by Sylvia Plath
I hate the idea of missing three days of classes, especially as I have a written Friday and a big paper* Monday, but I knew if I stayed around the house that I’d never get enough sleep or the right food. You should see how pampered I am up here! Orange juice with icecubes three times a day, and steaming trays of delicious salads and broths. The nosedrops are wonderful, and I’ve had my head packed once (and Dick wonders where I got my fat nose!)
Today the runny part has stopped, and I feel fine, except for a little occasional mucous. So I’ll be back at Haven tomorrow. Marcia has brought me mail and written me notes every day.
Got your dress, and must shed a tear as I send it back. Funny, but it is exactly the same material and color as the one Marcia and I bought for the same price, only mine has a much prettier style, as I drew, and doesn’t emphasize flat collarbones as this one does. It is indeed ironic & tantalizing to be in bed on the first day “17” hits the newsstands!
Dick came on Saturday at 1:30 as I was feeling the first impact of my cold. Luckily I had tried to bake it in the sun that morning, so my face had a ruddy sunburnt glow. I really had fun exercising “mind over matter” and walking out in the hills with him. We had dinner at Wiggin’s, as you suggested, only I had a huge fruit salad and sherbet, as that was all I could swallow. We walked back to Haven and Dick left on the 8 o’clock train after a delightful afternoon.
I told Bob Humphrey to come over anyway, and in a brief half hour before I left for the Infirmary, I tried to make him see how much I liked him and how sorry I was about spoiling Sunday. He asked me to a beach party in Gloucester this weekend, but I said no as I will be up to my ears in make-up work, not to mention the fact that I want to devote my all to making the last Yale weekend in my life the best one yet – which will demand a rested, care free spirit.
I really will miss Warren an awful lot this summer – it seems in this whirlwind of action there is no time left to savor the people who mean the most. All one can do as one races around the squirrel cage is write a note or two. I do hope that in the week during exams, and the two weeks after, I can see you and learn a little about babies. I wish I didn’t have to work all summer just so I can work all the rest of the year. The Theory of the Leisure Class is fine only so long as you’re a member of the aristocracy. When you aren’t a member* of the nobility, you might as well revolt and institute a classless state. (Your reply, I suppose, will be to count my blessings.)
I am enclosing my watch with the dress. The band has frayed to bits and it has stopped again. The man I took it to down here said it runs very badly and unevenly, and that there is a big space between the case and the winder where dust and dirt can get in.
Do wish me luck on making up my various Botany labs and history classes. I’ll have to study doubly hard between May 24 and May 31 to make up for all this forced leisure now.
I didn’t have a chance to write Mrs. Ford, but I’ll see Miss Mensel as soon as I get out of this place . . .
Be good to yourself, and don’t worry about me – I’ve only a scant 33 more days to go –
Love,
Sivvy
P.S. Your news about Warren bothered me – I had sent him a silly Birthday card and letter, hoping to cheer him up, but I don’t know if he cares about getting things from me or not. What time does he get out of school? Could you and I plan to go up there sometime after June 2? I’d like a chance to see Exeter and my bruvver again.
Remind me to learn how to mend holes in socks & darn when I come home. I can’t let Marcia show me up in everything domestic. Also, I don’t want to be a slave to practicalities. If I’m going to have to do these things for myself when I get a job, I might as well learn how to do them efficiently in the least time possible.
Dick still has me baffled. He acts so queerly at times that I could swear he is two different people. I really wonder if his jovial heartiness and occasional annoying jolliness isn’t a sort of cover-up for a certain uneasiness. Oh, well, you know him better than I do!
Love,
Sivvy
I hate the idea that I have to marry someone short so that my children won’t be Gargantua’s – Bob H. is such a lovely height for me – makes me feel so petite!
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Wednesday 2 May 1951
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Wednesday
Dear Mum . . .
