Dear Leonardo

One must accept the 1990s as a formative decade in the fabric of Americana. As American as the Elk, so too is the tale of a young midwestern girl writing fan-mail to her favorite actor. Written from Fiona's perspective, reading and reliving those memories as an adult.

Chapter 1

Bloody Cursive

Why must I learn to write in this way Dad?

I remember the reason I started this at all.

It was second grade, 1995.

My teacher was a pretty avid football fan and a formidable lady.

The main goal of 2nd grade is to learn cursive script.

She was terrifying, everyday just terrifying, I remember her being tall, she smoked cigarettes, her hair was short tightly curled reddish blonde and she wore glasses. Beyond this I remember the shrillness and bass of her voice in equal pace toward traumatizing each and every member of my class. and her pointy, cat eye glasses.

I would not learn until much later in life that she had actually played a pivotal role in changing the trajectory of my life that year. I am sure I wrote about that in one of these letters to Leo, I was heart broken.

As I look at this Lisa Frank brand stationary I am blown way back to the time. The small purple envelope, with a rainbow wrapped diagonally across.

On the front in pretty wretched penmanship was written,

“To Mister Leonardo DiCaprio:”

There is no address, there is no return address, as if I was going to magically hand it to him passing classes even though he is older than I, in a different place, and certainly not aware of my existence. Made even more outlandish by the fact that I was still only just in second grade.

That year in school we had to learn to write cursive, we used an overhead projector system and we had plastic sheets with grease pencils over templates. If you are a baby to this world, the grease pencil was the precursor to the Dry-Erase marker. I always seemed to compulsively tear at the paper on the pencil too far and suddenly I was left with just the small greasy interior to write with while scraps of perforated paper and a string littered my desk.

My teacher did not like me.

I was a goody two shoes, know-it -all in her eyes. What I lacked in physical hyper-activity I made up for in mental hyper-activity, I annoyed her. Though I just wanted to be a good student and finish school as soon as possible. This was the first time I had come into difficulty in advanced learning, her curriculum did not allow for learning beyond what was prescribed and I was being raised to never stop seeking learning, this was my first foray into non-consensual education.

It was this teacher’s distinct pleasure to remind all of us that we were small insignificant 2nd graders at our small insignificant neighborhood school. Nothing was hoped of us and so we might as well embrace our mediocrity.

Thinking now she seemed depressed in her own rite for reasons I will never know. She kept the cycle of abuse alive and well within each of us and reminded us of our short-comings often. Feedback is hard to swallow sometimes and everyday in this lady’s class we were each confronted with negative feedback from a teacher that was scary and abrasive.

When we got to learning to write the letter P, I had a lot of trouble. I am not sure why but my brain wanted to skip a stroke and my lower case P often looked like a lower case J. I was upset, one day I asked my dad why I even needed to learn to write in this way.

While cursive is now second nature for me. When one begins it is difficult to handle all the loops, curls, and odd extraneous lines. Some people never learn to write English in this way. It has now become an obsolete skill as a result of the technological revolution. We hardly had the internet yet, our school had three Apple 2 computers this was the Oregon Trail era. The last sputter of time when penmanship and proper print handwriting was still being taught in schools.

My dad who was a stay at home dad at that point in my life; in comforting his daughter from the horrors of 2nd grade, said to me,

“Don’t worry about that teacher, we will find a way to make your penmanship better.”

It was my dad’s bright idea that I start writing letters.

First, it was to my friend Cynthia who had moved away at the beginning of 2nd grade.

Then to my grandmother and godmother.

Finally to really hammer the penmanship lesson home. I was to pick one of the guys from my latest issue of BOP and write to him. I remember taking the bus to a store with him and picking out the coolest stationary we could find and getting the latest edition of BOP. I remember getting the tigers and the orca stationary. Lisa Frank was top of the line kid stationary at that time, very chic. That weekend while watching re-runs and flipping through my BOP Magazine I made the decision.

It is important to note that in 1995 there was no shortage of handsome young actors to choose from.

Let’s see, there was any one of the swoon worthy Lawrence Brothers. Joey, Matthew or little Andy.

I could have picked Andrew Keegan, Devon Sawa, or the ever popular JTT (Jonathan Taylor Thomas).

I thought about writing to the Backstreet Boys, or any member of the Boy Meets World cast.

I considered any one of The Goonies, and Michael J Fox for sure.

I finally fell to the particular re-run I was watching which was The Growing Pains. I loved this show, for an 8 year old who likely missed some themes I loved it. I dreamed our garage would have an apartment just like Mike Seaver.

