Dear Papa by Anne Ylvisaker

tired.
    Love,
    Isabelle
    September 28, 1944
    Dear Aunt Izzy,
    None of the Chatty Pigtails go to church. Sylvia says it is what we feel in our hearts that counts. Her dad says enjoying nature is getting as close to God as he needs. If I wanted to go to the Lutheran Church, I’d have to go alone now. Mama goes to Mass sometimes with Mr. Frank, and once she took the two little kids, but usually he goes alone and we stay home. Mama feels no more need for organized religion. What do you think?
    I am writing a report about Minnesota for school. It takes a lot of my time. If the penmanship isn’t perfect, Miss Green will return it, she says.
    Love,
    Isabelle
    October 20, 1944
    Dear Papa,
    I have a new best friend. Her name is Mary and we both like peas but not beets. We are the exact same height and neither of us has a father. (Hers died in the war, of course.) Roller skating is our favorite sport. We are going to skate every day until it snows. Mary lives three blocks closer to school than we do so I pick her up on the way. She sings where I do not, but we are both Lutheran. She is in the choir at Our Savior’s and has invited me to join her. Thanks all the same, I told her, but I am not currently attending services. She said I could just come to practice. Maybe I will.
    Bye!
    Isabelle
    November 12, 1944
    Dear Papa,
    Irma has had word from Stuart. He is still alive. No one has heard from Charlie, though. If there really is such a thing as guardian angels, could you send one out to look for him?
    Mama’s baby is going to be big, judging from the size of her dresses. There are more Responsibilities around here for everyone now.
    From,
    Isabelle
    December 18, 1944
    Dear Papa,
    Christmas vacation at last! Mary and I plan to ice-skate every day with the Chatty Pigtails.
    Everyone is watching Mama now. When she coughs, Mr. Frank jumps. When she sighs, we all put our forks down.
    “I’ve done this before, everyone,” Mama says. “Watching me won’t make it happen any quicker.”
    We try to act like we aren’t watching, but we are. I’ll let you know as soon as it’s born!
    Love,
    Isabelle
    December 25, 1944
    Dear Papa,
    Ian got a brother! (The rest of us, too.) Franklin Delano Colletti was born today along with Jesus. (Did you know that there is a town in Minnesota named Delano?) Mama is fine and Mr. Frank says we can all go to the hospital tomorrow to see them both. Ida moved into my room and we made her room all over for Franklin. We’ll call him Frankie, I think. (Or we could call him Mr. President!)
    I embroidered a towel for him to be a baby blanket. I’m going to wrap him all up and rock him back and forth and tell him stories of his step-papa Nils.
    Merry Christmas!
    Love,
    Isabelle

 
    January 6, 1945
    Dear Aunt Izzy,
    Thank you for the Christmas presents for all of us. Frankie will love his teddy bear. For now, Ida is sleeping with it. I love the blouse you sewed me but I will have to wait a while to wear it. We wear long sleeves in Minnesota nearly until June, at least until May.
    This is a drawing of little Frankie. He is about as light to hold as a slice of toast. Well, maybe a whole sandwich, but light.
    Love,
    Isabelle
    January 18, 1945
    Dear Papa,
    I am finding that I do not have such a talent for babies. Frankie cries when I hold him and I stuck him with a diaper pin twice. He makes me impatient with all his sleeping. Ian hopes he grows up fast. Mama says we cried in the night, too. Is that true? Frankie does not look much like the rest of us. His hair is black. His eyes are brown.
    More soon,
    Isabelle
    P. S. I’m wondering if Frankie is Catholic. Isn’t it about time for a baptism?
    February 12, 1945
    Dear Papa,
    Mama does not want me calling Mr. Frank “Mr. Frank” anymore. She says it embarrasses her in public. She says it hurts Mr. Frank’s feelings because Ida and Ian call him “Papa Frank” and sometimes just plain “Papa.” I’ve heard them. She thinks it is high time I do that, too.
    “I