see how I could ditch Uncle Ike and Aunt Bessie when I was staying with them, and go over ahead of them.

We had lunch at Commons, the four of us plus Harold. I had the honor of seeing and


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speaking to Albert Cabet, who was waiting on the table--not ours. While we were eating Marian, Jun or Weil, Ruth G, and Byron Foster filed out past us. I got up and spoke to them, just for a minute. Marian told me to call her up Sunday morning, but I did not do so.

After lunch I saw Grace Lubin and met her brother. We walked down to the game with them. He is very English, naturally enough. Grace has gotten to be very good looking. Don't laugh, I really mean it. Lester tried to persuade them to stay over for dinner, but they had promised their mother and Eorothy who was in B. M. for the week-end, to be back there for dinner.

The same party that had lunch together, plus Howard Baer, had dinner together. We enjoyed it very much.

We left on the seven-thirty special, and got back to Woodmere at ten-fifteen. It was a fine day, although the Harvardite got on my nerves more than was good for me and all of us several times during the afternoon. He is one overgrown fool in a good many respects. Incidentally, he is suffering from his sprained vocal cords, and can hardly say a word. So he entertains all interested by talking deaf and dumb to them.

He and I took a long walk Sunday morning. We called for the kids at Sunday school. I studied and played with the kids in the afternoon. We left at six and got to the station at seven-thirty. I took the seven-forty-five up and a taxi out to college.

That is the end of a perfect week-end, almost perfect, I mean. But I shudder when I think of all that must be gotten into the next four days.

I am glad you are home Father. Let Mother fuss over you all she wants. She knows more about the care of the feeble than you do.