Letter of a Young Girl, 1927

Dearest Grandmother Bell,

Here in New York, there is much excitement as we all compete for the unusual reward of a large apple pie. When I first heard of such a prize, I scoffed at the notion, but my friend Pauline Dior soon convinced me otherwise with a taste of her papa’s own pie.

How do you win such a treasure, you may wonder? The actual competition is quite original, a race concocted by Mayor Lane. Every competing team must seek to build the most unique snowman.

Pauline has been reading this near me, and she would like me to tell you of what our snowman shall look like. In honor of Papa, we are creating a lawyer snowman. As you know, Papa is a lawyer—Mr. Francis Bell. As you also know, we have been living with the Diors, Pauline’s family. And Monsieur Dior is a wonderful chef. So Papa . . . is not thin anymore. One day, Pauline and I were watching him hurry down the street, when Pauline suddenly turned to me. “Violet!” she said delightedly. “We should make a lawyer snowman!”

Yes, Grandmother, it is rather unflattering that Pauline thought it up because of Papa’s inflated stomach. As long as we don’t tell him, it will be alright.

Everywhere, you can smell latkes and gingerbread, sugar and fruit. Our very kind neighbor, Mrs. Hannah, is Jewish, and she is firmly set upon creating a menorah snowman. Though everyone has told her that a menorah snowman is foolish, she is a bold woman.

“No, no, no!” she insisted, in conversation with Madame Dior yesterday morning. “I shall only set the arms ablaze right before the judging. Rude, the lot of you French are!”

The judges are Mayor Lane, of course, and the Swedish singer, Eva Johannsen. Nobody knows how Miss Johannsen is going to judge the snowmen. “Perhaps,” Pauline’s older brother, Leon, said, “she will see which snowman is most glamorous.”

I hope that you enjoy my letter. Cheers for winning the snowman contest and the apple pie!

Yours sincerely,

Violet C. Bell