FinNALA Newsletter
March 2013, Volume 6, Number 1
Publication of the Finnish North American Literature Association
© March 1, 2013
~~
Renew Your
Membership for 2013
Announcements
~~
FinnFest USA 2013
June 19-23
FinNALA Presenters at FinnFest
This
summer, several FinNALA members will be presenting at FinnFest from June 19 to
23 in Houghton and Hancock, Michigan. FinNALA members who will read from their
published works include Lillian Lehto,
Lauri Anderson, Steve Lehto, Josef Aukee, Sheila Packa, Jane Piirto, Jerry
Wuori, Gary V. Anderson, Nancy Mattson, Scott Kaukonen, and Beth Virtanen.
The presentations include poetry and
prose readings, and writing workshops. It is an excellent opportunity to get to
meet your favorite Finnish-American writers and poets while sampling some of
the best of Finnish-American and Finnish cultures.
~~
FinNALA Meetings at
FinnFest 2013
Just
a reminder to members and friends of FinNALA that another gathering of the
Finns – FinnFest 2013 – will be taking place in Houghton/Hancock, Michigan on
June 19-23. Upwards of 5000-7000 people will be there, including FinNALA with a
booth in the tori, workshops and readings, a membership meeting, and lots of
fun fellowship. Further information can
be found at the FinnFest 2013 website.
Do consider joining us in this beautiful part of the country. Here is the link: http://finnfestusa2013.org/.
As part of FinnFest 2013 FinNALA will be
hosting two meetings. One will be a
meeting of the Board of Advisors, and the other will be a general membership
meeting. Since we are beginning to
compile a list of agenda items for both of those meetings, please feel free to
offer suggestions for things that should be gone into at either of these
meetings. They can be sent either to
blvirtanen at gmail dot com, or gkwuori at hotmail dot com.
~~
Authors – Sell Your Book(s) at FinnFest 2013!
For a modest $20.00
(U.S.) fee, FinNALA will:
1.
Display your book on its
table in the Tori for the duration of
FinnFest,
2.
Keep a small reserve
supply to replace sold books,
3.
Keep an accounting of
the books sold so that sales monies can be given to each
participating author,
participating author,
4.
Keep you from having to
pay the $300 fee to rent and staff your own sale table,
5.
Staff the FinNALA table
during all regular Tori hours of the
FinnFest.
We think this will be a great opportunity for our authors to gain
exposure and to make some money. If
you’re interested in participating please contact Beth Virtanen as soon as
possible at blvirtanen at gmail dot com.
~~
Last Chance to Feature Your Work, Product or Services
in Kippis! the FinnFest 2013 Issue
The Finnish North American Literature Association (FinNALA) is seeking advertisers interested in marketing their merchandise, publications, services, and more to a Finnish-North American literary audience and the community that supports them. We have advertising space available in Kippis! volume 6, Number 1, the FinnFest 2013 edition, which will be for sale at FinnFest 2013 in Houghton/Hancock, Michigan, and available in an online version on the FinNALA website at www.finnala.com. Ad rates are modest and support the publication and dissemination of literary work by a multicultural and multinational group of poets and writers.
One-eight page (business card) $30
One-fourth page $50
One-half page $80
One-page $150
Send your print-ready ad copy and contact information to Beth Virtanen, FinNALA President, at bethlvirtanen at yahoo dot com.
If you wish the Kippis!team to design your ad, please do email us (bethlvirtanen at yahoo dot com), and we can work together on layout and pricing.
~~
New World Finn Seeks Contributions
The
deadline for the next issue of New World
Finn is March 6th. We will be publishing on March 21.
Inquiries: Gerry Henkel, Editor gerryhenkel at fastermac dot net
~~
Terri Martin named FinNALA Newsletter
Editor-in-Chief
When
FinNALA President, Beth Virtanen, sent a query for persons interested in
helping with the FinNALA Newsletter,
Terri Martin expressed a willingness to get involved. Terri is pleased to
assume the post of Editor-in-Chief.
Terri has resided with her husband,
Wayne, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula for over twelve years. She finds
inspiration from the north woods for writing and embraces the unembellished
U.P. lifestyle. Her middle-grade children’s book, A Family Trait, was published in 1999. She has written humor for The Porcupine Press and several outdoor
articles for various publications, including Backpacker Magazine and
Michigan Out-of-Doors, and won second place in the third annual Kippis! writing contest.
