Blog Archives
The Wonder And Horror Of It All
Letters is a family history built around letters, postcards, memoir fragments, and voices that span more than a century. Why was this an important book for you to write?
My father’s World War II letter was the reason I wrote my book, a ten-year journey playing with literary ideas before determining how best to share his letter. I attempted one format, bogged down, and turned to writing my poetry book, Our Lives in Verse, Everyday Poetry, published by WestBow Press in 2022. Once that was completed, I turned again to my father’s letter, and the creative twelve-month structure for its presentation came together. Dad’s revelatory experiences driving a tank across Europe and the liberation of Dachau, as he describes the wonder and horror of it all, belong to the world.
How did you decide which documents to include and which private materials to leave out?
I cherish both the Catherine Marshall letter and the postcard from Elisabeth Elliot, spiritually important because of their expressions of faith and inspirational encouragement. The poignant Susan B. Anthony letter was a thrill to discover ten years ago when seeking more information about Annie Pillsbury Young. It is a valuable piece of American, suffragette history, and my connection to her was astonishing.
The private materials, of which there is much more, were chosen because of their humanity and relatability, each with an “Aha” sentence or two that especially resonates. Finding the letter Arie wrote to his parents after Sandy died was a major discovery during the writing process, and my granddaughter’s amazing poem was written toward the end. A note about her poem: Divya Greenleaf’s poem “The Final Duet For Ill-Fated Lovers” (which she tweaked some from the original) won First Prize in the Rhyming Poetry category for the Broward County Literary Fair, 2026! Mindful of not over-burdening the reader with my story, I did remove 6,000 words, including several letters, in the final edit.
Grief appears throughout the book, but so does gratitude. Did you see the project as an act of mourning, thanksgiving, or both?
Writing Letters: Our American Story was an act of thanksgiving and celebration. It was a remarkable journey of discovery and insight that also brought tears of gratitude and sorrow from contemplating the loss of loved ones and the inevitable challenges from life. Writing this book was an amazing experience that still brings tears. It is an honor to have written Letters and is also very humbling, with my deep genealogical connections to American history only learned in the past five years. As exciting as these discoveries have been, however, I’m most humbled and awed by the everyday strength, faith, and courage demonstrated by my more recent ancestry and family. They inspire me the most.
If this book could leave readers with one emotional truth about memory, family, and faith, what would you want that truth to be?
It is hard to choose “one emotional truth.” In the end, I would say cherish your heritage, because your very life holds the wonderment of the past, the renowned or the ordinary, the good or the bad. Our genetics are not an accident. Letters is about the blessing of life itself. We wouldn’t be here without our ancestors. Additionally, my book is a tremendous demonstration of our connectedness as Americans. We are deeply connected through our common history, through our racial makeup, through faith and the hopes, dreams and accomplishments we share. Our family trees reveal a remarkable union of experience and life lived. All to God’s Glory!
Author Links: GoodReads | X | Facebook | Website
In Letters: Our American Story, Ann Brubaker Greenleaf Wirtz invites readers into a deeply personal yet profoundly universal journey through American history. Blending memoir, historical narrative, and poetic reflection, this unique work weaves together the voices of ancestors, iconic figures, and the author’s own insights—all rooted in the enduring tradition of handwritten letters.
From the Continental Congress (1774–1781) to the dusty plains of Kansas, with farms, universities, and church pews prominent in her tale, Wirtz captures the heartbeat of generations who shaped a nation and a family through courage, conviction, and connection. Featuring a World War II letter and correspondence from remarkable women—including a direct link to suffragist Susan B. Anthony—this book illuminates the story of America and our connection to each other.
Throughout, Wirtz underscores a timeless truth: words matter. Whether a letter is penned in grief, joyfulness, or quiet prayer, these writings carry wisdom and insight for today.
Commemorating America’s 250th Anniversary
A story of heritage. A tribute to people. A celebration of faith.
Letters: Our American Story
Letters: Our American Story is a tender, faith-soaked family history built around letters, postcards, memoir fragments, and remembered voices that stretch across more than a century. Ann Brubaker Greenleaf Wirtz uses private correspondence to braid together genealogy, American history, Christian conviction, and intimate memory, moving from Susan B. Anthony’s 1903 suffrage letter to wartime testimony, Peace Corps recollections from Brazil, Greenleaf family letters, Elisabeth Elliot’s postcard, and a granddaughter’s Christmas poem. What could have been merely an archive becomes something warmer and more searching: a meditation on how ordinary lives brush against national history, and how written words can keep love alive long after the moment that produced them has passed.
I was most moved by the book’s insistence that history doesn’t only belong to monuments, presidents, and battlefield dates. It lives in a father writing to his son about purpose, in Arie trying to understand grief after Sandy’s death, in Mary Vandivert’s vision for women’s learning, and in the quiet astonishment of discovering how one family thread touches Susan B. Anthony, Benjamin Franklin, the Space Race, World War II, and the Kennedy years. The writing has a devotional cadence, sometimes almost prayerful, and at its best, it feels like sitting beside someone who has opened an old cedar chest and is lifting out each letter with reverence. There is a lot of genealogical detail, especially when the lineages multiply. That density is part of the book’s character. It reflects the author’s awe before connection itself, the almost dizzying sense that every life is a convergence of accidents, choices, inheritances, and grace.
Susan B. Anthony’s letter carries political hope sharpened by age and disappointment. Kenneth Brubaker’s World War II account stands near horror without losing decency. Gail Crosson’s Peace Corps memory in Brazil has a startling humility to it, especially in its admission that goodwill sometimes arrived before skill. Elisabeth Elliot’s postcard, with its plea to be faithful when nobody’s looking, felt like one of the book’s spiritual keystones. I appreciated the author’s openness about faith, even when the theological framing is so central that readers outside that tradition may feel more like guests than natives. For me, that sincerity gave the book its emotional weight.
Letters: Our American Story was less a conventional narrative than a family chapel built from paper, memory, and gratitude. Its strongest passages are those where personal loss and national history touch hands, where the grand sweep of America is brought down to ink, a mailbox, a kitchen table, a folded page saved for decades. I’d recommend it especially to readers who love genealogy, Christian memoir, women’s history, family archives, epistolary writing, and reflective Americana. It’s a good book for anyone who has ever kept an old letter because throwing it away felt like losing a voice.
Pages: 247 | ASIN : B0G35SLGBC
