my

life F.D.R.

with

Part 2:

by ANNA ROOSEVELT

This article deals with Anna Roosevelt's earliest recollections of her father. As
the oldest child and the only daughter, she ”wanted to be a boy" because her
father's love of the outdoors appealed to her far more than the lessons she was told
she must learn in order to be a lady some day." This tall, handsome and athletic
father was rarely a disciplinarian, leaving the largest part of that job to his wife
and his mother. So, as Anna explains; No wonder that during those early days
Father was my childhood hero . . . not politically or as a world leader . . . just as a
man and my father!"

Yes, mine was a happy childhood,
and it certainly should have been,
because at Hyde Park, at Campobello
Island and in Washington, D.C., my
brothers and I had every opportunity
to indulge our instincts for robust
fun. Father provided plenty of lead-
ership in this direction.

It was Father who taught me to
ride, starting when I was only two
years old. He loved his horse, Bobby,
so I loved all horses.

When I was ten, Father’s uncle,
Warren Delano, gave me a small and
sturdy Norwegian horse. The horse
was stubborn, and when he and I
disagreed as to which direction was
to be followed, he would frequently
knock me out of the saddle by back-
ing fast under a low limb of a tree.
He would buck me off and drag me
along the ground because I insisted
on hanging on to the reins. Father

was never one to offer sympathy if
he felt you could learn to do some-
thing better. So I carefully kept these
little incidents to myself.

Father, Mother and my grand-
mother were not demonstrative with
sympathy or even affection. Granny
took the lead in stressing family loy-
alty. But in case of illness or injury,
the emphasis was on courage and
keeping quiet about whatever pain
we felt. I know this self-discipline
was of immeasurable value to Father
when he faced his fight against polio.

Once when Jimmy had a bad case
of poison ivy, Mother arrived from
New York and I took her immedi-
ately to Jimmy’s bedside, explaining
how much he was suffering. I’ll never
forget my surprise when Mother
calmly said, “You silly boy, you ought
to know better than to get near poi-
son ivy!”