MAY 3, 1937
SEATTLE, Friday—Friday was a glorious day in San Francisco. My friend, Miss Chaney, and I, started out to stroll through Chinatown. I found one or two of my favorite shops and bought a few small souvenirs, and then Mayor Rossi met us, and we drove to the entrance of the Golden Gate Bridge. All the engineering plans on that bridge have been checked by an architect, with the result that even the structural steel bulk looks as if it had been designed for beauty as well as use. The view in both directions was very lovely, and though I suppose to some people it is hard to become accustomed to having a bridge at that particular spot, still it is a great achievement, and a thing of real beauty. I remember how we felt when our view down the Hudson River from my mother-in-law's house was first changed by the Mid-Hudson Bridge, and now I would miss it, particularly at night, when it is outlined by lights. They told me the Golden Gate Bridge was the last link in the Canadian-Mexican Highway, and I know that highway has some very beautiful stretches. I drove through the redwoods two summers ago, and I shall never forget emerging from the shade of those tremendous trees through which the sun barely filters, onto the open sea, with the foam breaking over the rocks, and the brilliance of reflected sunshine all about one. We had a pleasant lunch, and I saw a few people, before driving to the airport. Five minutes after reaching there, the plane from Los Angeles came in sight, and a few minutes later, my daughter and son-in-law emerged from the plane.
It is a curious thing that a few people are so constantly in your thoughts that you always feel that no matter how long you have been separated, you must have seen them just the day before. We had not seen each other since before Christmas, and it seemed incredible when we were together again. After we were ensconced on the plane we talked the whole way to Seattle, with a few interruptions at various stops, and a little time out to admire some perfectly beautiful mountain scenery.
The day was perfect for the trip, everything clear, except for a few white clouds, which seemed to add to the heighth of the mountains. The peaks stood out, snow-covered, absolutely white in the sun, and one passenger said to me 'Look at Mt. Rainier,' and another one, 'Look at Mt. Tacoma.' This mountain is so beautiful that two cities claim the right to name it! It is certainly a glorious sight, and as everyone had told me beforehand that I would probably wait for days before seeing it, I felt particularly welcomed to this part of the world by having it greet me so beautifully on my arrival. The children were down at the airport, and there was much excitement when we reached the house, everyone wanting to show me their particular room at once. Between Friday night and Saturday I've inspected the house and the grounds thoroughly, and tomorrow I will tell you more about my impressions.