Well, it sure is good to get back again! The leaves are beginning to come out, and the whole campus is just beautiful. I still “sound” nosy, but aside from feeling a little wobbly, I am fine – even got a slight tan from lying on the infirmary sundeck. I sneaked into a drugstore after my first class today and bought a copy of THE Magazine. Ghastly illustration, wot? However, I kind of like the raw, picasso-ish feeling. Wonder how tall the cute male artist* is? The sweetest thing happened – a gal I know in the cooperative house sent me a rose on my “publication day.” I was just touched. Of course I am a week behind in all my subjects – but after the Botany exam Friday & the English paper I should be able to take it easy till exam time – see you Friday, May 25 –
Love,
Sivvy
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 6 May 1951*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Dear Mum –
Say nice fat epistles – but your last one was (shades of John Hall!) I was quite amused to receive your comments on the story along with Eddie’s and Dick’s.* Dick, I think, was perhaps a bit impressed – and actually said he liked it. He is such a dear – I got a charming long letter from him all about it – saying how he showed the thing to various and sundry of his friends. Eddie was also surprisingly sweet and laudatory, and his criticisms were all extremely valid. It’s funny, but he said some things that I had never thought of – about how he thought it should have gotten 1st, but 17 probably put it on a lower level because of the fuzzy characterization of Emile and the not-strong-enough explanation of Marcia’s decision. He also thought the metaphors were “lovely writing” but too overdone – inhibiting straight action & dialogue. I can’t say it as well as he did – but I can see his points completely. As for me, I think practice will help me grasp even larger situations. This new experience with children might prove writable, too.
I am guilty of making a few clothes purchases this am, but all of them are sensible, versatile, and very nice. I got a full navy cotton skirt which can be dressed up or down with all my blouses – a white tailored casual no sleeve blouse – a yellow tucked one of dressier proportions and a must for this summer – a neat two-piece white Jantzen bathing suit to alternate with my flowered one: prices:
white blouse 2.98
yellow blouse 2.98
navy skirt 5.95
bathing suit 8.95
20.86
I also am “making” a brown skirt (under the careful supervision of a friend) to take the place of the shiny skimpy one at home, so my mix-and-match separates have really proved quite economical. I have outgrown the frilly high school stage, tra la la.
See you soon
Love,
Sivvy
P.S. Got a lovely letter from Mrs. Mayo – who says the children are telling everyone proudly that “Sylvia is coming to stay with us this summer!”
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tuesday 8 May 1951*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Tuesday
Dear Mother –
Sometimes I think the gods have it in for me – things have been much too smooth and placid so far. Anyhow, I’m over my cold, pretty well caught up in everything except Art, when bang!
I got my program pretty well settled for next year with my advisor (who is also my Botany teacher), when as I was striding cheerfully and skippingly out of his office I slipped on the smooth stone floor and fell on my ankle,
which gave a nasty and protesting crunch. The train of events involved my throwing my arms about dear Mr. Wright’s neck and getting him to half-carry me downstairs to his car. The doctor taped it, and I had it ex-rayed this morning for a possible break.
Needless to say, what with a huge Eng. paper due tomorrow and this divine weekend tottering in the balance, I feel all too close to tears. But self-pity isn’t appreciated by people who have the use of their two feet, so I swallowed my salty sobs & grin bravely.
If it’s a break, I’ll have to have a cast. That would definitely finish the idea of my going anywhere. If it’s only a bad sprain, I’ll call dick and ask him if I can limp down. If he doesn’t want me down, I’ll ask him up, and if he doesn’t want me either way, he’s a bad doctor and a poor sport.
Seriously, I will ask for Mondays off – because there is nothing I’d rather do than see Dick. I really do think he’s the most stimulating boy I’ve ever known, and I don’t care much about anybody else anyway. I suppose I might be conservative and say that I adore him and worship his intellect and keen perceptions in almost every field. But I still think that if he ever saw me with noseguards on, flailing impotently in the water or with skates on, standing on my ankles, that his enthusiasm in my direction might cool rapidly. I don’t know why I let abnormal deficiencies like that bother me, but they do, and I can’t see how any modern boy as athletic as Dick could bear a girl as uncoordinated as I am.