As an employee of Finlandia University,
Terri often finds herself immersed in the Finnish-American culture of the
Keweenaw Copper Country. She enjoys coordinating Finlandia’s Sibelius Academy
Music Festival and a Finnish-themed Road Scholar (Elderhostel) program. Terri
completed a master’s degree in English from Northern Michigan University in
spring of 2011, several decades after earning a Bachelor’s degree in Liberal
Studies from Western Michigan University.
Terri’s short tenure for the FinNALA
newsletter has been a great experience and she looks forward to working on
future issues with the help of the editorial staff and, most importantly, the
FinNALA Newsletter contributors.
~~
Submissions Sought for Kippis!
Fifth Annual Kippis!
Contest is Open!
Submissions are being accepted for Kippis! 6:1
Published online and in
the FinnFest 2013 Edition of Kippis!
Submissions
are now being taken for the June 2013 issue of Kippis. Send us your very best
fiction, nonfiction, and poetry for our consideration. This is also a contest
edition, although you do not have
to enter the contest in order to have your work considered for publication.
If you do want your work entered in the
contest, a $20 entry fee for each piece you enter is required. Payment
instructions are below and on the FinNALA website. General submission
guidelines can be found below and at: http://www.finnala.com/Kippis_subs.html. Paper copies of this issue will be available in the Tori at the FinNALA booth.
Good
luck! We look forward to hearing from you.
Kippis! Regular Submission Guidelines
- Submission deadline: April 1, 2013
- Genres accepted: fiction, nonfiction, poetry
- Prose 3,000 word maximum
- Poetry 3 poem maximum, not to exceed 8 pages
- Electronic submission required. Submit to G.K. Wuori, Associate Editor, at gkwuori at hotmail dot com
Kippis! Writing Contest Submission
Guidelines:
- Regular Submission Guidelines apply
- Entry fee: $20. Pay by PayPal or mail your check (20 US dollars) made out to "FinNALA" to Beth Virtanen, President, FinNALA, PO Box 11, New Blaine, AR 72851.
- Prizes: First place $100, Second place $50; Third place $25
- 1st, 2nd, & 3rd place winners receive 5 paper copies of V. 6, No. 1 issue
- Previously published work not accepted
- Multiple submissions are allowed with entry fee for each submission
Finnish-America’s Copper
Country and
The Sibelius Academy
Music Festival
A Road Scholar
Participant plucks out a tune on the five-string kantele.
The Road Scholar (formerly Elderhostel) program “Finnish America’s Copper Country and The Sibelius Academy Music Festival” will take place in the Copper Country of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula September 24-28, 2013. It is administered by Road Scholar and hosted by Finlandia University of Hancock, Michigan.
Hidden in the scenic Copper Country of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is a flourishing Finnish-American community. Immerse yourself in the Finnish-American influence of the area through hands-on workshops, presentations and demonstrations, a field trip to an authentic Finnish homestead, a mineral museum, an excursion up the Keweenaw Peninsula, and the spectacular performances of musicians from the world-renowned Sibelius Music Academy of Helsinki, Finland.
Hidden in the scenic Copper Country of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula is a flourishing Finnish-American community. Immerse yourself in the Finnish-American influence of the area through hands-on workshops, presentations and demonstrations, a field trip to an authentic Finnish homestead, a mineral museum, an excursion up the Keweenaw Peninsula, and the spectacular performances of musicians from the world-renowned Sibelius Music Academy of Helsinki, Finland.
For more information visit the Road
Scholar web site www.roadscholar.com and enter
program # 20651RJH, or call Road Scholar at 1-800-454-5768.
~~
St. Urho’s Celebration
A
St. Urho’s Celebration is coming to Menahga, Minnesota, March 15 to 17, 2013!
Lots of fun activities will be included in the celebration sponsored by the Menahga
Civic & Commerce Association and other community organizations.
Final preparations are being made for a
Friday night crowning of the new king and queen. A comedy-singing duo of “Tina and Lena” will entertain
the crowd on Friday evening! Saturday will consist of a parade and other fun
activities. On Sunday, there will be a
Mojakka Cook-Off Contest with great prizes and a silent auction. All profits
from this event will go to the Menahga Area Historical Museum. For further information, go to www.menahga.com
Mojakka
By Priscilla Harvala
Mojakka,
what is it? People ask in a curious way,
and you laugh,
Knowing
that questioning look on their faces….it’s a familiar one.
So,
how do you explain mojakka without using a cookbook or math
The
simple truth is just to give them a bowlful….with a buttered bun!
Their
expression of perplexity will turn into a sigh of pure pleasure,
As
the first spoon full of mojakka passes over the tongue with leisure,
Their
taste buds will burst into amazing delight when trying to measure,
The
values of the meat or fish, varied vegetables, and spices we treasure.
