My father transacted his vague business for decades, then fortune

found, he retired to Lavasan, where he bought a villa.

The property was wooded and slopped to the river bank.

There was a lovely rose garden surrounded by hemlock hedge.

The house wasn’t large and it was in poor repair;

the fields had been neglected for years, the fences were

down, and the outbuildings required immediate attention by a contractor.

But the expansive view of the Jairood River was majestic.

Within a year the house was put in proper order.

Relatives would soon spend summers at the villa in Lavasan.


Paraphrases from the biography FDR by Jean Edward Smith.