So, I got caught up in other things such as gazing at the window and admiring the autumn trees hereabouts as seen through mists & sprinkles. Driving through those sprinkles & fog, settling ever thicker, down to Grandview, MO, where Harry Truman's grandfathers established their farms back in the 1840s, I believe. I was to talk to a gaggle of ladies, old friends of one another, about my books. Mimi waited in the car. One of the ladies remembered visiting w/ Harry's mother, Mattie, and his sister, Mary Jane. I experienced one of those quiet thrills you get when you brush up against history.
Hurrying home by way of the store for a bottle of white wine, by way of the graveyard so Mimi & I could walk 'round the damp stones & Mimi could sniff at the grass, to get dinner on the table for the best sort of company: an old friend of my own. so all in all, I neglected to write a lick yesterday about it's being the 195th anniversary of the birth of women's rights activist & devoted mom & friend to Susan B., her forger of thunderbolts, in fact Elizabeth Cady Stanton, in Johnstown, New York. And oh didn't Judge Cady wish that his pretty daughter, the 8th of his 11 children, had only been a boy... " I thought that the chief thing to be done in order to equal boys was to be learned and courageous," LIzzie would write later on. "So I decided to study Greek and learn to manage a horse." and that was only the beginning.