Mojakka
is made in so many ways using chicken, ham, fish or beef,
Browning
meat well and adding onions to make a broth full of flavor,
Cover
with milk or water, simmer; toss in salt, pepper, spices or a bay leaf,
Then
add the vegetables - potatoes, carrots, whatever, and cook for an hour.
Every
pot full of mojakka comes complete with a personality of its own,
Depending
on the ingredients available and the disposition of the cook,
It
may have large chunks or small, milk or water, and maybe even a bone,
One
thing for sure, Betty Crocker didn’t have it in her cook book!
Mojakka
was fashioned a long time ago by the resourceful American Finn
Who
brought from Finland the ability to survive on practically nothin’!
When
times were tough, they took a little bit of this and a little bit of that,
And
with a bunch of sisu, created what’s called “mojakka,” without any fat!
The
broth was sometimes thick and sometimes thin, and would depend
On
what was in the pantry or how much money the family had to spend.
Generations
later, mojakka has survived the test of time, and take heart,
For
now it has become a St. Urho’s legend contest and a tasty work of art!
~~
Books
~~
Lush Situation
By K. A. Laity
The thriller will be released on March
28, 2013. She will present a workshop "How to Keep Writing with a Full
Time Job" at the Berkshire Festival of Women Writers on March 25, 2013 and
will talk about Writers & Social Media at the Albany (NY) Public Library,
Main Branch on April 10, 2013.
Laity’s satirical essay "How to
Succeed in Academia" will appear in So
It Goes: A Tribute to Kurt Vonnegut (Perpetual Motion Machine Publishing)
and her academic essay, "Won't Somebody Please Think of the
Children!" on Tideland will
appear in the collection The Cinema of
Terry Gilliam: It's a Mad World (Wall Flower/Columbia University Press).
~~
Heretic Hill
By Ernest Hekkanen
~~
Letters to Borges
By Stephen Kuusisto
Stephen Kuusisto's new book of poems, Letters to Borges, has just been
published by Copper Canyon Press. Booklist writes: Kuusisto’s
poems speak to Borges through evocative, otherworldly images: clouds inside
bone marrow, Paracelsus in the streets of New York peddling white flags with
blue crosses, the wet interior of a windowpane. Kuusisto’s affinity for Nordic
countries surfaces here in the form of Helsinki’s sheer blue sky, a topsy-turvy
Finnish waltz, wild grass occupied by orchestral crickets.
~~
Greetings from Canada
By Sirpa T. Kaukinen
Terveisiä Kanadasta
Finnish-Canadian
Poems
Kanadan-Suomalaisia
Runoja
Sirpa Kaukinen's short book of poetry, Greetings
from Canada - Terveisiä Kanadasta, can be ordered directly from the author for $10.00 at strek at
rogers dot com.
~~
Life is an Amazing Song
By John (Juha) Raikkonen
Life is an Amazing Song is a memoir about growing up in Finland during the Finnish-Russian war from 1939 to 1945 and beyond. Described by a reader as“a humorous and serious tale…this book left me wanting for more.” This poignant story describes the experiences of a young boy living at his grandparents’ farm in Oulu, North Finland during the war. A thrilling memoir, Life is an Amazing Song is steeped in the tradition of Angela’s Ashes, My Life as a Dog (Swedish book) with a hint of Tom Sawyer.
Books purchased on web site will be autographed by the author. www.LifesAmazingSong.com
ISBN: 1453735100 300 pages. Rated five stars in the National Press. Edited by: Mike Valentino Reviewed by: Jean Purcell, Siggy Buckley, Laila Sullivan, and others.
Creative Contributions
~~
Two poems by
Diane Dettmann
Day Break
Night’s
darkness breathes
Fire
into a new day
Of
luminous sun and
Morning
clouds of gray.
Lavender
wisps
And
rivers of blue
Pour
peace and joy
On
our day anew.
All
we need is right here
In
the break of a new day,
Share
the moments with others
Before
your time slips away.
Love Note
Our
hearts and lives
Entwined.
Time
floated
In
wisps
Of
celebration.
As
angels danced
Above
the horizon,
Minutes
melted
Into
hours,
Hours
into days,
Days
into years,
Until—
Translucent
angels
Took
you away.
Diane
Dettmann’s memoir, Twenty-Eight Snow
Angels: A Widow’s Story of Love, Loss and Renewal, is her story of how she
found meaning in life after the sudden death of her loving husband. She is also
the coauthor of Miriam Daughter of
Finnish Immigrants, a story of her Finnish grandparents raising seven
children in Embarrass, Minnesota in the 1920s.
