Dear Papa (10 page)

Good night,

Isabelle

April 12, 1945

Dear Papa,

First you, then LeRoy Pence’s father, then lots more people’s fathers and uncles and brothers and cousins.

And today, President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died. Have you met him yet? If so, tell him that everyone here is sad. His voice has been coming through the radio as long as I’ve been listening. He’s been my only president. What will happen now?

In memory of The President,

Isabelle

April 15, 1945

Dear Papa,

Even before President Roosevelt’s funeral there is a new president. Mr. Harry S. Truman. I hope he knows what he’s doing.

Yours,

Isabelle

April 25, 1945

Dear Papa,

I am in my room until further notice. Disrespect is the charge. I called Mr. Frank “Frank.” How is that disrespectful? It is not like he is a stranger or someone at church or something. Mama was talking at me all the way up the stairs. It was a come-down-when-you-have-a-better-attitude speech. Remember those? It used to be mostly Irma who got them. Now I know how she felt. Maybe if I’d called him “Francis” instead. At least with you it was easy. Except that one time I called you Pops.

I.V.A.

May 6, 1945

Dear Aunt Izzy,

Thank you for the postcard. Did you hear about President R? At least Mrs. Roosevelt has their dog, Fala.

I still have half of the holy cards. I shared them with my friend Mary. They are under my bed. I suppose you’re right. It hasn’t harmed me so far to keep them. They would be nice to collect, if I weren’t Lutheran. Don’t we have any beads or cards or statues or anything to pass around?

Your niece,

Isabelle

June 2, 1945

Dear Papa,

I am wondering about something. I wish I could see your face because I don’t know what you will feel about this. You are my Papa and will always be my true father. It is just confusing at school and in conversation about Mr. Frank. What if I just called him “Dad”? I looked it up in my dictionary and one meaning is “father” but the other one is “fellow, buddy, pal (usually in addressing a stranger).” So you see, Mr. Frank is not a stranger even, and people know the term and everything. Some people call their fathers “Dad” but we called our father “Papa.” So “Dad” is different. I will think about it some more, but I wanted to try it out on you first.

Wondering,

Isabelle

June 8, 1945

Dear Papa,

I have thought about the “Dad” thing and didn’t get any bad feelings from thinking about it. So I had a talk with Mr. Frank tonight. He thought it would be fine if I called him “Dad.” He got weepy and tried to hug me with his long arm and said he loved me.

I wish I could tell what you think.

Still Your Girl,

Isabelle

August 14, 1945

Dear Papa,

VICTORY! The war is over over over! Can you hear the shouts up there? Everyone is dancing in the street. I’m going out there, too! Thought you’d want to know! Tell Mr. Roosevelt!

Do you remember peace days? I wish you could tell me what to expect.

I guess I could ask Dad. As long as you aren’t right here.

Hurrah for America!

Isabelle

September 19, 1945

Dear Papa,

Happy Birthday! Mary and I sang to you on the way home from school today. Did you hear us? Then we sang “My Country, ’Tis of Thee” and “You’re a Grand Old Flag.” Mary wants to make a Joy Singer out of me (that’s her choir).

Hope there’s cake in heaven!

Love,

Isabelle

P. S. The war is still over.

October 3, 1945

GUESS WHAT, PAPA!

Stuart is back — in one piece! Irma hadn’t heard from him since the war ended and no one knew when he’d come home. Here is what happened and I am not kidding: Irma was here for a visit hoping to get news when Stuart’s parents heard. She and I went downtown on the streetcar to pass the afternoon. We dilly-dallied around, saw a show, and got back on the streetcar.

“IRMA?” we heard from the back of the car and turned around. THERE WAS STUART in his uniform! She screamed and pushed through the crowd to the back and they hugged and KISSED and everyone clapped. The old lady next to me honked her nose in a hanky. Irma stayed on the streetcar all the way to Stuart’s house but I had to get off at St. Clair. I’m going to ask Stuart about Charlie the next time I see him.

Hurrah!

Isabelle

November 16, 1945

Dear Aunt Izzy,

I am having a friend problem. You see, Mary is my best friend. But Sylvia from the Chatty Pigtails is my friend, too. Mary and I always skate after school or at least sit on her step and talk. And on Fridays I usually stay and eat dinner at her house. We don’t plan it; it just works out that way. Well, Sylvia invited me to go to the new Jimmy Stewart movie with her this Friday. Her mother said she could invite one friend and go to a show because her sisters are going to a birthday party. I said yes right away, but then when I told Mary, she was hurt and mad. We had plans, she said.

It was easier when I didn’t have a best friend.

By the way, Ida got caught wearing rosary beads to school as a necklace. Dad was actually angry with her. Then he and Mama argued about church and you’d think the war had started again. Ida shut herself in the closet. Frankie cried and I had to read to him. Don’t you want to come back for a visit?

Your niece,

Isabelle

December 20, 1945

Dear Aunt Izzy,

I’m glad you had friend trouble, too. Well, not glad that you did, but glad that you understand. Mary didn’t wait for me after school for about two weeks. Sylvia has friends from St. Paul Academy that are funny and wild. I was so happy that she still wanted to be my friend that I did go with her, but this weekend all three of us are going to go to a show.

Thanks for the knitting patterns. I’m sure they will come in handy someday.

Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday (almost) to Franklin!

