by Sylvia Plath
Now for a history of my week. After Sunday when the 3 weekend guests left, everyone was exhausted – including me, who had been running around like mad and, it seemed, doing dishes from morning till night. But I was touched when Mr. Cantor slipped me a $5 bill said with a wink “from the guests for services rendered.” A tip, no less!
Monday I spent the better part of the afternoon scrubbing and waxing the kitchen floor. In the evening Dick came over and we went for a lovely companionable 2 hour hike along the beach to Chatham Light, with a big unbelievably orange moon floating up over the water.
Tuesday was cleaning day, and we got up early to prepare for a guest and her 2 year old baby who came then to stay till Friday. I really was on the go, and was finishing up dinner dishes when (at 9 p.m.) Bob Cochran, the lean young boy from Church walked in. We decided to go for a ride in his car as Mrs. C. was staying in – and I felt I needed a respite. I walked out expecting a blue convertible, when what should I see in the drive but a low, suave crimson M-G! (Warren would love this!) I got in and we were off, speeding through the lovely Chatham fog in the little open car along the highway: Picture trees arching over a smooth dark lonely road, and a car with two young gay people singing lustily on the top of their lungs. (Mostly Bob singing and me laughing.) He was sleepy, so he let me drive, and before I knew it we were whishing through Orleans and ended up in Wellfleet where Bob got some potato chips and cold beer – and boy, did it taste good! I was in before Joan – who had not yet come back from the movies with a gang of girls.
Wednesday I shopped in town – for such delicacies as escarolle, romaine, and strawberries – I really enjoyed the responsibility, and felt very domestic driving the car through the crowded sunny Chatham streets, stopping at the shops, officially smelling melons (I really can’t tell the difference, my sense of smell not being too good!) The only flaw in my act was that, after paying the woman (with a housewifely smile) I started to walk gaily off without my packages! (After the luncheon and all, I went to bed early.)
Thursday dawned clear and blue – and I gave a little squeak of joy as I lept up and went about my tasks. Dick and two Lathamites picked me up in their car about 10:30. Dick and I had time for a slice of cantalope together in the sun outside the cabin before he left for work. He was so cute – insisted on making me an artistic salad of spam & cheese slices & cantalope & melon.
As soon as he left I walked down to the Brewster beach with a towel, feeling very happy and savoring how wonderful it was to be young and alive, noticing every smell and scent and sight with keen delight
The tide was dead low, so for an hour I walked or ran, as the spirit moved, straight out to sea on the sand flats – skipping through the clear calf-deep water, frightening seagulls, and in general, acting like a free young pony, neighing with delight. For 30 minutes after a vigorous 2 hour hike, I lay and basked on the sand, then the hike back to the cabin, with a brief stop at the Brewster cemetary to browse about the old tombstones. Dick biked up just as I was finishing my salad in the sun on the front steps.
We then biked to the tennis court made by the DP, and played in our bathing suits for an hour – such lovely informality! – and biked for a short dip afterwards.
After Dick bade me goodbye and left for work, I did the dishes and picked up the cabin. I then “bathed” in the dishpan and donned my yellow dress.
Bob drove up in his M-G at eight looking very sweet in his light blue cord jacket. Actually he isn’t quite as old as Warren! But really terribly mature. Socially, having all the material advantages of Larchmont, New York. I am really fond of him in a tender maternal way – he is so young and reminds me much of Warren, only is not so sweet and gentle – rather cynical and fresh to people at times. He has given me the germ of a central character for a short story tho’, of which I only had the title when I left home. I will probably write it at school, when it has had time to take form and plot.
We drove to the Music Circus in Hyannis to see (and hear) “The Fledermaus.”* I’m enclosing the program which I hope you will save for my scrapbook.* We had a magnificent time, and the singing was glorious – all took place in a great circular tent with chairs in a gravel-sand amphitheater with a circular stage in the center – the actors came down the aisle. During the ball scene I felt like dragging Bob down and dancing too, it was all so Austrian and liltingly light and gay – wish you could all have been there! We stopped for a hamburg and milk afterwards – and drove around by Chatham Light afterwards for the sea-view before going home – a most lovely and perfect day.
I am sorry if my last letter sounded smug – I was really only fooling! I enjoy finding out about Xian Science really, and don’t advance any of my own opinions as that would lead to arguing when what I want is to learn. (Joan and I sat out in the yard this afternoon making the unpleasant task of polishing all the silver less undesirable by taking turns reading aloud this week’s lesson on “Soul” from the Bible and “Science and Health.”)
I dropped my “Mlle” at the Bookmobile this morning and arranged to visit Val this Monday evening. I really like her a lot – she’s so ugly and fascinating and fragile. I can’t wait. At least my first nebulous exclamation “Oh, I love to write!” has been backed up in her eyes with material “success”. As she said when I handed her the magazine apologizing for the story a little & saying it had many faults: “Heck, if any one takes it apart just ask them if they could produce a prize-winner – you’ve got your approval. Don’t apologize for it.”
