(Posted September 25, 2009)
That’s Finnish for “thanks”. What do I mean? Here’s the story.
After work, I head north on Highway 53 to do a book signing and a lecture. Two nice ladies greet me with coffee and cookies at Books on Chestnut in Virginia, Minnesota. I’m in town promoting my historical novel, Suomalaiset: People of the Marsh, a book that exists purely by happenstance. A few folks stop by and buy books. At six, I make my way towards Kaleva Hall where I’m scheduled to talk about the book.
Back when Finnish immigrants were unappreciated by most Americans (unappreciated except for their strong wills, stronger backs and undaunted work ethic) Finns weren’t generally welcome in existing fraternal or service organizations. Of course, many of the immigrants spoke only Finnish, a difficult language, one linked only to Estonian and (more remotely) Hungarian etymologically, which made them poor candidates for assimilation. Shut out from the Masons and their ilk (and being resourceful as all get out) the Finns created the Knights and Ladies of Kaleva to promote the Finnish language, culture and (originally) temperance. Sadly, like most fraternal organizations, the men and women of Kaleva are no longer engaged in a growth industry. Folks today are too busy, too self-centered for such things. But, fueled by sisu (fortitude), the Knights and the Ladies of Kaleva persist in small places like Virginia, Minnesota.
Virginia’s Kaleva Hall is an impressive building. With its hipped metallic roof and freshly painted colonnades, Kaleva Hall is as distinctive as the St. Louis County courthouse or Virginia city hall. Inside, the building has been carefully restored to its former glory.
Diane Langlee and her husband greet me,feed me, and then usher me up the steep stairway into the meeting hall. A refurbished tin ceiling soars several dozen feet above a freshly polished wood floor. This generosity of space gives the room an aspect of being something much larger, much more important, than a fraternal gathering place for an ethnic minority. But then, what could be more important than the preservation of a way of life, a language and a culture?
I am nervous. There have been many times over the course of my writing and publishing career when my modest expectations at such events have been crushed by disinterest. Not so on this night. The hall fills with folks of all ages. Diane introduces me. I read a couple of passages from the book. The crowd seems intent and interested. I explain my strange compulsion for writing and self-publishing. I take questions. We engage in sincere and thoughtful dialogue. It is one of the best nights of my writerly existence.
Kiitos, Diane and all my uusi ystavat.
(Sorry, this program has no umlauts!)
Mark
