Eleanor Roosevelt – Author Sarah Angleton

In 1936, Eleanor Roosevelt wrote in her nationally syndicated news column, My Day: “I wonder if anyone else glories in cold and snow without, an open fire within, and the luxury of a tray of food all by oneself in one’s own room? I realize it sounds extremely selfish and a little odd to look upon this as a festive occasion. Nevertheless, last night was a festive occasion for I spent it in this way!”

Eleanor Roosevelt, Public Domain via Wikimedia Commons

This from a woman who gave more than three hundred press conferences in her role as First Lady, served as a delegate in the United Nations, and averaged more than a hundred speaking engagements a year throughout her life in public service. In her own words, she was an “ugly duckling” who was a “shy, solemn child,” who eventually grew into the woman who insisted you should “do one thing every day that scares you.”

But even though Mrs. Roosevelt clearly conquered her shyness, she still enjoyed a quiet evening by herself from time to time, indicating that this first lady was probably a pretty good example of an introvert.

That’s not the same thing as shy, of course, though the two may go hand in hand. Introversion is a personality trait that demands moments of quiet introspection. The introvert may actually enjoy a good party or press conference as much as her buddy the extrovert. The difference is that after the speech has been given, the crowd has dispersed, and the extrovert is all keyed up and on the lookout for the next party, the introvert is feeling the need for a festive night in with a tray.

I totally feel Eleanor on this one. I am not a particularly shy person. Maybe I was when I was younger, though I’m happy to say I never really considered myself an ugly duckling. I generally enjoy getting to know others and I’m sure I could manage a good press conference if I ever had to. But after that’s all done, I tend to be pretty exhausted. And boy am I tired right now.

If you’ve been reading this blog for the last few weeks, then you already know I’m in the throes of a book launch. It’s going well. Compared to previous book launches I’ve done, it’s actually going really well. By that I mean there seem to be actual real people that I don’t personally know, buying and reading my book.

I’m sure it helps that this is the fifth book I’ve sent out into the world. and maybe just maybe I’m getting better at it. For this one especially, I spent a minute or two over the past several months lining up promotional opportunities, most of which have been more or less panning out now that the time is finally here. Because the book has a timely and local connection, I’ve lucked into a few opportunities as well. And then there’s my wonderful launch team that has been enthusiastically and generously hyping the novel all over social media.

I am truly grateful that because of these efforts, this book is off to a good start, winding its way into the hands of a wider audience than I’ve ever reached before. In many ways, I am living in a lovely literary daydream. I’m also fairly overwhelmed at all the attention coming at me and my book, which is kind of my introvert nightmare.

I just need like one minute and then we can talk about the book again. Image by Hans Kretzmann from Pixabay

There’s a part of me (a big part, if I’m being honest) that might rather everyone just go back to their previously scheduled lives and ignore me and my book as we curl up to enjoy a festive night in.

Of course I don’t really want that. I do want people to read the book. It’s just that because I have strong introvert tendencies, I’m tired and also totally excited to know readers are discovering the book and engaging with it and with me, and I’m tired and I’m enthusiastic and I’m tired and I’m grateful, and I’m tired.

Yeah, it’s been a long couple of weeks. If you’d like to see me doing one thing that scares me, you can hop over to the Paradise on the Pike book page and check out my first ever live radio interview on local station NewsTalkSTL, which didn’t end up being as scary as I thought it might be. You go on ahead without me. I’m just going to take a minute to sit with a tray in my room.

In 1937, author Ernest Hemingway ate the worst meal of his life. It consisted of “rainwater soup followed by rubber squab, a nice wilted salad, and a cake” provided by “an enthusiastic, but unskilled admirer.” The man did have a way with words. This delectable meal was served to him at the White House, historically known as a center for culinary excellence, but just then developing a reputation for the opposite.

Lots of visitors had voiced similar complaints and it was becoming commonplace to go ahead and order a pizza before heading to dinner with Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt. I don’t know how the Roosevelts felt about that, but when it happens at my house, I admit to some hurt feelings.

Ernest Hemingway enjoying what was probably not the worst meal of his life. unattributed, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

I hope I do better than rubber squab and rainwater soup, but my picky children might say otherwise and it’s not uncommon for them to try to grab something else with their friends on casserole night, making me wonder why I bother.

I suppose it’s for more or less the same reason Eleanor Roosevelt did. Her partner in the crime of assaulting the tastebuds in the White House was her dear friend Henrietta Nesbitt who, much like the rest of Depression Era America had fallen on hard times. To help out, the first lady hired her friend as head housekeeper for the first family. As the formerly wealthy wife of a formerly wealthy husband, Nesbitt knew a thing or two about managing a household. She was, however, a terrible cook.

Henrietta Nesbitt, who once served hot dogs and beer to the king of England, making her kind of a hero. Harris & Ewing, photographer, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Nesbitt’s first order of business was to overhaul the White House kitchen, which she did admirably, bringing its equipment into the modern era and creating more space and better workflow. Then she set about designing the kind of meals that would be an example to the households of America on how to eat healthfully and frugally in the midst of the kind of economic turmoil that causes long breadlines and literal starvation.

According to Eleanor Roosevelt herself, Nesbitt’s careful management allowed for the average two-course meal at the White house to cost less than ten cents, no matter who was dining. King George VI was allegedly served hot dogs and beer when he visited, and though his poor wife didn’t quite know what to make of the curious meal, the king seemed to enjoy it.

The White House food, though terrible by comparison to previous administrations and all those since, really probably wasn’t that different than what was being scraped together and served in most American households. Many were even looking to the White House for ideas on how to stretch their dwindling food budgets, which is exactly what Eleanor Roosevelt had hoped would happen.

Fortunately, we’re not living through a Great Depression, at least in this moment. Still, food costs are rising quickly and I do feel a responsibility to teach my children, now teenagers not so far from the day when they will stretch their wings and try to make it out in the world on their own, that one can eat simply and healthfully and frugally when the pizza money runs out.

Maybe the message is getting through. Or maybe they’re complaining behind my back about wilted salad.

Just a note: Though my creativity is still shining in the kitchen, on the written page I am dealing with a little bit of burnout. Because of that, I’m going to take a short break from posting in this space. I’ll still be around, visiting blogs and responding to comments and hopefully will be up and writing again soon.