Love,

Isabelle

March 17, 1946

Dear Papa,

About peace (you must be wondering, since it’s been here seven months): The uniforms are gone and it’s funny to see men wearing suits and ties. Sister Carmelita says since there is no fabric ration, women’s skirts should be long enough to cover their knees. But they aren’t. Most of the rationing is over. Your station is busy, I’ll bet. We ate steak for an end-of-ration celebration. And we all got new shoes, even Frankie, who runs everywhere now. Most of all, though, Charlie didn’t come back. Blown to bits in Burma. I hope you have gotten to meet him in heaven. I miss him.

Love,

Isabelle

May 20, 1946

Dear Papa,

Mary is moving away! We have been through two grades together. She is moving to Fargo, North Dakota. The wind blows people off the sidewalks there, she says. She doesn’t want to go. We are praying that her mother finds a doctor to marry so she can live on Mississippi River Boulevard and not have to go to work. Stuart says the women are supposed to give jobs back to the men anyhow.

Do you have any pull in this department?

Your almost-twelve-year-old,

Isabelle

August 30, 1946

Dear Papa,

I have lots of friends now. Not like earlier. This summer I have gotten back in with Sylvia’s crowd. I don’t get influenced so how can they be bad influences?

“We don’t like who you are becoming,” Mama and Dad say. They talk about sending me to Catholic school. What? Catholics don’t smoke an occasional cigarette? Maybe they just don’t get caught. I will NOT be converted!

Feeling irascible (adj., easily provoked to anger),

Isabelle

September 15, 1946

Dear Papa,

I am still in public school. I had to promise to study, come right home after school, and help with more chores around the house. School and after school are not the same without Mary. Sylvia and her group went right on having fun without me. I’ve seen them going into her house.

Ian is the chess champion of the whole school and Ida plays the violin. Plus she sings. “Voice of an angel,” Dad says. Have you heard her? What do
I
do?

Yours truly,

Isabelle

March 12, 1947

Dear Papa,

Mama is upset because she ran into my math teacher at Nile Drug. “Isabelle is not applying herself,” she said. “She is more focused on her social relationships than her schoolwork.” SO? I am not a procrastinator as Mother says. I just lack interest in the pursuits which have been put before me up to this date. If you were here, you wouldn’t be this upset. After all, you did not go to college. You could make her understand that education is not the Living End. Dad just nods at me when Mama is giving her sermons. Now I have to do just enough so they don’t put me in parochial school.

Yours,

Isabelle

May 3, 1947

Dear Papa,

I’ve had it with classes like Home Economics and Physical Education. I want to EXPLORE. See the WORLD. This town is keeping me down. Why hasn’t Dad thought of travel for this family? He has the money. James Horner’s family travels all the time. He has even been to Canada.

Unhappily yours,

Isabelle

P. S. You would have taken me places, wouldn’t you?

July 14, 1947

Dear Papa,

I look lovely today. I have a new organdy dress. What is the occasion, you may wonder? A WEDDING! Irma and Stuart are married! Inez and I stood up with her and Ida was a flower girl. Irma looked as near to one of your angel friends as we’ll ever see here on Earth. I hope someday I have a wedding like this one along with a cute new house like the one Irma and Stuart are moving into over in Falcon Heights.

Uncle Edgar came to walk her down the aisle. Mr. Frank would have been honored to stand in for you, only he cannot go to a Lutheran Church service. He came to the reception even though it was in the church basement. I promised not to mention it to Sister Carmelita.

Uncle Bernard and Aunt Jaye were there. They sat on the groom’s side in the back and didn’t stay for the reception, but I saw them when I walked down the aisle and I know Irma did, too. At least they came.

Does having a married daughter make you feel old? It does Mama.

Love and hugs,

Isabelle

November 30, 1947

Dear Papa or should I say GRANDFATHER!

Irma is going to have a baby! She doesn’t look like it yet but it is for real, she said. I have promised to baby-sit. The baby will come in May. I’ll be an aunt. I’ll let you know as soon as it is born.

XOXOXO,

Isabelle

January 9, 1948

Dear Aunt Izzy,

Thank you for the baby yarn and patterns. I still have not learned to knit, but Mama said she would teach me so I can make things for the baby. Maybe after that I will make myself a red hat. I would like to see a picture of Mr. Right in the sweater you made him for Christmas!

Love,

Isabelle

May 23, 1948

Dear Papa,

I am an AUNT! Eunice Marie Swanson has arrived. We get to go see her on Wednesday. Wish you could come see her, too. Her nickname will be Eunie.

Love,

Isabelle

September 21, 1948

Dear Papa,

Here I am. Still in St. Paul. The farthest we got this summer was Rabbit Lake. Like every summer.

However, I can earn my own money and then I’ll travel. I am going to go over to the drugstore after school tomorrow and ask about a job. My first trip will be to California to see Aunt Izzy. I’ve been so bad about writing to her but I am sure she will let me come out anyhow.

How do you like them apples?

Love,

Isabelle

P. S. A late Happy Birthday!

September 22, 1948

Dear Papa,

Bad idea! I got home late today on account of walking to the drugstore after school. Mama was m-a-d mad. She’d already called Dad to go drive around looking for me.

When they found out what I was “up to” (even though the drugstore does not need help at the present time), they said, “Jobs at the drugstore are for girls from families who need the money. If you need something to keep you busy, we’ll find something to keep you busy.”