Joanne Culley received her MA in English Literature from the University of Toronto. She is an award-winning writer and documentary producer whose work has appeared in The Globe and Mail, The Peterborough Examiner, Local Parent, Kawartha Cottage, Kawartha Homes, Zoomer Magazine, Our Canada, and on CBC, Bravo Network, Rogers Television, TVOntario, and more.
Joanne won the Media Award for Television at the In Celebration of Women Awards in 2001. She grew up in Toronto and now lives in Peterborough, Ontario.
In Love in the Air: Second World War Letters, Joanne tells the wartime love story of her parents, 24-year-old Helen Reeder and 29-year-old Harry Culley.
Separated for two and a half years during the Second World War, Helen and Harry write about their experiences and emotions in their extensive correspondence, while deepening their mutual devotion.
Helen writes about her work at the Department of Munitions and Supply and later the Toronto Transportation Commission, while Harry tells about bringing music to Allied troops, civilians, celebrities and royalty as part of the Royal Canadian Air Force dance and concert bands.
By blending excerpts from their letters with a narrative inspired by the correspondence and historical background, Joanne brings to life this unique story of enduring love amidst global turmoil.
Love in the Air: Second World War Letters is available in softcover, hardcover and e-book formats in the Peterborough Public Library, the local section at Chapters Peterborough, at www.friesenpress.com, Amazon, and most online retailers. A portion of the proceeds will go to the Trent Valley Literacy Association.
There’ll be a book signing at Chapters Indigo (873 Lansdowne St., Peterborough) on Saturday, May 9th from 1 p.m. to 4 p.m. — a day after the 70th anniversary of Victory in Europe Day.
An excerpt from Love in the Air: Second World War Letters by Joanne Culley (Friesen Press, 2015)
Introduction
While clearing out their house after my father’s death (my mother had died twelve years earlier), I came upon that same box in the bottom dresser drawer. Not knowing what to do with it, I took it home and stowed it away in my closet. I didn’t want to break the confidence of the parents I had loved so much, and who had loved each other. But how could I discard those letters, unread?
Ultimately, curiosity got the better of me. Looking inside, I found several neatly stacked bundles of blue airmail letters, tied with yellow ribbons, and a note saying, “Letters written from 1943 to 1946 between Harry and Helen.” I took this as permission to delve further.
There were 609 letters from each to the other — quite rare for both sides of a correspondence from that time to survive. I wasn’t surprised that my mother had kept those he sent to her, but I was amazed that my father had carried all of her letters with him in his kit bag, while he travelled around the British Isles during the war.
As I read through them, I discovered not just declarations of undying love, but also detailed descriptions of what was happening on both sides of the Atlantic.
If it had not been for the war, the two likely would never have encountered each other. It was in Ottawa where Helen and Harry met, dated and became engaged prior to his leaving for overseas.
Throughout the war, the RCAF’s five bands and a dance band played in approximately 3,000 concerts, dances, and parades as well as making recordings for the BBC. While there, Harry endured bombings in London, the overall scarcity of food, and the exhaustion of travelling by trains, buses, and army trucks with irregular schedules. But he and the other band members knew that their music was keeping up the morale of soldiers and civilians alike, especially during the dark early years of the war.
During their two and a half years apart, Harry and Helen kept their love alive through letters and packages: She sent over care boxes filled with cookies, fruitcakes, and candies, as well as homemade items such as woollen socks and scarves. And he sent her flowers and jewellery for her birthday, Valentine’s Day, and Christmas.
Of their love letters, Helen wrote, “We’ll bind them up and read them over about twenty years from now … It’s a nice thought.” I don’t think they ever did sit down together to re-read those letters — they were too busy living the lives they had dreamed about all those years before.