However, I have a rather odd feeling that the more I see Dick the more I like him and the more I like him the more I want to show him things and get his reactions on things. Of course I could always play safe and withdraw myself into a protective little shell so I won’t feel too sad when he wearies of my company and browses in greener fields. Ah, me!
As for the 25th – I get out of my Botany exam at 5 pm. So If you could possibly drive up and take most of my things home, I could stay till the next Wednesday night or Thursday morning – Because my History exam is on Friday, June 1, and my French the next day. I’ll have to study madly all the time I’m home, but out in the sun of our quiet backyard, I should think it would be rather pleasant – especially with my dear mummy around.
Dick said he might possibly say hello that weekend. But as he is going away with Perry from the 3rd to the 8th, I don’t see how he could be languishing from the idea of a long absence & separation!
I’m seeing Miss Mensel this afternoon – wish me luck!
Pray it’s not a break, dear mummy! And if so, I will keep my chin up!
If you ever want to call me, try between six and seven, as I am usually here for supper.
Love you very much,
Sivvy
TO Ann Davidow-Goodman
Wednesday 9 May 1951*
ALS, Smith College
Dear Davy –
It is a bright blue Wednesday morning in May, and I am sitting in a halter on the Haven House porch, courting a tan. Speaking of bad correspondants---you’re listening to one right this very minute. I do have one or two excuses – not that I want to burden you with my troubles, or anything. First, I spent a week in the infirmary with another one of my annual spring sinus colds. I had gone shopping with Marcia on a Friday, and Dick (THE man) was coming up for Saturday afternoon. (I had pulled a shrewd deal and got myself a date for Sat. night & Sunday, too, so when I began to feel queer Friday night, I went to bed, hopefully swallowing a handful of cold pills. No soap! Saturday I began to burn, but I bravely met Dick and pretended I was fine – so we tramped the hills all afternoon and I treated him to dinner at Wiggin’s. By that time, all I could swallow was ice cream. When he left at eight, all my false energy suddenly left, too, and I collapsed with a slight fever. I met my next date, told him how nice he was, and left for the infirmary. Poor guy, I don’t know what he did with himself for the rest of the weekend! Hope he picked up another girl!
So I came back from my sojurn last Wednesday, with make-up work piled shoulder high. But that was O.K. being I was dateless & could work this weekend & going to Yale with Dick on the 11th (Gosh, don’t I sound popular! Heh-heh!) So what happens? I am in talking about next year’s program with Mr. Wright, my advisor, and leaving his office very gaily, with a little skip. And what happens to the graceful little ox? Her slippery-soled loafers skid on the polished stone floor, and she falls with the loudest crash imagineable, her ankle crunching queerly as she sits on it. Now isn’t that annoying – after making such a fashionable exit, to have your advisor have to rush out, pick you up off the floor and half carry you to the D.O.? I still am hoping the damn sprain will be walkable by this weekend so I can see Dick. Just when I wanted to look my best I have to have an ankle three times normal size!
Now to tell you how surprised and thrilled I was to get a letter from Boulder! Honey, you are so traveled! And it sounded like the divinest time. Jim is a cutie – and I hope everything stays as nice as it is.
By the way pu-lease let me know how your college applications came out. It would be heaven to have you back – whether you had a Freshman rate or whatever! Carol Pierson has left, too, and may have to come back the same way. Carol left way back at the beginning of April because she had a heart murmur or something. Anyhow, she’s missed piles of exams & papers, and so I doubt if she’ll be able to take finals or even catch up unless she goes to summer school or something. Do try to make it though! It would be so wonderful to see you again, baby!
I’m all at sea about money problems, as usual – not getting as much help financially as I did this year. I’ll probably have to end up in a co-operative house in my junior or senior year. Oh, well! They say the best things in life are free! I’m not so sure.