Also I am really humble about my short story & poems in “17.” Just think of all the writing I have to do to keep up with my reputation! I am so happy I “have the right to write.” I was really amazed that the Monitor is paying $3.50 for that little “Riverside Reveries”* poem I wrote while early in highschool! On the “Home Forum”, too, I think. I hope to do a series of descriptive nature articles about the Cape this fall and see if that would get in. SO that makes a total:
2.50 A-bomb article with Perry
4.00 “Bitter Strawberries”
5.00 farm article
15.00 babysitting
3.50 poem*
$30.00
Not much, but a gnawing away at the edge of it. And 17 adds up so nicely –
$2.00 contribution*
15.00 “And summer will not come again”
10.00 poem “Ode on a bitten plum”
100.00 “Den of Lions” story
25.00 “The Perfect Setup” story
5.00 “The Suitcases are Packed again” poem
10.00 “Carnival Nocturne,”* Poem
167.00
So, with “Mlle”, that’s a total of almost $700 in 3 years. Starvation wages!
That’s the resume of news for now.
Love to you all,
Sivvy
P.S. Poor Mr. Murray! His passage you quoted was so tired and “preciously flowery.” I was writing about “Myriads of jewel-like twinkling stars” in junior high. Stars – they get sort of tarnished with overuse. Hope he can tighten it up and make good, poor guy!
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Tues.–Thurs. 19–21 August 1952*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Tuesday, 5 p.m.
Dearest mum . . .
I hardly think you would recognize your plump young daughter if you saw her now: I am sitting in my white bathing suit with Joanie in the back (open) of the beachwagon, legs dangling, munching peaches left over from our picnic this noon. After a queer, nasty rainy weekend, Monday & today have been clear, cool, breezy and blue, and as a result I am as tan as I ever was at the Belmont – even more so. I have been working extra hard in the mornings and putting up great picnics these last two days for five & six people – I don’t forget anything any more – not even salt. Yesterday was just about the most wonderful yet. All morning I ran around doing dishes, defrosting the icebox, making a great picnic, hanging out load after load of laundry (1
2 sheets & pillowcases plus incidentals is quite a job.) The whole family left for Nauset Beach in Orleans at 12 and stayed till about four in the afternoon. To my mind, Nauset (over 20 miles of pure white sand and powerful bluegreen surf, low dunes) is the most beautiful place on the Cape. We had our picnic and a siesta on the sand and then Joan and I walked for miles up the hard flat sand in the sun.
I really don’t mind running around like a fiend in the a.m. if I can relax now and then in the afternoon like this. After supper Mrs. Cantor kindly drove me over to South Dennis for my evening with Val Gendron. I don’t know when I’ve had such a wonderful time in all my life. It was like a dream of an artist’s Bohemia.
Val lives in a rickety old “half-house”
We walked through one unfinished room, into this place she made for herself. I just stood on the threshold and gurgled in fatuous delight. She had erected the walls, made the doors & bookshelves, painted, – done everything herself. It was a low ceilinged cosy room with bookshelves all over the walls, in every angle and corner – all painted a lovely Williamsburg blue-gray with a creamyellow trim. There was a studio cot, a small gay upholstered sofa – a coffee table, and a rug on the floor in the process of being braided (she does that, too.) Also a desk, a file, a typewriter, and stacks of manuscripts.
No sooner than we had seated ourselves crosslegged on the floor than four black greeneyed kittens – playful skittish bits of soft fur – came waltzing and scampering out of the closet, playing around us, sneezing into our hot coffee, rolling grapes around with their paws, and being just adorable.
Well, we got talking, on and on – Val telling me about her job in New York, regaling me with anecdote after anecdote of her skyrocketing position in a bank – and why she quit – all hilarious. Also she got out her outline of her latest western novel, not yet accepted – and let me read a short story – and lots of her correspondence with her two agents – both her letters to them & theirs to her – all neatly dated and filed. And she told me so much in the course of the evening – we didn’t stop talking till midnight – and drove me back in her old jalopy – us yelling to each other all the way over the noise of the engine.
She knows lots of people – Rachel Carson* & she are friends as of this summer – and she went to school with Hemingway’s sister* . . . all sorts of tales. I learned so much, so very much from her – and I agree with all she says about writing. I must tell you in detail when I see you.
I left her at 12:30 after 5 of the most wonderful hours I have ever spent . . . completely fond of the dear skinny dark-haired woman – She had been so tremendous to me – “criticized” my story and all. And been so generous with herself & her work.
She said to write to her while at Smith & let her know what I am doing. It is my secret hope that I can drive down the Cape on a nice sunny day Xmas vacation & take her out to dinner somewhere and visit her. I just love her.
Now after all this – today, I got up at six and we cleaned house – I doing dishes, scrubbing & waxing kitchen floor, hanging laundry & making another great picnic.
After another glorious day at Nauset, I am browner and healthier than ever. Also sleepy. Mrs. Cantor is taking a friend out to Latham’s tonight & getting Perry to wait* on her I think. I cooked cube steak, rice, & sliced tomatoes for supper tonight. (We cook Uncle Ben rice & it is real good – doesn’t stick or get gooey.) Very delicious, if I do say!