Ms.
Dettmann is a contributing author for the Women’s Voices for Change website and
has presented her books at various venues including international conferences
in Finland and Canada. Information on website: http://www.outskirtspress.com/snowangels
Email
ddettmann at q dot com
~~
A Poem by Eero
Sorila
Ritva My First
Love
Ritva,
a queen of women from Tampere Finland, was my first love.
We
were nineteen; the miraculous match seemed to be from above.
After
eight months of dreamlike courtship, I had never held her hand.
It
happened on a summer evening, almost too much for me to stand.
Our
hands touched when from Mt Royal we descended on a day so fine.
As
if propelled by supernatural power I was immediately in cloud nine.
It
was the first time I touched my sweetheart’s tender and delicate hand,
Flirting
of any kind had been locked due to respect with an iron band.
Up
to that time a look into the eyes of Ritva had ignited my soul on fire.
We
were the happiest young people on earth, but all was soon to expire.
One
day a lethal intruder, a thief spelled with a big C entered her life.
A
queen of women, my first love left this earth as if cut off by knife.
After experiencing first love,
Eero Sorila traveled the world for forty years. His travel adventures are
published in Green Mattress under
the Stars. Available from Xlibris, telephone: 1-888-795-4274 or Amazon.com
ISBN 978-1-4500-6033-5
~~
Three Poems by
Charles Peltosalo
Cars Don’t Count
I
ignore humans in their cars,
I
ignore humans from my car.
I
dare you to try this: you’ll go cross-eyed from the prying cords.
Cars
don’t count.
I
don’t have relationships with cars.
I
deal with people as I cross their paths.
If
I have something to say, I’ll walk up to you;
You’re
welcome to do the same.
It’s
rude to stare either way.
The
amount of psychic energy this saves for real life is incalculable.
A
darting bluebird dances through a swallowtail kite’s shadow by a bamboo thicket
as you whistle
past.
past.
I
will not wave at your tinted screen, those safe Ray-bans, as you double the
speed down my peaceful
canopy road.
canopy road.
I
spent 35 years on a tennis court, not blinking as rubber projectiles flashed
past my ears at 100 mph.
What
are the chances you’ll snag my attention in your speeding metal?
All
hips and shoulders, I’ll note the direction of your front axle;
Maybe
to line up my shot on your rear axle.
RSVPG-On
my planet, I’d be your speedbump.
My
nightvision has flipped on during the day:
At
night one looks down to the right and away to neutralize the blinding glare of
headlights.
During
the day, I now look either left or right and farther away.
The S(c)ent
Passing
through a village rare in
Dreams
of time gone by,
I
wander by a spot most fair,
Let
beauty catch my eye.
Flowers
lush, scented deep,
Moss
and grass, each throws of velvet,
Then:
Great
trees of ghostly green are rising all around me;
I
know I’ve been that place before,
Same
sage old spirits tell me,
Maybe
couldn’t leave, some others say, then
Show
me an oasis lush sprung from barren fields surrounding.
Magic
bloom on magic bloom,
Exotic
smells abounding,
But
I’m transfixed by a forest rose, thicket deep in time.
I
circle it in some mind like a redtail loosed its’ keeper’s glove,
Radiate
and spin wingtips’ incline,
Ride
its’ perfumed thermal while my sleeper’s body rests,
Before
my spirit reperches in my waking mind, its’ waking nest.
All
past love in my small world once centered in a heartbeat there,
Rode
that misty beauty rising from its’ fathomed joy,
Now
a memory burnt by stars, a wish I’d never been,
A
trail regrown by time.
The
best I’ve kept is a dreamer’s stop, odd nights to and fro.
More
than once I wander back by love’s first home,
Though
I know she’s flown for good.
Still
her scent is in the air,
The
rose grows as it should.
Valentines
Though
we are now miles apart by some kind reprieve or wise design,
You’re
still the closest in my heart,
The
sweetest, deepest valentine.
Decades
melding souls and minds,
Strange
minuets forever played by some violin’s faint, fickle lines
Locked
us in this grand life’s dance,
Submerged
us in its’ trying times-
I’m
bound your bonded valentine.
Though wounds and words I’d vain decline in
Pierced
and fevered states of mind,
Death would never edge one inch aside
Our
seasons’ long and deep entwine.
