Jessie Woodrow Wilson Sayre to Margaret Woodrow Wilson

Jessie Woodrow Wilson Sayre to Margaret Woodrow Wilson

Sayre, Jessie Woodrow Wilson, 1887-1933

WWP19569

c. 1912 January

Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum

Wilson family

Woodrow Wilson Presidential Library & Museum staff

English

Dearest Margaret

     Am I not a horrid thing the way I have treated you as to letters? It is certainly true that people who demand things get more than those who don’t. Nell says “I’ll die if you don’t write,” and like lambs we all write. We know we’ll get it if we don’t. With you, who suffer in silence, we know we’ll be safe except for inward pangs of conscience, and you know how over worked th and tired out those pangs have become through years of neglect.
     But I think of you constantly my darling. Did the gold beads reach you in time, and I want to hear all about the concert. Mother, whom I saw yesterday, said she gathered from your modest remarks—like father, you are—that it was a great success. How I wish I could have heard it. Think of my little Meg—having the nerve and confidence—she’s always had the voice—to sing before so many people. I am proud of you. But I want to have seen and heard you do it. You darling child, now be good and store up in your mind every word anybody said about it and tell them to me on Saturday.
     For you are coming home next Saturday or Friday aren’t you. We are all longing for you. Mother said she was going to make you. She wanted you home.
     Warning: Don’t expect Mother to listen to anything, Margaret. I’m worried about her. She walks around in a dream. Nothing but an article about father can galvanize her into attention. In the middle of a Cousin Lucy story she’ll turn away and begin to read. And every thing against him makes her sick. It is dreadful! I think we’ll all have to be as gay and bright as possible and force her attention, demand it, we’ll get it, but it will be an effort on our part and I think it will do her good.
     Now for a confession, Margie. I haven’t sent those things off yet, because there are three packages and you spoke of only one to me. Are they all to go to Elizabeth? Please send a postcard, or in your letter to Mother send me a message, and I’ll send them Friday before you arrive and get them on your mind again. Please forgive me.
     Oh, Margie. I’m coming to New York on Wednesday the 31st but this time I don’t have to spend the night, and even lunch I’ll take with the Committee at Miss Dodge’s. Perhaps later when the Board begins to meet I’ll be spending the night. I hope so. Are Wednesdays inconvenient for you, by the way?
     Sundays without you or Nell are miserable. I have been sinking here at home because its too lonely.
     Last week, late, Skippy came in and I entrusted your jewel box to him. I presume you got it safely with nothing added to or subtracted from its contents.
     Father came home Sunday night just as I was rushing off to the Kemp Smiths for lunch supper and Aas I left on the early train you can imagine how much I saw of him. I had a very nice time at the Smiths, although Mrs. K.S. herself was at the last moment indisposed and couldn’t come down.
     But the excitement of the week and of the social season in Princeton was the dance given by a Committee of the girls, Beth, Ruth Barbara and Mary Scott. It was heavenly. 30 girls, 60 men, every dance broken into shreds and every one delightfully interested and un-stiff. I was exhausted afterwards for I hadn’t danced since the Boston class last winter, not even at Sea Girt.
     Darling, do come home this week! —who adores you even if the absence of letters points other wise. Do you love me?

144 W. Lehigh Ave.

Jessie

Letter

Wilson, Margaret Woodrow, 1886-1944