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16

On Easter Sunday, March 27th, I devoted my entire diary to an attempt to get things into perspective as follows:

This is Easter Sunday and spring is in the air. The sun is shining and the sky is clear, and the promise of all good and lovely things seems to permeate the world in spite of depression and doubt and fear. For, after all, the best and finest things of life are those which economics cannot touch -- the outdoors, the blue sky, the glistening lake, the trees waving on the far horizon, the birds, the right to roam down byways in the summer shade and look at the lovely world. All the mistakes of men and the upsets of business cannot take away these things which have been going on forever and live on through cycles of war and peace, depression and prosperity. Our lives are woefully short when we stop to think of how much there is which is wonderful to see and do and know in the world. The tradition of Easter is the leasing of new life, and so with us, may we here start a greater game, one devoted to extracting from life full measure of its priceless things. Putting all sentimentality aside, the life we are supposed to live, the life that is geared to the scheme of things, is one that is useful, appreciative of beauty in everything, devoted to unselfishness, work, accomplishment -- one steering clear of excesses, unbalance of any kind -- one that is lived intelligently and well as far as the individual knows how. But unfortunately an individual can't assure himself of following a chosen path because he finds himself in an exalted state of mind superinduced by music, nature or something inspiring. To achieve the continuance of the kind of living he envisions at times like these, he must conscientiously pursue his ideals from day to day, really from minute to minute, to make an unbroken chain of right-living from the past into the future. So may this chain be ours from now on into the years that lie ahead. May they be good years because the lives that are woven through them are good lives, devoted to the duties that are so clear.

On April 2nd the stock market went crashing to new lows. Electric Bond & Share that I bought at 183 was down to 5; Allegheny Corp. bought at 50 down to 1 3/8; General Motors bought at 76 down to 15; Texas Corp. 71 to 11; etc. I put this devastation of our fortunes in my diary in the hope that someday I could look back on it and see what happened and profit thereby. Even some of Mother's bonds were alarmingly low--it was almost terrifying if you didn't keep a firm grip. And there seemed to be no telling when the downward movement was going to stop. All I could do was fall back on the thesis that in spite of everything, if one carried on his best, life would be good, and that after all the oppression of thinking of economics and its many weaknesses, it was like a breath of life to think about the