Some
Mystery Hand guides the living lines;
Each
sharp curve, descent or hopeful climb:
A
tragic loss, a sainted find-
A
romance deeper than one another’s design did make us truly valentines.
Charles Peltosalo, 1455 Bees Creek
Rd., Ridgeland, SC 29936
Email cgpelt at embarqmail dot com,
tel:(843)-726-6253
~~
A Poem by Anita
Erola
The Letter
Dear
Lake Oksjärvi
Do
you still remember me?
I
will always remember you.
Each
summer’s first glimpse
From
a footpath through the pines
Jewel-like
sparkles beckoned.
Diamonds
in the sunlight
A
dance to summer’s midnight light
Brought
a child’s smile delight.
The granite slope to water’s edge
Pressed
smooth by ice age past
Familiar
under my bare feet.
The
water’s inviting waves
Soothing
the rocks and shore
My
childhood playground.
At
elders’ words of caution
I
watched each step
And
learned things of nature.
Swimming,
pretend games, picking blueberries
Raindrops
on the roof
It
was all there.
A
small cottage lakeside
Filled
with grandma and comfort
My
place of belonging.
I
recently saw your picture
Is
that really you?
You
appear tired and old and so untended.
I
wish I could be there
To
care for you
Both
of us are much older now.
~~
Two
Poems by Jane Piirto
“I
vowed to go about like a cuckoo /to call out on knolls”—Runo 22, Kalevala
CEDAR WAXWINGS
On
the office landing
coming
up the stairs
March
5, I saw
through
the tinted window
on
the berry tree
a
flock of migrating
cedar
waxwings having lunch.
Inches
from me
they
took
wrinkled
red berries into
—Ah!
Their curved beaks—
swallowed
them whole
with
gulps.
The
wind roughed
their
perfect gray
short
feathered wings,
tossed
their tufts
of
crowns.
They
tipped
thin
branches,
swayed
to fill
their
stomachs.
Then
they gathered
on
the maple tree,
flew
off together
heading
north to nest
in
pine forests
where
eyes will not violate
nor
poems record
their
name—
Hope
for Spring.
“Be that as it may / I’ve skied a
trail for singers” Runo 50, Kalevala
CODA
Skiing
in a dark forest
snow
blowing
wind
smarting
no
snakes here,
I
find Eero.
He
is standing
beneath
the shed light
leaning
on the wall.
His
hair rises in blond curls.
on
cello
like
Apocalyptica.
Skiing
in a dark forest,
eerie
winds
struggling
against snows
no
snakes here
in
the north when
the
darkness comes at three.
~~
Boy from Karelia
By Kaarina
Brooks
(Excerpt from
Chapter 1)
The Beginning of
the End
“Don’t get those wood chips all over the
floor, Juha!” Mom keeps nagging at me, though she can see I’m not making a
mess. Most of the chips fall on the sheet metal by the stove. I like sitting
here, whittling by the fire when it’s chilly and wet outside. Like today.
Though it’s only four o’clock, the sun has almost set.
There’s not much to do on a rainy
Sunday. I can’t go and play with my friend, Tuomo. And I can’t climb up on our
roof and see the golden, onion-shaped domes of the Vellamo Convent on a faraway
island in Lake Ladoga.
I’ve done my homework. I even
helped Liisa with hers. She’s seven and just started grade one, but I'm in
grade three. I'm good in school, because I work
hard. I don’t want to stand there and look dumb when the teacher asks me a
question.
So here I am, whittling and
trying to ignore Mom, when I hear heavy stomping and wheezing out in the porch.
I know that’s old Matias dropping by, because he always makes that noise. He’s
over eighty, and people say he spends all his days studying the Bible. He can
say the whole thing by heart, like me and the times tables.
“Come on in, Matias,” Dad says
and gets out of his rocking chair. He knows Matias likes to sit in the rocker,
so he moves over to the long wooden bench by the table. Dad lights his pipe and
Mom puts the pot-bellied copper coffee pot on the stove.
Matias places his worn fur hat on
his knee and starts the rocker with a kick. "Listen here, Pekka,” he says.
"I was readin' in the Bible that the Devil is gonna let loose all his
powers in these here parts, and we’ll have to leave our lands. And that time is
almost nigh.”
“Well, Matias, I think you’re
just talking through your hat,” Dad says with a grin. He likes to tease the old
man. “You know the Bible isn’t always right.”
But Matias doesn’t get mad. “You
don’t have to believe me, Pekka, but when it all comes to pass, remember me
sayin' so.”
Just
then the door opens and in comes my uncle Otto. He’s the police chief in our
parish of Impilahti, and lives in a village closer to the Russian border.
