Non-fiction – Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author

As I began reading Leora’s Letters, the story of The Wilson Family by Joy Neal Kidney, it didn’t take me long to feel moved by the love, faith, and perseverance in this remarkable family. The tale begins with Leora and Clabe who were farmers in Perry, Iowa during WWII, but their story unfolded when one by one, their five sons enlisted, wanting to serve their country. During this period, the family stayed in touch by old fashioned letter writing initiated by Leora, and I felt honored to read the letters that were evidence of their solid family connection. But the intense silence was palpable during the times when Leora and Clabe waited for their sons to reply. I can only imagine the emotional turmoil.

The letters also reminded me of my parents’ story that commenced during WWII. They were engaged in 1942, then my dad was sent overseas. Handwritten letters were the glue that kept them connected for three years before Dad was honorably discharged in 1945. They were married soon after he arrived home. Theirs was a love that was everlasting, and February 24, 2012 would have been their sixty-seventh anniversary, but mom passed away on February 2^nd. However, if not for the letters floating back and forth, their story may not have been written. So, there is something exceptional to be noted about old fashioned letter writing, but unfortunately, this intimate gesture has faded with conveniences of technology.

Leora’s Letters may be a personal diary of The Wilson’s, but it also serves as history, reminding us that those who sacrificed their lives in war should not be forgotten. I knew the premise before I started the book, but I wasn’t aware of the details. As I continued from one chapter to the next, I sensed a dreadful anticipation. As a parent, I can’t fathom how Leora and Clabe felt, not knowing the whereabouts or wellbeing of their sons. I became teary-eyed as the story progressed, and at one point, I considered putting the book down for good. The heartache was overwhelming. Though the sorrow never subsided, I’m glad that I made it to the end.

Joy is the daughter of Doris Wilson Neal and the oldest granddaughter of Leora and Clabe’s. She is the keeper of her family’s history, so through intensive research, she beautifully crafted this book with the help of Robin Grunder. I commend Joy and Robin for such a well written and moving account. And I am still moved by Leora’s strength and courage to greet each new day for decades later despite the magnitude of loss she endured. I highly recommend this book because it profoundly touches on love, family, resilience, faith, loss, and the desire to move forward.

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I pulled this information from Joy’s blog, and I encourage you to visit her, allowing yourself to be swept up into the rich history that she shares.

Leora’s Letters: The Story of Love and Loss for an Iowa Family During World War II tells the story of the five Wilson brothers who are remembered on the Dallas County Freedom Rock® at Minburn, Iowa. Leora was their mother–Joy’s delightful grandmother.

Navymen Donald and Delbert Wilson. Pilots Dale, Danny, and Junior Wilson.

Joy the photobomber, so this was the day of the dedication, October 2019.

Joy has written many books on her family history, and they are available from Amazon.com in paperback, hardback, and ebook. Leora’s Dexter Stories and Leora’s Early Years are also in audio form, with “virtual voice.” I look forward to reading the rest of the series.

As always, thank you for stopping by,
and I hope you’ll click on the image above
to receive your copy of this most touching book.
And please visit Joy if you haven’t had the pleasure
of meeting her, yet. ❤️

Saturday arrived in its discreet mode, late afternoon around five o’clock. Cocktail hour for some. We relaxed on the tan patio sofa, and glasses of red and white sparkled from a touch of sunlight as they sat on the blue round table. Nothing stirred; no song of birds echoed in the trees. Our view of the street over the top of the redwood fence showed stillness. Not even the roof of an auto could be seen as it moved up the road. Only the ringing of chimes in the summer breeze could be heard. Huge billows of clouds in the vivid blue sky floated leisurely as if they had no pressing destination in mind. The warm breeze twirled like a welcomed embrace. The white, wicker rocker gently rocked back and forth…on its own.

Gabbing in hushed voices, it was not our intention, but the world was so tranquil that we didn’t want to distract from the meditative environment. August had already arrived, and yet, it seemed spring in her colorful fashion had just visited yesterday. How time swiftly passed as we grew older. We reminisced about Diane, my mother-in-law. Her birthday was approaching, and we missed her. The rocker kept rocking. Had her spirit joined us? She appreciated good wine too. Perhaps, she wished to indulge with her son and daughter-in-law, but another time, another place. Thirty-one fleeting years. Her life ended when our daughter’s had just begun. A mother lost; a baby girl born.

Our eyes on the rocker, forward then backward, and forward again. Her presence was sensed. We hoped for what some would believe to be impractical. But who were we to say what was possible or impossible? The universe and all it encompasses was too vast to attain that magnitude of knowledge. Maybe this serene, Saturday afternoon moment was the beginning of our ethereal tale to tell. Believing may just be the key component because we wanted to imagine her beautiful self in our company. If only for one more time.