Washington, DC
309 5th St. SE
July 28, 1919

Dear Classmates,

Truly this robin is a gallant bird even tho he somehow skipped me in his flight three years ago and it has been seven long years since he alighted at my door, with his wonderful parcel of letters. And this time, he finds me rather busy, as we are preparing to take flight ourselves, in a couple of days, children, dog and luggage, for a month’s vacation, somewhere. Now you all know something of the many things which need to be done before a whole family gets started on a vacation, so you will readily understand I have not had time to read these letters as leisurely as I should like and I have less time in which to write one worthy to be incorporated in such as illustrious volume.

These letters are surely an interesting collection. Invariably one sees history in the making, glimpses of the great war drama played out, here the gathering of the clouds, there the bursting of the storm, the marvelous works for defense, then the rainbow of peace and how we do hope it is the real rainbow pledge of permanent peace, all intermingled with little bits of philosophy, quaint words of wisdom, childhood anecdotes, and a little bit of everything under the sun.

For the past four years I have been living in Washington, almost within the shadow of the capitol, so I will add my historical bit by talking something of Washington in war time. A little over two years ago, I heard the bells and horns and sirens, all over the city, sound forth the news that Congress had declared war. Then for a week at nights the capitol, with its towering majestic figure and flags pointed to the four points of the compass, was bathed in a wonderful brilliant light that made it stand out like alabaster against the dark sky, a symbol to all beholders of American purity of purpose and our ideals.

I saw the French war commission, the first of many, take its cruise down historic Pennsylvania Ave. Soon we saw Washington change from a peaceful country town to a busy world center. War workers thronged in by the thousands, buildings sprang up as if by magic, and on all sides was hustle and bustle. The churches everywhere were centers for dissemination of war literature and food conservation pamphlets; also for demonstrations and Red Cross work, for war work drives and bond campaigns, and living as we do adjoining the church our whole household was kept busy. I will not rehearse these but go on to speak of what has been quite properly called 'Mad Thursday' that great day when the people sensed the fact that the war was about to end and every where the throngs went wild with joy. Then with great suspense we waited until the news arrived that the armistice had been signed, and then joyously we celebrated all over again. The day for which we had long hoped and prayed came, the last gun was fired, but great are the problems that remain, [?World (policies) reconstruction, conformations?, restitutions.?] I will not undertake to even speculate about them, but there are some minor problems with which we now will have to deal. Mary Taylor has mentioned one: our daily round of work that must be done with no servants to aid. Truly it is a tremendous task for those who live in large rambling house originally built to be manned by three or more servants. And even you who have convenient, compact house with up to date equipment and try to be everything to your families, it seems to me you are doing too much. Surely there are better days ahead, community kitchens, cooperative nurseries, outdoor vocational classes for older children, and a chance for even a mother to develop her particular gifts. But no doubt we have got to take a lead in bringing these good things about; so let the organizers organize and the reformers reform.

Since my last letter to Round Robin, there has come to join our home a little daughter, Lois, now three years old. A little daughter, who, I am hoping may someday put into practice some of the theories and ideals that circumstances have not allowed her mother to try out; but now and then when I came upon her standing in front of a mirror and smearing powder on her tiny face, an art her mother never well learned, I wonder if she is going to be what Josephine Bacon calls a reversion to type. She is quite devoted to her brother Phelps Jr., now nearly nine and as lively as ever.

It is a great pleasure to hear about all the happy families and to look at the cunning pictures. With no disparagement to the rest of you, I must say that Mollie’s family is stunning, but perhaps if we would all get dressed up and have our pictures taken like that, we could get an an endowment for an arts gallery on the strength of it.

Before I close I want to congratulate you all, both married and those calling themselves unattached, on the splendid work you are doing, so

Here’s to you my classmates, comrades tried and true.
Here’s to your noble husbands and your prospective husbands too.
Here’s to the jolly youngsters that from these pages smile
Sometimes bringing chaos yet making life worth while.
Drink, first, to the tiniest little babe that graces our class family tree,
Luring our hearts with its puckered smile and promise of things to be.
Then drink to our merry manly boys, frolicking on life’s way
And then to our darling daughters, whom Goucher will bear some day.
Now to our Alma Mater, let us give her all her due.
And here’s to Dr. Shefloe and Mrs. Shefloe here’s to you.
And here’s to Dr. Goucher, fond memory hold him dear.
And here’s to President Guth, still building year by year.
So now my friends of college days, bring memory to your aid
In fancy let us stand once more, In Goucher Hall so grand
Recall to mind each smiling face we loved in days of yore.
As We’ll sing a song and give a cheer for dear old Baltimore.
Then lift high your glasses, comrades, filled with waters sparkling cold,
We’ll drink a toast to all we’ve named of wealth and joy untold.
Health, Happiness, prosperity, success in all you do,
Here’s to you, here’s to you, here’s to you.

Clara Robinson Hand

Handwritten Excerpt (16 KB)