The episode I was watching featured Leonardo, as Luke the foster kid. I wasn’t allowed to see This Boy’s Life until I was older but I knew that kid from What’s Eating Gilbert Grape...Which I was allowed to see?

I feel like the rating system has always been a little fuzzy for my parents. I saw Gorillas in the Mist and The Neverending Story well before any child should have.

In whatever scene I looked up to see on the TV; in that moment, the only thing that sits firmly in my mind was the most genuine smile I had ever seen on screen. I picked Leonardo to write to without a second thought.

Meanwhile, back in school, there was one bright shiny for me in this class. His name was Felix. My name is Fiona. So, as it had been from Kindergarten; Felix and I were line partners, and seat neighbors. He was my school twin, the boy in my class from the moment I could remember school at all. Since Cyndi had moved away, I didn’t really have many friends. Although, I wanted to be everyone’s friend.

More than anything that year Felix and I had bonded on three things the first was that we were destined to be something to one another at some point in life if not right now in 2nd grade. The second was that we were deeply entrenched in our school soccer team. The third was that we both competed to do our best in class every single day in the hopes that we would be accepted into the Gifted and Talented school our public school system had which only allowed students from the 3rd grade to 5th grade, and farmed from the neighborhood school system.

Yikes, I guess I didn’t realize how much of this year was so stuck in my brain taking up valuable real estate, rent-free.

I fumbled the letter around in my hand what nonsense had I written to Leonardo to document the trauma of 2nd grade?

I grabbed a letter opener from my dad’s office and gently tore the letter open.

November 1995

Dear Leonardo,

My name is Fiona. My dad wanted me to write to you, That way I can make my penmanship good. I am from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I think the cool things we have here is cheese, cows and a big lake. Oh! Yeah! We have Noah’s Ark, it’s not actually Noah’s Ark but it is a swimming place. I like to go there in the summer and we go to the pizza pup and ride on Ducks after.

I do not like my teacher, she is really mean. The other day we had to make the stuff for a Packer Party. I do not like football, It seems dumb. I play soccer for my school. it is really not the same game. You probably know that. My mom is calling me for dinner.

So I will write again,

Fiona.

I chuckled as I threw the letter on the bed. Well, I was such a little Wisconsinite from the start.

I look at the giant dog still peering at me from the corner of the room and say,

“I expected a love letter, didn’t you?

Well, ope geez, looks like you got yourself a WiscAnsin girl there, a little 2nd grade diplomat of the State. Apparently, I needed to let Leonardo know about the cheese game strength, the Cows and Lake Michigan. Plus Noah’s Ark and the Pizza “pup”! Not to mention Football culture. I am and always will be a true ambassador of my home, I suppose.

Lord, I am glad I never sent this.

The Pizza Pub was a restaurant in the Wisconsin Dells, and Noah’s Ark is a waterpark across the road from it or where it used to be. I do have fond memories there. The Wisconsin Dells is a natural wonder and the Wisconsin river a mighty force to its own. They offer Duck rides, in old WWII all terrain vehicles, it is pretty majestic. This land just like all of our land deserves to be respected and honored if I knew this as a child I certainly know this now more than ever as an adult.

I can see I was spot on about that teacher though. Really someone could have told me when I started soccer that it is football and American football is not football at all. I think I just found American Football dumb at that time because my teacher was so into it. I even remember having another teacher in 10th grade that was so into Packer’s football that she gave me flashbacks to 2nd grade.

The psychology of trauma response is fascinating. for instance, why is this so vivid in my memories and why now after a very traumatic happening does this pervade my thoughts? I don’t really understand what my childhood experiences have to do with what happened to me last year.

OOH another one that looks to be from the same stationary, and it is a thick one! Oh boy, here we go.

April 1996

Dear Leonardo,

The other day at school it was raining pretty bad and Felix usually walks with me to the crossing guard to meet my dad, since we are getting older and all. Dad doesn’t have to get me from the door anymore. Anyway it was raining bad like cats and dogs so we had indoor recess. Anyway at the end of school Felix ran up to me and asked if I would be his girlfriend.

I was standing in the hall by the door and my face felt really hot. I had my purple Beauty and the Beast raincoat on. I didn’t know what to say. I am not supposed to have a boyfriend. so I just said can we wait until we are older? We are too young to have heart trouble.

I don’t think I said the right thing. Felix doesn’t want to walk to the crossing guard with me anymore. I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings, I do like him. I don’t know about having boyfriends and girlfriends, nobody really told me about it. I just know about movies and movies are not real so you can’t trust them. I found more time to write to you today. It is a saturday and I just got back from soccer, we won, Felix is a really good forward, he did not want to talk to me at soccer too.

