... Never kept long apart. We spent a beautiful, crisp Sunday at Hyde Park, FDR's home. He was born there (literally, up on the second floor), he spent his childhood there, and he did quite a bit of "presidenting" from there during the Second World War. I'd heard about this place shortly before we moved to the area, and it appealed to the part of me that misses the Civil War battlefields and random historical spots of the greater DC area. (F. Scott Fitzgerald's Grave, anyone? Gettysburg? The Confederate White House?)
I've always been a little fascinated by FDR, and I loved ambling though the house, museum and presidential library. I saw his oval office desk; his bedroom, complete with strangely flamboyant Asian-style robe; and the cape he wore in those pictures you always see of him sitting between Churchill and Stalin at the Yalta conference. I was equally fascinated by the land. Quiet, tree filled, expansive but not ostentatious - no sculpture gardens or gilded fountains - I could picture him pulling up in his Ford Phaeton on a cold fall night, shaking off the stress of his Washington life and slipping into the house.
Library entrance. The lower level showcased his car, complete with a button that, when pushed, produced a lit cigarette. Niiiiice.
Oliver among the changing colors.
I think the sculptor made Eleanor look a bit like a muppet. For shame.
A view from the porch to the backyard
Looking out onto the Hudson River Valley
1 comment:
I adore historic homes. Adore them! I'll have to add FDR's house to my "To Visit" list. If you're ever up around Burlington, Vermont, you must go to the Shelburne Museum. It's not just historic homes, but it's the best museum ever.
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