Description
2632 Woodley Place Monday 9:20 p.m. Darling - I've just come from picking up my trunk at the station, transferring the contents of your erstwhile footlocker to it at 1710 F Street, picking up a few books and presenting the remains (with apologies to you) to Joe and Mabel. You’d enjoy the streetcar ride from here to the station because much of it is through one of Washington's many Darktowns. Somehow it is easier to feel the pathos of a people - any people - in a colony of negroes: they are at no pains to hide their human vices and virtues and one feels that, at least amongst themselves, they are the least hypercritical of a people in the truest sense. So often they have a dignity that we lack, and more humor; they make me feel at times the poverty of a white collar existence and I seem to be watching a rich and varied canvas that has come to life. Perhaps above all, they inspire a generous feeling. Do you ever wonder whether the Good life, the best imaginable human society, should consist (a purely hypothetical conjecture) of simple, direct, and generous behavior or whether (in the individual - as it is bound to be in society, any-[pg. 2] how it should be complex, intricate and varied? Because my own moods are unstable and [?tudinous] (not a denunciation but just a realization) I am not always reconciled in fancy to those aspects of character which I most admire in others; I find myself questioning whether it is even desirable to be the things which make for strength and purposefulness and integration, on the grounds that such things are not subtle, or boring; but of course they are never so when you meet them in someone who truly exemplifies them. Often I feel the weakness of my position and then I try to counter it by thinking, man is not a machine, nor should he bend his purposefulness to the end of serving as machinery. Nevertheless, in the highly organized society we live in today as well as in the even more highly organized one we must have tomorrow if we and our culture are to survive, the discipline that holds one to a routine task is inevitable. Or so run my thoughts; and after they cover much more ground than I suggest in [pg 3] this snatch; once upon a time they depressed me, but they rather intrigue me now. I don't mean that in a flighty sense, for living is to me incomplete unless it is expressed in thought or sentience, however inadequately. (And by all means I exclude from these experiences the vicious short-circuit of self-consciousness, that dishonest groping by people who are afraid.) The office is still topsy-turvy; desks and more desks are moved two or three times during the day. With the heavy files being hauled in piecemeal and carefully re-established over a girder where they will not crash through the floor; but somehow we manage to settle down to work. At our new address (still a telephone, but the old one will do for the time) we are removed from our erstwhile* recent coffee supply, not by fault of transportation but because we formerly shared a pot with another staff and in order to get coffee now must buy one ourselves for $3. So far, no takers. Got back my laundry today and they do (*$2.98 word; good only once in a letter) [pg 4] an exceptionally nice job - better than [Mo?] when we first sent things there. 10¢ for khaki shirts, which generally are more than the others. I've a trade last for us - Mrs. Kern told me tonight that Toni told her we were the nicest people they knew in Boulder. Incidentally, I've just made out as of today - 5/22-a check for $23 which Mrs. Kern can have cashed for me. It's about time I unpacked that suitcase and got to bed. Sleeping without you isn't much fun just a blank - but going to bed on time does help make the day's work go more easily. Goodnight, Precious Warren
