The Minnesota Farm Woman

My father’s parents were the children of immigrants. Neither spoke with an accent, although they probably grew up in households where their ancestral tongues were used more often than not. Dad’s parents liked modern ways, and in fact, he told me that the old languages weren’t allowed to be spoken around their dinner table. They were proud to be American citizens, and felt that English should be used at all times. I am sorry for their decision, because Dad never learned Finnish or Norwegian, and therefore, could not teach his own children the language of their ancestors. He said an occasional Finnish swear word when things weren’t going well, but that’s about it. Little did he know that all the kids in our strongly Scandinavian town knew how to swear in Finn, so he wasn’t getting anything over on us. Among his belongings was a letter from Finland written in 1946 to his isoaiti , or grandmother. Her name was Elizabeth, and she died before I was born, but for years I thought her name was Aiti, because that’s what my dad and his brothers called her, but aiti actually means mother. I was lucky enough to find someone who can still read Finn, and although the dialect was a little different and the writing was faded, I was able to have most of it translated. Things were hard for the European people during the war years. Finland had been at war with Russia, but the relations between the two countries were improving. Some Finns were Communists, and some were not. Strangly enough, it was the same on the Iron Range in northern Minnesota, where my family lived. Nothing was ever said about their political beliefs, so I cannot say for certain that they were not Communists, but I doubt they were. Isoaiti had mailed a package to her relatives and they were sending “heartfelt thanks” for the gift of trousers and other items. Specfically mentioned was coffee, which was a very scarce commodity during those years. What a treat that must have been! Her wish for the relatives in America was “strength and health and happiness”. Our family was not wealthy, and I’m sure the cost of even a simple gift like that made things harder, but not nearly as hard as those with the memories of war right at their doorstep. The world is a crazy place these days, too. We don’t know for certain that our own doorsteps are safe from harm. Times have changed, but maybe not so much. My own isoaiti was a modern woman, her aiti was a Farm Woman, and I am a combination of the two, perhaps with a little bit of the writing gene and propensity for swearing in Finnish (or any other language, for that matter) from my isa , or father. I must have a little bit of that long-ago relative thrown in, too, because I dearly love coffee and I wish for all of you to have strength and health and happiness for the new year.