Roots, a Finnish Version Recently I came across an old travel diary that I had written during
my trip to Finland in the mid-70s. As I read it, memories came flooding
back, and I began to reflect on my trip from a present day, more mature
(I hope) perspective. My Aunt Helen had gotten in touch with her friends Helvi and Helga. She had arranged for me to stay with them in their Helsinki apartment. Before I left, my aunt told me their story. They had been prisoners in Nazi concentration camps during WWII, not because they were Jewish, but because they were Communists. Both had lost their spouses and their children in the concentration camps. But after the war, they found each other, married, and had a daughter – a real beauty whose face had recently been on a magazine cover, so I was told. Helvi had been a representative to the U.N. She had lived in New York City for several years, so she spoke English quite well. My first impression of Finland, still vivid in my mind, was of the pristine, snow-covered forests surrounding the Helsinki airport. A warm feeling came over me. I felt as though I were home at last! I wondered whether this land of a thousand lakes was somehow programmed in my genes. I was somewhat nervous about meeting my esteemed hosts, but when I met them at the airport, I quickly realized that they were the real salt-of-the-earth types. They were both working full time, so each morning they gave me a huge breakfast – cereal, eggs, sausages, potatoes, breads of all kinds, cheese, that slippery milk stuff, and of course, coffee. Then they set off to work, and I set off with a very full belly to do some sightseeing. I visited the museums, the underground church, Sibelius' monument, Stockmann's, Galen Kalela's home – all the usual tourist spots. However, I seemed to be the only tourist around at that time of year! Everyplace I went I tried to feel the connection to my heritage. Certainly the faces looked familiar. The Finnish reserved nature also seemed familiar. I loved Galen Kalela's home – it was Finnish design at its best – simple, warm, earthy, and beautiful. Helvi and Helga introduced me to some of their young friends. One night they took me to a student club, just across from Stockmann's. The smoke-filled club was crowded with political science students from the University of Helsinki. I felt a little out of my element. I was introduced as an American, but a "Communist American." I guess that was supposed to make me more acceptable. In truth, at the time I was probably more apolitical than anything else. I was drawn to the natural sciences because I liked definite answers to my questions. It seemed that the more I learned about politics, the more confused I became. I knew a lot about beans (I was the Bean Queen in our department), but I didn't know beans about politics! I remember trying to make conversation by asking a fellow sitting next to me what political party he belonged to. He replied, "I really can't explain it to you because all you have in America is right of right." So much for conversation. All of a sudden, everyone in the club stood up and sang a rousing rendition of the International. They sounded like a professional chorus -- all their voices blending together into one gave me goose bumps! On another night, we went out to a nightclub. Helvi tried to help me get the wrinkles out of the best pair of pants I had with me. We couldn't get the wrinkles out, but the pants would have to do. It was "ladies' night" which meant that the girls had to ask the men to dance. I felt too shy and played the part of the wallflower for most of the night. But then I spotted another American. Apparently he was a real celebrity in Finland, and all the girls were after him. He taught English on TV. As I danced with him, I grilled him with lots of questions about what it was like to live in Finland, until he excused himself. He had a long line of girls waiting for him. Later, I saw him on TV and couldn't stop laughing. Apparently he was supposed to teach Finnish with a British accent. He really needed to work on his accent! My fondest memories of Finland were of the times I spent with Helvi and Helga. One weekend we drove to their cottage in the country. We arrived in the late afternoon, so it was already getting dark, and it was very foggy. Helga drove the car across the lake, even though the ice had melted quite a bit. Helvi and I jumped out of the car and waded across a layer of water on top of the ice. We got very cold, wet feet, but we felt much safer. Their log cabin was built on granite rock, overlooking the lake on three sides. It was a picture perfect log cabin, decorated in the typical Finnish fashion. There were woven red-orange coverlets on the beds, and long rag rugs on the floor, mostly blue with touches of white, red, and yellow. A local carpenter had made the simple dining table and benches for 150 marks. Everything was in perfect order, of course. The wood was neatly piled in the fireplace, and all we had to do was light a match to it. All of a sudden Helvi announced, "Now we shall all go to sauna together. We can go in naked but Helga shall wear bathing pants." Helga replied, "What? Who is afraid of me?" So we all went in naked as the day we were born. Helga used discretion in letting us get our clothes off first and finding a safe place on the bench before he came in. At first I was very embarrassed, but soon it seemed perfectly natural. There seemed to be an unwritten sauna code whereby everyone keeps their eyes to themselves, looking straight ahead or downward, never straight at you. Helvi washed my back and gave me Vita to rub on my hair. Afterwards we ate sausages. Helvi and I went out to the "piiska," as she called it. I went in first, and was going to close the door, but she grabbed the door and said, "We can leave the door wide open. I always do, so that I can look at the nature." She said that she sometimes sits for hours and wonders at nature. I'll have to admit, it was nicer looking out "at the nature" than sitting in the dark! Each week we went to visit Helga's uncle so we could bring him "medicine" – brandy, that is. He was a very old man, with one foot in the grave. They had just moved him to "the new place." He complained, "They were in a hell of a hurry to move me to this new place. They lost my cap." He was completely bald, like Kekkonen, he said, and needed his hat to cover his head. "And I told them I want it back!" he emphasized. In truth, the "new place" was a hospital for chronic cases. But he still had a wonderful sense of humor. The first time I met him he said, "Ah, now I can have a new girlfriend." When I shook his hand, he commented on how cold my hands were and said, "Come here and I will make you warm." Helvi said that he was a very brave man; he understood that everyone must suffer when they come to the end of life. All of these events took place over 30 years ago. Helga's uncle, Helvi and Helga are all long gone. But when I reflect back on those dark winter days in Finland, I realize that in a way I did find my roots. I feel very privileged in having met these wonderful people, and experiencing the world in a decidedly Finnish manner. |