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.”
That wasn’t the point, but again, they just don’t understand. So Dad jumped right to the phone, called Sister Carmelita, and has lined up for me to go work for the sisters at St. Joseph’s Orphan Home! Like I said before, I don’t have a talent for babies, and that goes for older children, too. But it is settled. I will start next week.
I.V.A.
November 11, 1948
Dear Papa,
We are back in the fold. Mama has decided that we should return to church so I can be confirmed.
“I already started drinking coffee,” I told her, “so what’s the point?”
“Don’t get smart with me,” she said.
“I thought you wanted me to be smart,” I said. And now I have to go to confirmation classes and stay in my room after school for a week. Is your mother in heaven? (I’m sure she is.) I’ll bet it is much easier to get along with her there.
I.V.A.
November 12, 1948
Dear Papa,
Punishing me with a week in my room is really punishing the orphans. I will miss two afternoons at St. Joseph’s. Those children depend on me. One boy, who is about the age Ian was when you died, will only speak out loud to me. To everyone else he just shakes or nods his head, depending on the situation. He saves up all kinds of stories for me, and I tell the whole group of orphans some of mine. I have had to start planning ahead though, as Sister Carmelita wants to know in advance what my story topic will be. She did not approve of last month’s story, though the children liked it very much. The sisters don’t get out to movies so they don’t understand modern society. These poor orphans are going to be mighty surprised when they leave here and find the rest of the world out there. For one thing, they all wear light blue uniforms every day. Choosing a wardrobe alone will be a daunting (adj., discouraging) task. I try to wear something up-to-date when I go so they can get some ideas.
I have a long evening ahead. I will draw you some pictures of current styles and of some movie stars, too.
Love,
Izzy (My friends call me that now! It makes Mother roll her eyes.)
March 11, 1949
Dear Papa,
Confirmation classes have not answered my question. How exactly are Catholics and Lutherans different to God? We only had a few lessons on Martin Luther, which started to explain things, but when the hour is up, there is no more time for questions.
It is strange to be Lutheran and go home from confirmation class and see Dad starving himself to get a soul out of purgatory, something Catholics do during Lent. I asked Pastor Grindahl if Lutherans could get sent to purgatory, but he just said, “Let’s stick to the text, please.”
Not much other news.
I don’t write often, but your picture is still on my wall.
Love,
Izzy
October 20, 1949
Dear Papa,
I did get confirmed after all. It was a bit close, as I didn’t pass the interview the first time. I still can’t believe they REALLY mean that the wine turns into Jesus’ blood at communion. I can’t think of it that way or I gag up there at the altar, but I finally said I believed it because Mama had a big party planned and there wasn’t time to call it off.
All our family was at the party. Aunt Jaye and Uncle Bernard came and Uncle Edgar, too. Dad couldn’t come to the service but he bought a corsage for my dress. I’ve decided something, Papa, and I hope with your experience up there you’ll agree with me. From what I can tell, Catholics and Lutherans have the same God. It has been a lot of work keeping our holy cards and Luther’s Small Catechism and everything else separate. I don’t think God would mind if our whole family went to a church service together sometimes, even if it is the Catholic service. I guess he’d just as soon hear me singing Catholic hymns as no hymns, and we say the Lord’s Prayer both places. I know by now you can’t tell me what you think, but there it is.
Mama always said we could start drinking coffee when we were confirmed but I have been doing it for years. So I don’t feel too different.
XOXOXO,
Izzy
May 9, 1950
Dear Papa,
Edward Johnson threw a little stone up at my window this evening. Ed is so tall he has to stoop to get through the doors at school. He can whistle any tune you can name and his smile is absolutely dreamy. Dad saw him out there and invited him in.
“Come on in, young man,” Dad said. “Better to talk to her than break her window.”
Thank goodness Ed had the presence of mind to say he must have the wrong house. He escaped through the backyard.
You would like him.
Love,
Izzy
May 13, 1950
Dear Papa,
Turns out Ed had the wrong window after all. He and Sylvia on the corner are now going steady. My heart has been torn asunder.
Your girl,
Izzy
December 25, 1957
Dear Papa,
I haven’t written now in seven years, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about you. It’s Christmas and I’m home with Mama and the whole family. One of my packages this year held the tin box with the Paris picture on it from my tenth birthday. It is filled with a stack of letters written in the wide cursive handwriting of a young girl. Our letters, Papa. It’s been so long, I’d nearly forgotten them.
A lot has changed on Mississippi River Boulevard. You wouldn’t know any of us now. Inez and Irma are married with four children each. Ian is in law school and Ida started at St. Catherine’s this fall. Mama and Dad are alone in the house with little Frankie, who’s not so little anymore.
I am an old maid of twenty-three, but life has been too busy for settling down as Irma and Inez say I should. I’ve been abroad and I finally found my vocation, though I guess it really found me years ago. People pay me to write. Aunt Izzy suggested a college for me in California and I lived with her for four years while I went to school. I am a reporter at the St. Paul Dispatch Pioneer Press and I’ve published two short stories in Women on the Job. Maybe one day I’ll write for the National Geographic and see the world. Or perhaps I will write a book about a certain filling station owner.
Mr. Frank has been my dad now longer than you were my Papa on Palace. He was good to me from the start, and I love him most for letting me love you best. And I still do (love you).
Une jeune fille très évoluée (Your girl with an independent attitude),
Isabelle
Anne Ylvisaker has published essays and magazine articles for adults, as
well as nonfiction books for children. She taught elementary school for twelve years and holds a master’s degree in education. She says, “A few years ago, my aunt told me about a lost childhood letter she’d written to her father just before he died. That lost letter consumed my imagination. The letter was never found, so I made up my own, and that was the beginning of Dear Papa.” Anne Ylvisaker lives in Iowa.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2002 by Anne Ylvisaker
Cover illustration copyright © 2002 by Lisa Franke
Cover photographs courtesy of the author
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
First electronic edition 2013
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows:
Ylvisaker, Anne.
Dear Papa / Anne Ylvisaker. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: In September of 1943, one year after her father’s death, nine-year-old Isabelle begins writing him letters, which are interspersed with letters to other members of her family, relating important events in her life and how she feels about them.
ISBN 978-0-7636-1618-2 (hardcover)
[1. Letters — Fiction. 2. Fathers and daughters — Fiction. 3. Family life — Minnesota — Fiction. 4. World War, 1939–1945 — United States — Fiction. 5. Minnesota — Fiction.]
I. Title.
PZ7.Y57 De 2002
[Fic] — dc21 2001037608
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