Authors: Anne Ylvisaker
July 1, 1944
Dear Papa,
I am ten today. When you died, I was eight. I look pretty much the same except taller with bigger feet. I got lots of presents. Just like Eleanor. Roller skates, two dresses, paper, pencils, and from Aunt Izzy a picture frame. She put in it a picture she took of all of us when we were in California that one time. You had me on one knee and Ian on the other. Aunt Jaye sent me a box with embroidery supplies in it and a Luther’s Small Catechism. “Remember you are Lutheran and we love you,” she said in their card. Mr. Frank gave me a box. It is tin and has a picture of the Eiffel Tower in Paris on it. “For your special correspondence,” he wrote. I don’t know what he means, but I will put your letters in it. And he gave me Catholic beads called a rosary. They’d go nice with my sailor dress but are not to be worn as a necklace. He also gave me a storybook doll. Mine is a nun. Eleanor has the bride doll. Mama gave me a book. It has a green leather cover, soft as one of your car cloths. Inside are just lines, no words. “Write us some tall tales,” Mama said. There was cake and ice cream. It was just the family, as too many people wear Mama out, but that was okay. Uncle Bernard, Aunt Jaye, and the rest are probably busy planning their Fourth of July party anyhow.
Your double-digit daughter,
Isabelle Anderson
July 3, 1944
Dear Papa,
Aunt Izzy is still here. She can’t buy 1234 of course, which I had planned. She is only here for a visit after all. Mama let her stay here even though she did not come for your funeral. Mr. Frank likes Aunt Izzy. The cat (Mr. Right) likes Ian. Aunt Izzy played with us kids while Mama rested. Aunt Izzy can raise one eyebrow up at a time, just like you did. She has a high voice like a lonely bird. I guess you know all that. But maybe you don’t know this. She moved to California for LOVE! It didn’t work out though. He did not go to church or believe in God. She thought Love was bigger than God. But she found out it isn’t and she ended up with a cat instead.
Tomorrow is Independence Day. I wonder what they are doing in Zumbrota.
Love,
Isabelle Anderson
July 4, 1944
Dear Papa,
Did you see the fireworks in heaven? We stayed up until dark and Mr. Frank lit sparklers in the backyard. We were going to go to his family picnic today but Mama didn’t feel good.
Happy Birthday to the United States of America.
Love,
Isabelle Anderson
July 5, 1944
Dear Papa,
Guess who is going to have a baby?!
From,
Isabelle Anderson
July 6, 1944
Dear Papa,
Will Mama still want us here when Mr. Frank is the papa of this baby?
From,
Isabelle Anderson
July 7, 1944
Dear Papa,
Will the new baby be Catholic or Lutheran? When we all die, will the baby go to heaven like us? Aunt Izzy doesn’t seem to know for sure.
Still hot,
Isabelle Anderson
July 8, 1944
Dear Papa,
The baby will come at Christmastime. That’s a long time for Mama to be tired. She’s tired, Papa, but this time her spirits are high.
Aunt Izzy is helping me with the book about you. She said there were quite a few things that weren’t exactly right but that I could leave it as it is and just call it Historical Fiction. That sounds like it should go in a library so I am going to continue. We are adding a chapter about the shenanigans you pulled as a boy. I am letting her write that one. I asked Mama if I could interview her for the “Courting, Marriage, and Early Years of Family Life” chapter but she said that book’s been written, read, and put on the shelf. I’ll have to look for it. Ian is getting to be a good artist like Jimmy so I asked him to make lots of drawings. I am even letting him use some of the new pencils that came with my birthday pack of paper. I hope we see the nun again so I can show her the completed book.
From,
Who else?
July 13, 1944
Dear Papa,
The train took Aunt Izzy away today. It was all packed with servicemen going to meet Uncle Sam. They were hanging out of the windows in their sailor hats. Their duffel bags were crowding the floor. There almost wasn’t room for her.
I had just gotten used to having Aunt Izzy comb my hair and stir up the talk at dinner and now she’s gone. Who will play cribbage with me? She left her board here. She was going to leave Mr. Right, too, but when she heard our history with pets she decided to let us visit him instead. Mama and Aunt Izzy hugged and hugged today. Mama cried. I want to tie a string on the wrists of all my favorite people and tie them all to my wrist. Going to the bathroom would be a problem.