That rainy day my grandmother’s basement flooded so me and my whole family had to go there and save stuff from the flood. My granpa died a couple of years ago and we had to throw out all of his Nat Geos. That was one of the best things about my grandpa and there was only one that we could save. It is pretty sad. Dad brought it home.

I wanted to tell you that we rented The Quick and the Dead on Blockbuster night! Dad said I could see it since it was just a Western. Sometimes I think my mom doesn’t like that dad and dad’s family let me watch TV and movies with them. Oh well, she is always at work and doesn’t much care about me since my older sister is so crazy. I am much younger then her and she doesn’t really care about me either, I am just babysitting money to her.

I really liked the movie, I was sad when Kid died though that was pretty tough. My uncle says we are called movie buffs, and when all my cousins come to town we have sleepovers and watch all the movies in order. He and I have been watching things like Lawrence of Arabia and some of what he calls the old MGM stuff lately. I fall asleep sometimes watching the movies. My Aunt and Uncle watch me sometimes so my parents can have a break. It did make me curious about special effects, are the guns real but fake bullets? like fireworks instead? That seems scary.

My Mom says it takes me a long time to write you a letter because I am afraid I won’t write the right word or I don’t want to waste paper when I make a mistake in spelling. My mom’s handwriting is really good. like way better then dad’s, her and our neighbor both have really good hand writing. They let me see how they sign their name. Do you have a special signature? I am going to work on mine and make it fancy. My mom writes the big words out for me so I can see how they should look so that takes time. You are probably so busy. I am sure you don’t have the time to read a letter like this.

Best Wishes,

Fiona

My goodness. What a deep dive for my precocious young self. I remember that rainy day. It was pretty terrible. My first chance at love walked off. Then all that we had left of my Grandpa was lost, well almost everything, I still have the one hardcover Nat Geo. It was the only surviving edition from a huge library that included every single edition of the magazine. That was such a crushing blow to my family that I could hardly fathom. Even today thinking about the time alone it took my grandfather to curate that collection; all lost in one day of unseasonably hard rain. Mind Blowing.

First, he was gone then all I had to remember him by was gone as well. Most of them had been read to me, or I just gently flipped through for the photos at the kitchen table. My family is much older than I, they had many memories of my Grandfather, I had very few. I remember at his funeral everyone cried but I didn’t. I didn’t understand death, I still don’t understand death. Grief is such a hard lesson to learn, either it breaks a person or they are generally unfazed.

I remember my dad and my uncle had to trash their old rooms that day as well. All that really made it out was anything on upper shelves and most of our canned harvest from the previous year.

I see my lovely sister made her debut in my letters to Leonardo. What a pain! She will probably feature prominently in my nightmare years if I recall correctly.

I really did spend my early years sad and bitter because my mom worked so much. I did not comprehend, and even still it puts a twinge in my heart when she does not commit to something because she needs to work. I love her anyway, and I hope that I can provide her with an awesome retirement for all of the care she put into raising the both of us. While there was and is so much about this life I do not fully comprehend, loving my parents unconditionally is something I do fully comprehend. They did their best and do their best each day and I love them for it.

It looks like I was keen to elaborate on my movie trivia in this letter. Good job little Fiona. I name dropped old MGM. That is hilarious. Also Lawrence of Arabia, there is no way I understood half of what was going on in that EPIC and I am quite certain I kept falling asleep when we put it on. Don’t get me wrong, Lawrence of Arabia is up there on the lists for being one great film, however, 8 year old me was obviously looking to impress. The Quick and the Dead though; Bravo little Fiona. Sharon Stone, and Gene Hackman as well as Leo. It was a pretty awesome movie at that time. I do remember how it hurt my heart a little when Kid died. I was rooting for him. No matter what roles this man takes I have found myself even still always rooting for them.

Blockbuster nights used to be my very favorite. My dad and I would walk the 2 blocks from our house and we would peruse the sections of blue boxes together before making our decision. When we got home we would make popcorn and start the show. I would sit in my dad’s chair and he would usually lay on the floor with his hands behind his head for a pillow. This was a special time for us. Mom and Ollie might watch the movie or they might not. Ollie says all the time that she is GenX so she only needs her Mountain Dew, the Nintendo and MTV. She would hardly let me touch the Nintendo. I did get to play Duck Hunt if she was not home sometimes, then we would all keep it a secret from her. I was not called down the video game path like she had been.

I thought there was another letter from this time?

I am not sure where it is. I thought it was in between these two. I will keep looking. Maybe it is lost in the shuffle. As I tossed various papers around in the trunk, I came across the next sealed envelope.