I saw my darling Bob again today as we stopped in Chatham and he asked me to go sailing with him tomorrow afternoon! I was so pleased – just pray it’s nice! I’m inordinately fond of this kid – not (just because of his M-G either.) So I hope we go.
I am so sleepy after this 14½ hour day that I shall now turn in.
Love,
S.
P.S. – Thursday – another beautiful day after the lovely day-off. I ironed & packed Bob & me a picnic lunch in the a.m. At noon I biked 3 miles to his house & his Mother* showed me around the lovely old place from the “beanpot” cellar to the broadbeamed attic – and Bob came breezing in from work – we picked up our sails & food and hiked down to the cove to the boat. Oh, it was heaven to re-learn rigging a boat again. I took the tiller & mainsheet and we sailed out across the bay in the lovely sun & wind – tan, bathing-suited – very happy – to a big island beach. The picnic was tremendous, slaw, fruit & gingerale, lying in the sun like two contented puppies. We read aloud the whole chapter on “Marriage” from “Science & Health” and suddenly realized how late it was. Going back across the bay the wind dropped & tide was low, so we got out & pushed now & then! I was late for meeting Norton’s – so they drove to bay – I jumped out – leaving Bob to anchor boat. Supper at Nortons – evening of conversation with Dick – 10-12 – Lovely day!
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Thursday 21 August 1952*
ALS (postcard), Indiana University
Thursday 8:30 Pm
Dear mum . . .
Just a card to answer a few of the questions in your last lovely long letter: As for all my uncashed checks – I don’t want to send them endorsed in the mail – I can wait a week and a half before I deposit them in the bank myself. I plan, tentatively, to stop work Sunday night, Aug. 31 & spend it & Monday till you come Tuesday in Brewster with the boys. Tuesday I hope grammy can get down early, also you – to Brewster I’ll be waiting there & then maybe you, Warren & I can drive to Chatham to spend a while with the Cantors as I pick up my suitcases – I do want you and Warren to meet Mrs. C. I’ll drive back Tues. & plunge into work. Mildred wanted me to stay with you all, but as tempting as it may be, I remain stoic. I’ll hate to leave here, I love them all so. Today we drove to Truro for a picnic & swim & picked a lot of beach plums to make jelly with. Now I sit sleepily under hair drier before early bed. Cute Bob called just now for a date tonight – but I was too sleepy. He’ll come to band concert with us tomorrow, though. Love you all. Want to hear details about Warren’s night club venture
XX
S.
TO Aurelia Schober Plath
Sunday 24 August 1952*
ALS with envelope,
Indiana University
Sunday night
Dearest mother . . .
At present I am sleepily curled up in front of a warm roaring fire in the Cantor’s living room, happily about to recapitulate the last few strenuous and wonderful days. I don’t know when I’ve had so much work and fun combined! Really, I feel so much richer, older and wiser after this summer. Never have I gotten along so well with such an amazing diversity of people! Everyone from the Cantor’s friends to 17 year-old Christian Scientist Bob to 25 year-old ugly pedantic thoughtful Art to just plain dear 22 year-old Dick. My juggling has been most successful. Imagine – there have been only 4 days so far when I haven’t either been called or dated by one or more of my 3 pets!<
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Thursday, after the wonderful day off I told you about, we cleaned up in readiness for our 3 weekend guests, made a big picnic, and drove up to Truro – the first time I’ve ever been that far up the Cape – a fascinating ride – Joan & I sitting dangling our legs over the running board in back and drinking in all the varying scenery. The children, Mrs. C., Joan & I, had a lovely picnic on the Truro beach, and Joan and I read aloud the Christian Science lesson of the week together. (I am really learning an awful lot about Xian Science, and feel that I am having a rare experience of not only learning about a brand of religion and philosophy theoretically, but also seeing it operate in personal lives at the same time.) On the way back we all stopped to pick beach plums by the side of the road – which we later made into our own jelly. We came back, stopping to browse in a Wellfleet Antique Shop where Mrs. C. bought me an adorable little bluegreen glass bottle that happened to have the initials “Sp” on it! I bathed, washed my hair, after a light supper, and had a long talk with Art on the phone, after which we all read from M. B. Eddy’s prose in Mrs. C.’s room before early bed.
Friday was tremendous – sort of cold & cloudy. I took Joan and the kids off Mrs. C.’s hands all morning. First we drove to the Merry-Thought gift shop where I simply fell in love with a lot of the copper jewelry, Country print linen & Blenko glassware – and browsed. Then to the Cochran’s to pick up my bike (which I left when I biked there on Wednesday my day-off.) Bob was home, and went across the street with us while we bought fresh vegetables at a small farm. We also stopped to get a great bouquet of flowers on the way back to decorate the house. After lunch, Joan & I did the weekend marketing and browsed in the Book Mobile & chatted with Val for about an hour or more. I had a great time & jotted down about 50 names & addresses of poetry & fiction magazine markets from a big Writer’s Handbook* they had. Boy, I’ll get those sonnets printed yet!