by Sylvia Plath
Wednesday 4 October 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
2
Dear Mother,
Just a few questions, requests and answers – please send wool socks as soon as possible – I only brought up 2 pairs. Another bulletin board would be fine. I’ll send the stories off when I come home on Thanksgiving. Shall I send my P.J.’s and starched sport shirts home when dirty? I’ve written Warren, Ilo, Bob and Eddie.
Do send up the Nov. Seventeen* when it comes. And don’t worry about me. I’m gradually getting used to this, and will sleep before 10:30 or 11 every week night. Weekends (heh heh) is another matter.
If only I don’t appear as stupid to my profs as I do to myself!
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Wednesday 4 October 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
3
Wednesday night
10:15
Dear Mum –
Don’t worry that I’m sacrificing valuable time. These cards take only a sec. Just before I hop to bed, thought I’d send you a snatch of verse:
Gold leaves shiver
In this crack of time;
Yellow flickers
In the shrill clear sun;
Light skips and dances,
Pirouettes;
While blue above
Leaps the sheer sky.
— —
Gold leaves dangle
In the wind.
Gold threads snap.
— —
In giddy whirls
And sweeps of fancy
Sunlit leaves plane down.
— —
Lisping along the street
In dry and deathless dance,
The leaves on slipshod feet
Advance and swirl
frisk,
dip,
spiral,
circle
twirl.
Brief gold glitters
In the gutters;
Flares and flashes
Husky rushes;
Brisk wind hushes
hushes
hushes.
And in that moment, silent, cold,
across the lawn – dull pools of gold.
S.
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Friday 6 October 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Dear Mother,
Do you suppose by any chance you could send me all my old Seventeen’s? Don’t laugh – I actually need them for my art course. We have to make a scrapbook of texture, line, color, etc. so magazines, unusual photos and adds, are indespensable. The cost of sending them would no doubt be less than buying new ones. Another thing: I just realized how important long sleeved sweaters are. All I have for co-o-old winter days are 1 Bob’s sweatshirt 2 my plaid wool shirt (new) and 3 my gray cardigan. Blouses, pants, skirts aplenty, but no warm sweaters.
Everyone of my teachers is extremely good. French and History (my Waterloo) are fascinating. English and Botany are two sweet men, and Art is a nice man too (Fr & Hist are females.)*
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 8 October 1950*
ALS, Indiana University
Sunday
Dear Mother,
At last I have a moment to write you. It is Sunday morning, 11 o’clock, and I sit curled up in one of my easy chairs in pajamas and bath robe and wool socks (must not get draft on feet) and slippers. Sunday mornings are always lackadaisacal (sp?) One sleeps late, or eats breakfast in p.j.’s, or drifts aimlessly from room to room discussing last night’s date.
As for me, my weekend has been rather unique. Everybody in the house has colds. Coughing and sneezing echoes up and down the halls. So Thursday I went to bed early with the prophetic sore throat. Friday morning, feeling very hot and miserable, I got up, dressed, and went to the Doctor’s Office. Nothing like getting initiated into the procedure early, I always say. She told me I had post nasal drip, to gargle with salt, sniff Salt water up my nose, take 2 cold pills 3 times a day, take troches etc. So I went home with all my directions and crawled into bed. The day is rather a blank. I got a yellow slip which excused me from classes, and in the process I called Bill Gallup who was very understanding. He refused my gallant offer to get him a blind date and said he would come over to see me if I could get up for a little. So in the evening I donned my red jersey & black velvet skirt and went down to the front room for a while. I was amazed to find that my first enthusiasm for him had cooled completely. As Eddie Cohen analyzed my sentiments!* I had confided so openly in him because I was rather terrified at being in a world indifferent to me and I wanted quite desperately to find security some where. Eddie, as he often does, hit the nail on the head. I looked at Bill in a different light, and realized that he had served his purpose. Any sensitive quiet boy would have done. So I accepted tentatively a date for next Saturday, and doubt very much if I will go. However, I enjoyed myself. I went to bed at 10. Yesterday I was at my worst. I woke up early after a horrible nightmarish sleep, and my morning class stared me in the face. I had slept through breakfast. I couldn’t face the thought of a football game. Ugh! And yet I wanted so to meet this boy. So when my senior acquaintance who had arranged the date came in with two of my freshman friends, I burst into tears (Dear me, how pathetic can we get.) Before I knew what was happening, I was undressed, back in bed, sipping a pot of hot tea and eating an apple, listening to conversation and feeling much less homesick. The girls were simply dear – I had two meals in bed. The girl with whom I was to double-date went to the game, and Austin* had decided not to go and was going to stay with Monte* (the senior) and talk. So Monte told me if I felt well enough to come down and meet him. By this time life looked almost rosy. I felt better with two meals in my stomach and nosedrops up my nose, so I donned my red skirt and the gray sweater ensemble and made my way down.