“So, what’s new?” he asks and sits on a
bench by the wall. Mom puts another coffee cup and saucer on the table.
“Well,
Otto,” Dad says with a grin. “Matias here was telling us that Old Nick's
going to let loose all his powers, and destroy everything around here.”
To my surprise, Uncle Otto doesn’t
laugh. “You know,” he says with a couple of nods. “They’ve started putting up
tank barricades over there in Kitelä. Digging up huge rocks and rolling them
onto the fields.”
Boy from Karelia is a middle-grade historical fiction novel (60,500
words) by Kaarina Brooks. It is based on
the boyhood memories (1939-1945) of the late Vaino Johannes Leskinen of
Vancouver, BC. The book is still in the submission phase and thus not yet
available. Brooks dot kaarina at gmail dot com
~~
My Crafty Finnish Mummu
By Hazel Lauttamus Birt
My Finnish Gramma was a crafter.
Mummu did all kinds of crafts like weaving and spinning wool but her favourite
was knitting. I mean she knit all the time. She would go walking and knitting
to the neighbouring farm looking at the clouds, checking the wild flowers,
listening to the birds. One day this habit nearly brought her to harm. She came
walking and knitting right through the open kitchen door. We heard a big ‘thump’
then Mummu’s angry voice: “Who left the cellar trap door open again?” Oh, my
God, we all rushed to look down. There she was standing at the bottom of the
shallow dug out with her knitting in her hands.
She had everyone knitting. When
Neighbor women came over for coffee Mummu would say, “You might as well be
knitting as just sitting there,” and she would pass around some knitting. She
taught all us children to knit. I remember being this little kid missing all my
first teeth and sitting in my little rocker beside Mummu knitting away. The
family would smile and say, “There’s our two Mummus knitting.” I’d be chatting
to her and she didn’t answer. I looked up and she seemed to be sleeping but she
still knitted away.
I turned out to be an art teacher
and craftsperson too. Mummu once helped me make an Easter banner for a church
in the Arctic. It was to be blue Inuit Slavic lettering on white, six feet
wide, saying Hallelujah, Christ is risen.
So we cut and we pasted. I was proud to show it to Moses, my Inuit friend, who
said, “Hazel, it doesn’t say Hallelujah,
Christ is risen. You have the last symbol upside down. It says Hallelujah Christ is dead.” Like oops -
we had to fix it before we mailed it up to the Arctic.
When my children were small, we
arrived at the farm one cold day and I asked Mummu if she had any spare
mitts. Mummu got up and said “tullka lapset (come children)”. She
showed us a drawer full of mitts—at least fifty pairs—all with “idiot Strings”
attached so they wouldn’t be lost.
I taught all my family to knit and
do crafts. My granddaughter Anna took to finger knitting, making long colourful
ropes. She was like Mummu; she knit all the time. She and I would sit knitting
side by side and we’d plan what she could do with all her long colourful ropes.
“I know!” she’d say. “For my sister Kirsten’s birthday, let’s decorate the
house with streamers! Hang them from the ceiling! And Kissa our cat needs a new
collar. And I know, I won’t get lost in the park anymore. I’ll take my finger
knitting and leave a long trail of it so I can find my way back.”
I have no doubt that crafting in my
family will continue. Especially Anna will grow up to teach her children and
grand children to be crafty like our Finnish Mummu.
Hazel Lauttamus Birt grew up on her
grandfather's homestead in New Finland, Saskatchewan. She has written and
illustrated a number of books based on her Finnish Heritage.
~~
Two Poems by K. Alma
Peterson
Revision
Nothing precise about the flight
egrets make, coming into view right
or left, dangling legs, deciding
at the last moment where to land.
Silent as their snowy show
leaves the estuary, an erasure
of a page trying to capture perfectly
the time-lapse details --- denser
grass, sunrise earlier by a minute,
my eyes adjusting to new familiars.
Fledgling
Already fearful of irrelevance,
the new bird, possessing every feather,
stands firmly on the thick book of days
that will define its significance
as news or newsprint fit only to shred
and fill the coop. Flying by
is no accomplishment, easier
so many say, older now than family
pianos. Trembling between low
and lower notes plucks time
like it was meant to beam. Blown
down soft to the lips last to speak
coldly of the wasted year.
~~
Two Poems by Arlene Sundquist Empie
From Love Is A Place: A collection of poetry
Spring Breaks
Witness the drama of a frozen sea
stark whiteness reaches to the horizon
like a girl in a white gown arising
stretching after a long sleep
breaking the silence of winter
angular patterns of cracking ice
wild as the imagination.