The baby will be Mr. Frank’s real child and Mama’s real child but my half brother or sister. Will the baby be related to you at all? I should have asked Aunt Izzy before she left.
With love,
Isabelle V. Anderson
July 14, 1944
Dear Papa,
Seven weeks until school starts.
“Why don’t you get out and play with some neighborhood children?” Mama asks.
I believe I will.
On my way out,
Isabelle
July 15, 1944
Dear Papa,
I led Ian and Ida on an adventure today to stay out of Mama’s way. We walked twice all the way around the block and drew a map of where the houses are and which ones we think have children. Then we picked out one where the children were outside and walked on up.
We met Sylvia, Betty, and Shirley — named after Shirley Temple — ten, eight, and six. Their house looks all-covered-in-vines spooky and they said it is spooky inside, too, except they are used to it. Probably ghosts live on the third floor, Betty said.
“Ha!” said Ian.
“We’ll show you,” said Shirley, and they did. We didn’t see any ghosts and didn’t hear any either but we pretended we were hiding out from Nazis. Ian was the air raid warden. Then we played we were orphans. They had never met any stepchildren before or anyone whose father died of an allergic reaction or ran a filling station. They go to private school.
We’re going back to their house tomorrow.
From,
Isabelle
July 20, 1944
Dear Eleanor,
Hi! How are you? I am fine. I have some new friends. You would like them, too. They live in a haunted house. I am going to get another brother or sister. Do you see my Aunt Jaye and Uncle Bernard? Do you play with Sue Joan Warick or any of the other kids from school? What about LeRoy Pence? Are there any more stars in the windows on Grandview?
From,
Isabelle
July 21, 1944
Dear Aunt Izzy,
We found one of Mr. Right’s cat toys under Ian’s bed. We will save it here for your next visit, which I hope will be soon. How much does it cost to ride the train? Maybe I could come and visit you in California. I will wait for an invitation, though. I am sure it would be educational to visit another state. I could help you plant a victory garden. We are working hard on ours. The corn is up to my waist almost. The visit will have to be after July, though, because we are pretty busy playing with the girls at the corner house, the one with all the vines. We are turning their third floor into our clubhouse. The Chatty Pigtails is the name of our club. Ian doesn’t have a pigtail but he can join anyhow. If you would like to send us a postcard, we will put it on the clubhouse wall. Mama is going to write a note to you on the back of my letter. Bye!
Isabelle
July 23, 1944
Dear Irma,
Have you forgotten us? Mama is going to have a baby. Inez is signed up for college at St. Catherine’s. It is okay, she says, because Mr. Frank (who’s really Dr. Frank) is Catholic. Are you going to go to college? I am not so much of a crybaby as you remember from before we moved. Ida is, though. Ian is as tall as me and has bigger feet. How about you?
Your sister (but not in the nun way!),
Isabelle
August 1, 1944
Dear Papa,
Mr. Frank smokes a pipe. It is his birthday so we gave him a new pipe. Mama gave us the money and we took the streetcar downtown like the old days. She told us right where to find one and we did. He is really Dr. Frank. But I am used to Mr. Frank by now.
From,
Isabelle
August 13, 1944
Dear Papa,
Mama is getting a big belly under her dress. Big enough that people at church know she has a baby under there. We haven’t been to church in a long time, but we went back this week.
“Hold your head high, smile, and don’t give out unnecessary details,” Mama told us on the way there. She walked us clear up to the fourth row, where everyone could stare at the back of our heads. I liked it when you used to lead us into the back pew. “Easy in, easy out,” you said, and you were right. From the front rows it is not easy out. We had to creep up the aisle afterward, talking to every busymind. I held my head so high my neck hurts. My face hurts from smiling. Mama shared the basics of her story with all the ladies. Remarried, enjoying life on Mississippi River Boulevard, looking forward to the little Christmas present. Just enough there to keep Beverly’s mother filling in the details for weeks. I hope we don’t do that again soon! What will happen if we keep not going to church, though?
