My Favorite Things: Roosevelt Edition

I’m a baby boomer, and my parents were of the Greatest Generation—15 and 14 years old when
FDR first took office, and 27 and 26 when he died. Together they lived through the Great
Depression, and were married for less than 3 months when Pearl Harbor changed their lives. My
father served in the Navy during World War II.

Growing up, I heard again and again how they loved and admired Franklin Roosevelt, who was
like a beloved father figure to them, as he was to so many. They visited his home in Hyde Park
many times over the years after his death.

It’s been a dozen years since my parents passed on, and I moved to Hyde Park just 7 years ago
from Brooklyn Heights. They never knew that I would come to live so close to FDR’s home. But
whenever I visit the Library and Museum grounds, I feel that they are with me, and that I am
representing them when I visit FDR’s graveside, my favorite place on the grounds.

I stand for a long time at the grave in silent reflection. Several times I’ve attended and
photographed the graveside ceremony on FDR’s birthday. As I shiver in the January cold, I’m
nevertheless warmed by the presence of World War II veterans like my father paying their
respects to their Commander in Chief.

These visits bring me closer to my parents’ memory, and closer to the vital and momentous times
in which they lived. When I was young, I used to feel sorry for my parents for having had to
endure first the Great Depression and then World War II. But as I grew older, I actually came to
envy them for living in a time when a President, who was loved and trusted and respected by so
many, united America in common purpose.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention three more of My Favorite Things:
As a photographer, I’m intoxicated by the diverse and ever-changing beauty of the intimate
Beatrix Farrand Garden at Bellefield. A few years ago, I took a one-day landscape
photography course there which continues to influence and inform my work.

I also revel in the quiet, remote beauty of Roosevelt Farm Lane, which seems like a world apart
even as it starts and ends next to major highways. FDR listed himself as a tree farmer on his tax
forms, and his love of Farm Lane is evident along every inch of its 1.8-mile length. I love the
feeling of being enveloped by the deep woods there.

Finally, I’ve always been entranced by the photographic possibilities of the great open fields
that surround you as soon as you enter FDR’s property, even before you reach the buildings. I
love the sense of infinite sky and endless fields, which at certain times are covered with hay
bales that connect us to the estate’s rural past, alive and with us still.

—Eric Miller, June 2020