If you could meet Austin Kenefick your heart would be lost. He is the dearest boy – just eighteen, very unspoiled and quite delightful. He reminds me very strongly of Perry. Of course he is nowhere as good-looking – he’s tall, with a raw-boned freckled face, brown hair, ugly in his youthful awkwardness at times, but at other times beautiful in his sincerity. I was enchanted by his open-ness. We got started talking under the supervision of Monte, who then thoughtfully disappeared. For the whole afternoon – 1-6, we talked, sometimes joining in with other couples in the room, sometimes being by ourselves. I listened to him tell me about Dorothy (why do I inspire boys to tell me their stories?) and I told him about the story in Seventeen. That impressed him. He said he knew alot of girls who gushed about writing, but to get something published – well! He also was familiar with Margot MacDonald.* He enjoys sketching. He told me about The Blue something* – that restaurant on the wharf in Boston with the bottle candles? and he went to Culver, knew John Hall’s two roommates who went their and was very friendly with two of Perry’s roommates who were in his class.
Like Perry, he is quite articulate, but more poetically so. Nothing suave or polished about him – just a delighfully gangling innocent boy, which is so refreshing. Evidently this Dorothy still hurts him some, and he was quite amazed to find that I liked trees with sun shining through and clouds and water. He wanted to go for a walk because we could talk better, but good girl that I was, I stayed in the house. He stayed for dinner, and then he & Monte wanted me to see “The Titan”* with them. I wanted so to go, but decided to go to bed early. So he said goodbye, leaving me a play by Christopher Fry* to read. I don’t know just how I impressed him, but I’d love to see him again. I would very much like to find someone with whom I could escape the party whirl & glitter.
So I went to bed, rather tired from my day, the cold pills making me feel queer. All the other freshmen had gone to the big acquaintance dance between the big 4 men’s colleges. Damn. But since Austin was here I wouldn’t have gone anyway. And Austin
was so thoughtful to stay with me all afternoon. He has none of Perry’s stiffness – I wish you could see him.
So today, my head stuffed and very hard, I will try to do homework. Someday I think I’ll have my sinuses drained, they’re so packed.
Another thing – how do you take off those typewriter ribbon caps? The ribbon is all tangled up. The heat here is awfully dry. Should I get one of those containers of water to hang behind the radiator?
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Monday 9 October 1950*
ALS, Indiana University
Monday
Dear Mummy,
No doubt you are wondering about my present condition. As nasty as it is to have a sinus cold at the present moment, I have become philosophical and decided that it is a challenge. As comforting as it would be to crawl sniffily into your arms and have you tell me what to do, relieving me of all responsibility, I realize that now is the time for me to learn to be master of myself.
Today is mountain day. In a way I’m sorry. In a way I’m glad. I didn’t feel like facing 5 hours of classes. I wanted very much to go to mountain climbing. All my friends have either gotten dressed to kill and headed to Yale & Dartmouth, or packed a picnic & headed off on a bike trip. I decided I was well enough for neither. Rather than stay in my lonely bed, I have taken a chair and footstool out on our 3rd floor piazza and am basking in the sun. It is an Indian summer day – blue-skied, leaves golden, falling. Some girls are studying – some few. So I sit here, sheltered, the sun warming me inside. And life is good. Out of misery comes joy, clear and sweet. I feel that I am learning. I will rest today, take a nap perhaps. Go to bed early. I was in at 9 last night. I almost welcome this quiet solitude, since I feel still too shaky for much energetic work.
I am making the most of the day that I can in my circumstances. What sense to mourn and spoil these lovely sunny hours? I can’t do everything.
As for nylon sweaters – I do love them. A pull-over would be lovely. Of course a white cardigan would complete my white piqué dress for that WHITE Dress ensemble. Thanks for the pictures and the spray. Did I tell you Ilo promised to send some of his paintings to brighten my room?
Another thing – wool undershirts would be very sensible & welcome. (My, how I’ve swallowed my pride.) I’ve dropped Warren a letter, but haven’t heard from him yet. How I love that boy!
Your cards are so sweet & sunny. Eddie and Ilo are writing very encouragingly and sustainingly. I love them both. I’ve gotten two notes from Bob, too.
This Austin was a sweet boy, but he evidently likes short blondes, so I fear I must either cut my self in two, or be sweet to Bill Gallup, who evidently has taken quite a fancy to me. He was talking to some girls over at Amherst about me this Sat., and one of them said later, “My deah, you made a great impression on him.” Naturally I blushed modestly.
God, today is lovely. My cold is still runny, but with plenty of sleep & nosedrops I should be well rid of it soon. By the way, do you suck those buffered penicillin, or swallow with water? Next time I’m ill I don’t want to kill myself by taking them the wrong way!
Cheerio!
sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 10 October 1950*
ALS, Indiana University
Tuesday,
Dear Mother,
Well today it poured – a fitting follow-up to mountain day. I went from class to class quite dry – bundled up in raincoat, raindana, overshoes and umbrella (loaned by a housemate.) Tomorrow I intend to purchase a slicker, which I can probably get under $10. Did I tell you that my art supplies cost $10 and that the art lab fee is the same?
Your two packages arrived today, for which I thank you.
As for my cold, it has dried up, leaving me a bit tired. I intend to be in bed early every night, though, I went to the D.O. again today, and had her paint my throat. They took a slide of a blister they thought might be (ugh!) Trenchmouth. Of course it wasn’t, but at least I gave them a scare.