From,
Isabelle
August 15, 1944
Dear Papa,
I think Mama doesn’t want to go back to church anymore. I heard her ask Mr. Frank what it would take to get us all changed to Catholic.
So today I started Lutheran lessons for Ian and Ida. I heard about purgatory from Eleanor and I don’t want us floating around space for years waiting to see you. I brought the Luther’s Small Catechism from Aunt Jaye to our clubhouse at Sylvia, Betty, and Shirley’s. They don’t have one Bible in the house so I brought over one of ours. No one will miss it, as it was very dusty on the top shelf. They don’t go to any church at all so they are in on the lessons, too.
Maybe Mr. Frank is the wolf in sheep’s clothing that Pastor Grindahl was talking about in last Sunday’s sermon. Maybe the Catholics sent him to get another family for their church. I gave him back the rosary beads and reminded him that we are Lutheran.
Don’t worry. We will be ready to stand up for Lutherans.
Today’s lesson was the Ten Commandments.
Honoring my father,
Isabelle
August 21, 1944
Dear Papa,
Sylvia, Betty, and Shirley are gone clear until school starts. We forgot they were leaving today and left all our things in the clubhouse. Now we have no catechism to study and Ian’s baseball card collection is there, too. If we borrow a Bible and a hymnal and a catechism from the church, would that be stealing? We would be saving members for the church. I’d ask Pastor Grindahl but I don’t want to have to share any unnecessary details.
From,
Isabelle
August 24, 1944
Dear Papa,
Mr. Frank is taking us all to a lake cottage for a week. He has traded meat stamps for gas stamps with one of the people at the hospital. He thinks the cool lake breezes would be good for Mama. We have no choice, of course. If we stay here, we have lots of gas but no meat. But look at the date of my letter. If we go now we will miss the State Fair! NO FAIR! I think he really is a spy sent from the Catholics. I’ll bet we have to catch fish on Friday, too.
Notice that we will be out of town for two Sundays. That will bring our total of church services missed to 11 this summer, with only one attended. That is one thing Mr. Frank and Mama argue about. He goes to Mass on first Fridays and on Sundays and to Novena on Wednesdays. He says he prays for us. I hope God doesn’t count those Catholic prayers against us. Probably Aunt Jaye’s prayers cancel his out.
It doesn’t bother me so much as I thought it would, not going to church on a Sunday morning, or missing Sunday school either. Actually Sunday mornings have been rather relaxing. Ida and Ian come on in my room where I lead them in a little service, just to let Jesus know we are not heathens or Catholics. Then we pretty much get to do as we please as long as we keep it down.
From,
Isabelle
August 24, 1944
Dear Eleanor,
I am sorry I will not be able to invite you to go to the State Fair this year. My family is going on Vacation. We will be driving north for more than three hours to stay at a Lake Resort.
Maybe next summer.
From,
Isabelle
August 26, 1944
Dear Papa,
Rabbit Lake has no rabbits that I can see, but there is a lake for sure. There are six cabins here and six docks. We have one of each plus a rowboat. All the kids sleep in one room. Kind of like the old days on Palace with me and Ida together again. The sun shines only on the lake because the pines are so thick on land. I am sitting in one right now! Seven branches up from the ground. It smells like Christmas in here.
This is a picture of Ian dropping an oar in the middle of Rabbit Lake. The other boat is Mr. Finley from the next cabin over rowing to our rescue.
Your camper,
Isabelle
August 28, 1944
Dear Aunt Izzy,
Hello from the North! We are at Rabbit Lake Resort. Ian has poison ivy on his legs. Mr. Right would love it here. There are mice in all the cabins. You would like it, too. There is lots of time for games. I have been playing whist with some kids at the lodge. Being Catholic still applies on vacation, but fish does taste better when you catch it yourself. Maybe next year you could come with us!
Love,
Isabelle
August 29, 1944
Dear Papa,
Hello again from Rabbit Lake!
I’ve been thinking about what I have told you so far about Mr. Frank. Maybe I have given you a bad impression. Since he never knew you, he couldn’t have meant to actually steal your family. I am looking out for the Lutheran Church, though.
I learned to fish! I caught four yesterday, a new family record. Maybe they’ll put my big one on the wall next to the deer head in the lodge.