Dear Papa by Anne Ylvisaker Page B

your feelings. I was so mad about what happened at school today and Mama was busy with Frankie, and Ida and Ian were fighting and then Mr. Frank came home and chose me out of the whole crowd of us to lean his shorter arm on and ask “How’s things?” and then I spilled it all out and told him about getting four wrong on the spelling test and my teacher announcing the scores out loud and the puddle on the way home and I even called him
Papa
Frank. I didn’t mean to. If I were Catholic, I could go to confession. But I pulled it together by dinner and just told my lost sheep joke and came up here to do my homework.
    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