Did I tell you that I ACTUALLY SAW EDDIE? I’ll tell you how it happened anyway, just in case. I had just come back from my last class before spring vacation, & was all set to drive home with Barb Michelsen in an hour, when someone called “Oh, Syl. There’s a boy to see you!” so I walked unsuspectingly into the livingroom, and there was this strange, dark-haired guy standing with a pipe gripped tightly between his teeth. “This is the third dimension,” he said, just like in a play or something. So he said he’d come to drive me home. So, fool that I am, I threw all my suitcases in his father’s nash, and we were off. The funny thing is, Ann, that even though he could talk to me about my private life more authentically than any of my friends, I just couldn’t get used to the idea that this physical stranger was the guy I’d written such confidential letters to. I couldn’t get rid of the impression that he was just some taxi driver off the street. So all during the three hour drive home I was very nervous not quite sure whether or not I would ever reach my destination and petrified as to what my mother would say if she saw me coming up the walk with Eddie, who she never wanted me to meet. So I did a very stupid thing. I told him I was in love with a guy from home & couldn’t go out with anyone else. Also I was very rude and didn’t even invite him in because I was so scared about mother. Turned out she was cross – not at Ed, but at my “lack of hospitality.” I was rather shaken and surprised by the whole unexpected encounter. The thing that makes me maddest at myself is that I just ignored the fact he’d driven night-and-day from Chi without stopping. So I just let him drive back. After which he wrote me a naughty letter* about how cold New Englanders were and how he’d slept with some doll in New York and cracked up the car in Ohio. However, we are now writing again just as if nothing had ever happened. C’est la vie! I am now convinced that the process of knowing a person should be a combination of getting used to their ideas at the same time as their physical looks and habits.
By the way (I am now dripping and melting up here on the porch.) Marcia & I have got a neat job this summer! Wait till you hear! Marcia applied to the Vocational Office for notice
s for summer jobs. Well this one came that wanted two friends to work two doors from each other in Swampscott taking care of kids – 3 each. So we got an interview – and got the job! $25 a week, room and board – a lot of work (my kids are 2, 4, 6) but I think we can make a good thing out of it! At least I’ll have someone I know near me.
Say hello to Jim for me, baby, and let me know soon how things are & what’s been happening –
Love,
Syl
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Wednesday 9 May 1951*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Dear Mum –
Just a note to tell you that it is only a bad sprain – and whether Dick knows it or not, I’m coming down – I will call him, at least, and let him know that his date will have one very thick ankle and a slight hobble. Also she won’t be able to run, jump or climb hills. Also I feel very good because I just finished my last English paper (9 pages) on Edith Sitwell. I finally relaxed & got the book, which I fondle lovingly from time to time – it’s so beautiful. Talked w. Miss Mensel – who said she couldn’t possibly give me co-op next year since I didn’t need it badly enough. Oh, joy!
Love, your cripple –
Sylvia
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Monday 14 May 1951*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Dear Mother –
When I think that in a mere three weeks I will be free, I hardly can believe it! Of course the things I have to accomplish in that short time are unbelievable – and I have stacks of mail to answer – all long and demanding letters.
As for news – where can I begin? Remember that article on Blind Dates I wrote with Marcia? Well it got printed in the Princeton Tiger, no less. We haven’t seen it yet, but the girls say it got a big spread. Also I was surprised to hear from John Hodges – a letter describing his wild travels and exploits in the army. I can’t think of anything more suited to his temperament – no responsibility – just taking orders & going wild on weekends. Ah, free spirit! Am I glad I never had more than a crush on him! At least he netted me $15. When I think, Emile netted my $100 prize! Any boy who asks me out, I fear, will be too wary now – Bob Humphrey is coming up the weekend of the 19th – and he wrote that he read my story, too. Probably his sister showed him. His gentleness is shown by what he said so cutely: “Have you ever met any guys so cruel in reality? I thought my god if I were sitting at the next table from them I would have come over and rescued that poor girl.” Naive, but sweet, don’t you think. Ilo’s response was that he liked the story, and felt it was based on some fragments of personal “live-through”. Only he said: “Only where did you get such a good natured ‘lion’ who gives away his meat so easily – without eating it–?”