You say you might come up on a Saturday. Nothing would give me more pleasure. At a time when the pace of college life was a little too strong & swift for my rundown constitution, I thought of coming home for a day of enjoyable calm.
However, I don’t know just how wise you think that is. Perhaps the travel would be too long to make a Saturday night & Sunday at home worthwhile? But I’d love to take off.
I could always come on a bus after my 1:00 class Sat. and leave after supper Sunday evening. Perhaps you could send me a bus schedule.
On the other hand, it might be wiser for you to come here – yet in my present state, I might be even more likely to miss you after you’d gone.
History is going to require a lifetime of study. My schedule now is study = sleep; study, sleep. Perhaps you could send me a few A & D vitamins. Everyone has colds, coughs etc. In class, in the dorm, we are constantly exposed. I certainly can’t afford another siege. After all, I want to be a bit more sociable with the girls here. It’s getting so they ask where I keep myself. But I’ve got to spend every available minute (and there aren’t too many of those–) studying. Tell me if you can see – my coming home for a day – or what day you can come up. I really could do with a day of sleep & study that home could offer. But since I’m on the mend and doing all I can to take care of my self, don’t worry about me.
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 10 October 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Tuesday night
1
Dear Mother–
If you could see me – curled up in my cosy room, the light bringing out the rich maroons and blues and light maples – my throat is the only reminder of my cold. And as I munch cookies I forget even that. It’s warm, cosy, and homey. A soph just dropped in and gave me a few hints about my first Eng. paper. Botany & English I hope to do well in. I would like to know a good weekend to come home on – I could rest, visit with you & study history. Just now the school work seems endless. Perhaps history goes on forever. I don’t see how girls can play bridge in the livingroom all night . . . For these first months I’m going to study every chance I get. I’ll have enough chance to be “seen around” more, once I see how my 1st semester grades pan out. I’ll be amazed if I get one A.
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 10 October 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Tuesday night
2
Dear Mum –
These postcards are getting to be a habit. How about my dropping home Sat. October 21? Monday, October 30, is our first hour history written, & I could go to bed early Sat. the 21 (which I couldn’t do here – dates you know – noise till 1 AM.) and study & organize notes most of Sunday in peace and family surroundings. It sounds ideal to me. I think it might help me make order out of the chaos of barbarian civilization, plus seeing that favorite person of mine for a while (You, of course)
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 12 October 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Thursday
Dear Mother–
How nice to get your cheerful letter! I was so sorry to hear about your cold – do be good & rest – don’t work at those “jobs around the house” too hard. As for me, I have a throat canker & a slight temp. I have run into a nice doctor at the D.O. She’s painting & spraying me up in fine shape. So I hope I can still go to classes, tho’, and not get stuck in the infirmary.* I have decided to cut my Fr. class Sat. Oct 21 and come home Fri night. The bus I want to take should get to W. Hills by 9 PM Fri. Oct 20. I’d love to see you, and whereas if you came up here I’d be seeing you all the time & not working, if I come home I can work & rest and see you. Sounds fine, huh? Your letters, just now, are a sustaining life force. It poured again today, so
for $11.60 I bought a red slicker & a big black waterproof hat. I will take back an umbrella when I come home. We’re reading short stories in Eng– they’re terrific – can’t wait to see you – only 9 more days –
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 15 October 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Sunday
Dear Mum–
Well, they let me out of the institution for dinner at the house today. I sleep at the infirm tonight, and should be discharged for good tomorrow A.M. I plan to have a dentist look at my tooth which hurts when I breath cold air on it. I don’t want to have it decayed by Thanksgiving. Gosh, it’s nice to get a glimpse of my room again. Can’t wait to come back for good. Got a letter from that brother of mine today. Very sweet. I probably won’t come home till Thanksgiving. $5 could well be saved till this winter, when I plan to make a few trips back. So many girls here like to write. One frosh sends out piles of stuff. I’m dying to know if she gets much in print. Save dear old Den of Lions till Thanksgiving. I’d love to get it in. Just to prove I’m really competition. Typed my brief 4 pg. Eng. theme* in bed last night while waiting for the ENEM to take effect
– Love –
Syl
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Monday 16 October 1950*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Mon. 8:30 A.M.
Dear Mum–
Gosh, life is wonderful. I signed out of the infirmary just 20 minutes ago. As nice as it was to have my last breakfast in bed, I won’t miss being waited on at all. It was so good to leave the sterilized hall, nurses pushing trays of nosedrops, gargles, etc. from door to door, and walk out into the early crisp October sunshine with my green suitcase. Striding down the street, I passed a young, handsome Phillipino boy walking books in hand, obviously luxuriating in the morning. We exchanged smiles of complete and happy understanding. I can’t wait to catch up on my work. It’s really too bad there isn’t more time to get out-of-doors, but I make the most of what I have. Smith is the most beautiful college on earth. I’m sure that in some months I will cease to see only the trees instead of the forest. As yet I’m not settled enough to pass judgement on my wonderful surroundings. Everything is here. It’s up to me to discover & choose.