Democracy over Fascism: “I hope you haven’t neglected sending in your ballot”

Yesterday I, like millions other Americans, cast my ballot in the midterm elections and then waited anxiously into the evening for the results to roll in. With this year’s Supreme Court decision overruling Roe vs. Wade and subsequent attempts to not only limit access to but criminalize abortion, as well as the conspiracy theories and white supremacist filth spewing from Republican politicians across the country, the election is supremely consequential. Although we are not currently waging war against Nazis on the battlefield as was happening when Sylvia wrote, these elections, particularly after the events of January 6^th, determine the fate of democracy as fascism gains ground across the country.

I found this letter that Sylvia wrote on the evening of the presidential election in 1944 and want to unpack it a little bit. There is so much to parse out in this letter and I’ll back up to where Sylvia begins, with something I didn’t know about her – that she spoke French! (Please forgive my awful attempt at transcribing a language I don’t speak). Sylvia says English is inadequate in expressing love and beautifully ties that to politics. As Sylvia puts it, today everyone is speaking “an anti-fascist language – a democratic language.” And she believes that at the polls the “American people will show their preference for a strong and lasting peace…” Whether she knows it or not Sylvia is basically quoting FDR and Truman’s campaign poster:

This election in 1944, that Sylvia is talking about passionately, is when President Roosevelt won an unprecedented fourth term in office, defeating Thomas Dewey. (Two New Yorkers running against each other for the highest office in the land.) This fourth term would see Roosevelt’s death and the inauguration of Vice President Truman only three months in.

The letter was written before the results of the election but on the back of the envelope you can see that Sylvia added “Roosevelt Won!!”

Here’s the letter and a few more of my observations after it.

Monday 11/6/44 Night

Baby darling,

There are some selections on the radio now – guess what – Andy Lou’s part in “Carmen Jones.” [This was a Broadway adaptation of the opera Carmen, set during WWII with African American characters, written by Oscar Hammerstein.] It made me remember that wonderful evening we spent together – that Italian restaurant and the show and your excitement, etc. and the organ grinder pictures and my fall down the subway steps which left me lame for a few days – and it made me start planning all the future shows we’d see together and the good times we’d have again soon. Si, mio amore, nous avons des beaux temps dans nos memoirs. N’est ce-pas etrange de peveer que je prefere nes memoirs de mon mari et que tue priferes vos memoirs.

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De votre femme seulement.  [Rough translation: Yes, mio ​​amore, we have beautiful times in our memories. Isn’t it strange to think that I prefer my husband’s memories and that you prefer your memories. From your wife only.]

(Darling I’ve taken to studying French one or two evenings a week and hope to be able to speak it fluently again soon. (We shall see.) But I’ve decided that the English language is an awful language to use when one wants to tell of one’s love for another. In Italian “mio amore” sounds so much lovelier than the trivial “My love”! (So next time we’re in bed together, speak Italian to me.)  The French “mon amour” sounds so much better too. But I believe the people of the world understand each other today, no matter what language is spoken – it’s an anti-fascist language – a democratic language. And tomorrow at the polls – thru no language but thru a machine will the American people show their preference for a strong and lasting peace in a strong

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and lasting betrayal of the Tehran agreement and of the Dumbarton Oaks agreement. Darling, I hope you haven’t neglected sending in your ballot. I should have reminded you of it, but you know what hysterical nonsense I wrote you in my previous letters to my shame. I’m some morale breaker-downer. You’re the one who keeps up my morale. If it weren’t so tragic I’d see the lemon in the situation. It’s hard for me to understand how you’ve been able to keep a balanced viewpoint – but then you’ve always been the strong one in our small family. Darling, how I need to lean on your strength now. Sometimes, out of sheer desperation to feel you near me, or even when I’m in the grip of some especially

4  –

Pleasant memory of you, I do the craziest things. Like tonight your mother went home and I put Adrienne in bed and turned on the radio. They were playing Strauss’ “Tales in Vienna Woods,” and it made me think of 31^st St. So I took your picture and put Cookie’s sailor hat on it and started to dance a waltz with you. Fortunately, the window shade was down or the neighbors would have thought me “touched in the head”. Sometimes I even talk to your picture. It’s not that I’m lonely for you, but it’s because I’m so much in love with you. I don’t believe that there are many people who love each other as we two do. This I say after seeing how our neighbors who are about our age keep on quarreling and bickering and become ugly to each other and I believe that it is only the bed

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that keeps them together. And there is nothing that can separate us. Darling, no matter how long we will be separated because of the war, your final return home will be that much sweeter, so if ever we begin to mourn our separation, just remember we’re going to be safe and sound on your return. You won’t return to a bombed out wife and child but to a healthy family in a strongly constituted and clean home – and after election I hope your return will be to a democratic government and not to a fascist government. I don’t believe I’ve ever felt so strongly about any election and the little I’ve been able to do to ensure our candidates victory, I’ve done unsparingly.

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So don’t feel that Sylvia sits home mourning all night –

By now you must have received my letters about my visits to the doctor. And I’m going to follow your advice and guard against colds. Your remarks about de Kruif’s article were interesting. And your wonderfully understanding letters made me realize how stupid I was to be so morbid. But as you say, I have other things to think of instead of only myself.

And dearest, don’t worry about my over-working myself. I arrange my day well so that I’ll not be overtired. And when I do was windows and wax floors, it is because I love to do those things in our own home. I want it to be clean and lovely and I’m suer you’ll walk in when the house will be completely disarranged!!

The living room and kitchen is one room with nothing to separate them. I was a little shocked at first, but now that I’ve grown accustomed to the idea, it doesn’t look bad. It’s just a matter of habit. Adrienne

– Rest of the letter is missing  –

I feel very disappointed that this letter is cut short, just as she turned her writing to Adrienne. But here we have issues regarding Sylvia’s health creeping into the text, something that is rarely explained in detail. Alex is concerned about her working too hard and she assures him, once again, that she is being careful. In thinking about current and historical elections, and the battle over the right to an abortion, I want to share that I only recently learned that Sylvia had an abortion. After having Adrienne, and before having my father, she got pregnant and was told by the doctor that it was unsafe for her to give birth, given her heart condition. Alex was adamant, I’m told, that she not risk her life to have another child. She desperately wanted another child, though, and carried a second baby (my father) to term after that. She loved her children deeply, enough to risk her own health, and only lived until my father was four years old. This is a complicated story to tell on someone else’s behalf and as a descendent. My existence is due to Sylvia’s ability to choose whether to have a baby and autonomy over her own body. I share this story because abortion, even as healthcare to preserve the life of the mother, is so deeply misunderstood today. So many people don’t seem to realize how complicated a decision like this is and don’t realize that women who already have children, who want children, and who are married, choose to have abortions for reasons that are, frankly, none of anyone’s business. Pregnancy is dangerous and difficult, and maternal mortality rates in this country are higher than in other comparably developed nations, particularly for women of color. So here’s hoping we can prove Sylvia right, that Americans will vote in favor of lasting peace and democracy over fascism.