Spring’s Song
Spring’s
song opens the mind to possibilities
swallows
return to rebuild their nest in a flurry of activity
tractors
ply the fields turning over fallow soil
preparing
for new life to come forth.
Released
from the long winter rainshadow, my mind jazz
dances
to places charted on my journey, places yet to know,
signposts
to follow. The fork in the path beckons like the rock
on
the beach with the perfect circle calls to be picked up.
Places
summon in my dreams, places co-created in the divine plan await chance and
synchronicity. Love, the highest energy of all,
surrounds
me like swirling water in a whirlpool,
spilling
over me like a waterfall, yet I cannot quench my thirst.
Sun
thoughts wander amidst stones and pine needles,
silken
sea grass and thorny blackberry vines, sensing
the
pull of the moon, the incoming and outgoing tides
ever
seeking —one more undiscovered place of the heart.
Email: Sunnie1 at me dot com
~~
Brasilia: Capital Nonpareil!
By Lisbeth Holt
Who
hasn’t envisioned Brazil as the counterweight to conformity and
convention? There is an undeniable
seductiveness at the very mention of this land, as vast in landmass as the
continental United States! And here in
its mysterious interior, travelers discover a realm of astonishing beauty in
the capital nonpareil, Brasilia! For
the history buff, the architecture aficionado, this World Heritage site is a
perfect fit!
Brasilia evolved from a dream of sheer
bravado, that of building a city unlike any other on earth here in the
wilderness, empty of all human life. The
idea of a centrally-located capital which would open up the interior to
economic prosperity and protect it from coastal invasion had been considered
for over a century by politicians and clergy alike. In fact, the Italian bishop Dom Bosco had a
sublime vision in 1883 of a “land of milk and honey” to rise between the 15th
and 20th parallels in the New World.
Fertile ideas of such a fabulous city began to germinate within the
national consciousness. Presidential
candidate Juscelino Kubitschek promised to fulfill this dream if he won. He became president, and the rest is
history. Brasilia was inaugurated as the
new capital on April 21, 1960, some 700 miles northwest of Rio in the
geographical center of this immense country.
As
you step foot in Brasilia, it’s unlike anything you’d imagined. It’s more stunning, more dramatic, more
out-of-this-world! You ask yourself, is
this city of visionaries real or a mirage?
The iconic architecture unabashedly rises to meet the bluest and widest
of skies in the world. Most of these
monumental buildings were designed by that irrepressible genius of twentieth
century architecture, Oscar Niemeyer (1907 – 2012).
The famous dragonfly design of the city,
the brainchild of the ingenious urban planner Lucio Costa, set the stage for
breath-taking architecture and art.
Oscar Niemeyer’s Metropolitan Cathedral had no precedent in its bold
design of sixteen curving panels of white concrete like a colossal flower of
life. Gorgeous stained glass panels
designed by Marianne Peretti flood the interior with celestial light and
Alfredo Ceschiatti’s three angels of the Annunciation hover seemingly in
adoration over the altar.
Here you find the brilliantly conceived
convex-concave National Congress and the grand Plaza of the Three Powers. The
25-foot sculpture by Bruno Georgi, the Pioneers/Warriors (“Os Candangos”),
commemorates the heroic spirit of those tens of thousands of workers who built
this singular city in forty-one months!
The glass-enclosed Itamaraty Palace (the
Ministry of Foreign Affairs), the very epitome of grace, seems to be floating
in a pool with water gardens designed by Roberto Burle Marx and the enigmatic
“Meteor” sculpture by Bruno Georgi.
Within, exquisite sculptures, paintings and gardens designed by the
luminaries of the arts enchant the eye at every turn. The second floor boasts regal dining rooms
representing the three capitals: Salvador (until 1763), Rio de Janeiro (until
1960) and now Brasilia, the most architecturally amazing city in the world!
BRASILIA !
By Lisbeth Holt
Born
from a near impossible dream,
Brasilia! Provocative, evocative,
This
miraculous flower of destiny,
Freeing
the creative spirits of fearless artists,
Capturing
the imagination of sweat-soaked workers
Who
arrived to build the city of cities
In
the middle of nowhere. Nowhere? Not a chance!
Envisioned
in 1883 by saint Dom Bosco in Italy,
The
dawn of a new civilization near the 15th parallel
In
the Americas…Is that nowhere?
In
the state of Goias where a massive layer of crystal
Yes! Crystal covers the earth with its luminosity;
Goias,
on the same parallel as western-lying Machu Picchu!