This envelope is red, it is definitely a Christmas card I think this is the missing piece for this year. There is a poorly hand drawn Christmas tree with an oversized star scrawled on the envelope. This one reads,

“ To: Leo

From: Fiona “

December 1995

Dear Leonardo,

Seasons greetings from my family to yours. My mom and I are writing out our Christmas cards today. I only have three to write but she is sending about a million. She said I could use her cards, She is very proud of her Thomas Kinkade Christmas cards. She calls him the “Painter of Light” I see what she is saying but I don’t know if I like it. It is almost like parts of his paintings glow in the dark. It is very weird I picked out the best one for this letter. My mom says that for Christmas cards you write the letter separate of the card and then fold it and put it inside, so if you mess up, you do not mess up the card. It makes sense to me. My cursive is really getting better so practicing writing letters is helping. My teacher is really crazy lately about football, I hope our team loses so she talks about something else.

She made us do a science experiment the other day in class, everyone got half a straw and we were told to breathe through it for 5 minutes. Then she told us this is what it is like to smoke cigarettes. I think my sister has been smoking too but I never see her do it. It was hard to breathe through the straw, I did not like it. Is that what we should learn in school? Somedays I think about how you go to school. Do you have a tutor? Does your teacher come to the set? Did you ever do this kind of lesson in 2nd grade? I told my mom about it and she was pretty upset. I think my mom also does not like my teacher now. I don’t really know why. I wish I could stay home so mom and dad and maybe grandma could be my teachers, I like Art class and Science and we don’t get to do that too much at home.

At our last soccer game before Christmas break, the mail arrived right before me and dad left to go to the game. My letter from the Gifted and Talented School came. My dad said it would be alright if I opened it after the game, so he put it in his pocket and we went to catch the bus. I thought it would be fun to read the letter with Felix and my dad at the game, Felix’s mom was there too. She is so nice! Felix said before I read mine that he did not get in. That made me sad, then I opened my letter and I mis-read it at first, I guess I was put on a waiting list. I also did not get into the special school. I just looked at my dad and I cried a lot. Felix’s Mom gave me a hug and then she gave Felix and I money to get blue power-ades so she could talk to my dad. I am still very sad. The kids at that school have a drama department, and they learn a foreign language, They also get passports and go to Denmark when you get to 5th grade. I don’t know what I did so that they would not let me in, I also do not know why they didn’t let Felix in. He is better at math then me and he is really good at Gym class. I am not very excited for Christmas. I just wanted to get into that school. My mom thought writing to you would cheer me up. I wish I could be my own teacher. Maybe 3rd grade will be better.

Merry Christmas,

Fiona

This was it, the ugly Thomas Kinkade Card. I remember it so well. This was the second letter. I was so sad, I thought my teacher was the reason Felix and I did not get into the Gifted and Talented School. I was heartbroken. My sister went to a private school at this point. I just wanted a decent shake at success with the only opportunity that was in front of me from the public schools. I had been speaking since I was a baby, I could read before I entered Kindergarten, I started chapter books in 1st grade. I just could not understand what could possibly have kept my life off this trajectory. It was her and I knew it. This teacher that did not like me. I wouldn’t find out until years later that my hunch was true.

She had given Felix, myself and a few other students poor recommendations for this school. Though we were qualified candidates for this program we were each waitlisted because of the recommendation of our 2nd grade teacher.

This became a controversy at our Elementary school, a kindergarten teacher that Felix and I never even had; had seen which students from our school were selected and which were not. She launched an entire inquiry into why we did not get into the special school. My grandmother made my mom cry about not including my dad’s and my heritage on the application. I did not even know that Ollie and I weren’t from the same dad until, Ollie used it against me years later.

It ended with a conference with my parents, Felix’s mom and some other parents from my class and finding out that our teacher had lied to keep us in the local neighborhood school we were at. Our principal even got involved. Though it did not change the outcome when I was finally told the reason I did not get into this school I felt validated and seen. I did not actually learn of this until I was in Middle School.

For years I considered myself less than for not getting into this stupid school for 3rd until 5th grade. When I reflect on education as an adult, this was the first time I was turned off from the entire American public school experience. How could I trust a teacher after that? Had I not worked hard enough, had I known too much, was my cursive not good enough?

When a teacher makes a child feel as if they are not enough, it is that person’s obligation to step away from the profession. She instilled in me the belief that I was not gifted nor talented. She crushed my soul at such a young age. I believed then and I do believe now my teacher should have been fired. This woman, this football fiend of a teacher should not have been able to change the trajectory of students’ lives with one piece of paperwork, and continue to be a teacher there-after with no recourse. I never went down that hall or out of that door for the remaining 3 years at that school.