On
a gorgeous broad, oh so wide and sweeping, cerrado;
The
savannah of exotics, flora, fauna, canyons, waterfalls,
The
highlands welcoming the visionaries!
Kubitschek,
the president! Costa of the winged city
plan!
Niemeyer, the architect: soaring curves to meet the sky!
Burle
Marx: brilliant gardens delight the eye!
Each
destined to create beauty to live forever:
Ceschiatti, Peretti, Di Cavalcanti, Bulcao, Georgi;
Each
glorifying, magnifying, ever defying the naysayers
Who
believed this dream an impossibility.
Fifty
years have passed since inauguration day.
This
city, this incomprehensibly magnificent city,
Brasilia,
stands, welcoming the world to come and see
To
partake of the dream, to celebrate humanity’s possibilities;
The
new dawn of civilization, indeed, here!
In
Brasilia!
~~
Two Poems by
Michael L. King
Lao Lao
I
only met my mother’s mother once;
she
came to visit us in Heilongjiang
when
I was very young. My dad said she
could
stay with us—and do some work—because
that
way my mom would never leave to care
for
her when she got old. Our village got
too
cold for her in winter, though, so she
went
back to Shandong. Well, her sons that
lived
there
never helped her when she got so sick
she
had to stay in bed. She couldn’t walk
or
cook or even go to toilet. Mom
went
there and cried when she saw Lao Lao’s bed
so
nasty. Lao Laos hair was all flat,
stuck
together. Mom stayed there with her three weeks.
While Mom was gone my Dad got mad because
While Mom was gone my Dad got mad because
he
had to care for four kids, cook, and clean
the
house all by himself. When Mom got back
he
yelled and swore at her so loud the whole
countryside
heard. About two days before
my mom came home we heard that Lao Lao died.
my mom came home we heard that Lao Lao died.
Vanishing
Point Wrap
Equations,
figures, conflicts, rule this time
and
space. To find relief, I ride my bike
on
trails that wind through woods where light and dark
shadows
play on boulders, rotting logs, and
ferns. I stop by fields to watch as kestrels
hover
over hay and dive-bomb down on
mice
while woodchucks dig and watch from burrows.
Deer
like swamps; they lift their tails and look, and
stomp
their hoofs and snort, then bolt for cover
under
evergreens. I read the scenes and
see
signs in great diverse designs that greet
my
senses. Thoughts and visions pedal far
to
ride where trails that run parallel meet
and
wrap together, past the world of math.
A Poem by
Kirsten Dierking
Everything
around
the lake
assents
to silence.
All
birds
agreed
to hush.
All
feathers, all fur,
felted
thick
with
fading light.
The
boat comes
to
a gentle rest
on
the blue cusp
of
still water.
Take
it with you,
this
interlude,
the
sweet middle eye
of
the storm.
~~
Yooper Guide to Fine Dining
By Terri Martin
Yooper
cuisine has two claims to fame: Friday Fish Fry and the Pasty (rhymes with
nasty). It used to be that Catholics couldn’t eat meat on Friday, so everyone ate fish or tomato soup or
macaroni and cheese, even if they were Lutheran. However, some time in the last
millennium, the Vatican rescinded the no-meat-on-Friday mandate. However, up
here in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, restaurateurs did not get the memo, so they
continue to offer up a gut bomb called the Friday Night Fish Fry—a practice
that really revs up during Lent. I’m pretty sure the sacrifice of meat on
Friday was not meant to be substituted with something that is deep fried and
served with tartar sauce, fries, slaw, and a couple of beers. Still, it’s a
good tradition, eh?
The pasty started back in the days
when there was no cafeteria or vending machines down in the copper mines.
Immigrant miners worked long hours under difficult conditions and needed
something that would stick to their ribs. The Cornish people invented a dandy
little potpie that involved a lard-based crust, meat, veggies and the much-misunderstood
rutabaga. More recently, ketchup became the condiment of choice for enhancing
the pasty. (Note: there are no Cornish hens harmed in the making of a pasty.)
So anyway, the miners carried their pasty pie down into the cold, damp bowels
of the mineshaft to enjoy during their dinner breaks. The famed U.P. pasty
endures to this day and is served up with ketchup and a side of slaw.
Email Terri4045 at gmail dot com
FinNALA
Newsletter Editorial
Team:
Terri Martin,
Editor-in-Chief
Sirpa
Kaukinen, Assistant Editor
Heather Dunne,
Blog Specialist
Beth Virtanen,
Publisher
