This is a speech written for the Finnish Independence Day, by Jim Kurtti. Jim teaches Finnish at Hancock High School in Hancock, Michigan.Itsenaipäivä juhla 7.12.97
Antti Kurtti, Kuusamosta, Pitkän Liisan poika,
Ei syö muuta kuin viiliä ja voita
Twenty two years ago, on my third day of a being a student at Suomi College I had a conversation with one of the maintenance workers here on campus. When I introduced myself as Jim Kurtti, he responded, with a twinkle in hiseye, with those words, taken from a folk song from Northern Finland, which in English is:
Antti Kurtti, from Kuusamo, Liisa Pitkä was in his mother,
Never eats more than viiliä and butter.
I had never heard these lines before but when another introduction in the Copper Country produced this same verse, I decided that I must find out what this rhyme is all about. In doing so, I realized that many second generation Finns were familiar with this tune. The following year, Helen Kurtti Ind, my father's cousin gave, not only the first verse, but the entire Antti Kurtti song. Cousin Helen had been a freshman here at Suomi College in 1917, the year of Finnish independence.
The tune was written about a distant relative of my grandparents who, with a savvy for making money and an unwillingness to part with it, became quite a wealthy man. Once when an lay preacher, known as the Kalkimaan pappi, was sent away from Antti Kurtti's residence without a single markka for the poor, the preacher wrote this disparaging song regarding every unsavory exploit of Kurtin Antti which the local gossips could provide. The results produced 14 verses, disclosing everything from his stinginess to his dancing ability, which the pastor described as uglier than the rotting bark on a dead pine tree.
You might wonder why I am sharing with you such an usual story about a distant relative. I want to give you an example of my personal observations on the use of the Finnish language in America. In more than 15 years I have not heard a person recite these lyrics. Furthermore, I doubt that current students at Suomi College daily hear Finnish spoken by the cleaning ladies in the halls or by the cooks in the cafeteria, as I did when I was here in the mid 1970s. I remember well one of the cooks, Maria Ranta, whose melt-in-your-mouth bisketti got everyone out of bed on Sunday mornings. She spoke practically no English, but fortunately for her, everyone else in the kitchen had the ability to speak Finnish. Times have changed. Likewise, my college day experiences were quite unlike Cousin Helen Kurtti's, who attended this school when classes were conducted in the Finnish language, and perhaps, one could say at that time English was the foreign language.
When did these changes take place? The answer is everyday. The decline in the Finnish language has been so gradual and subtle that we may feel we have noticed it's demise too late.
The good news is, it is not too late. Here on this stage you have seen anarray of young people - of various ages and backgrounds, interested in Finnish, interested in Finland and their connection to it. Ladies and gentlemen, I declare to you, these young people represent the tip of the iceberg of Americans' interest in Finland. We all should feel a sense of responsibility to foster their interest.
Three years ago a Finnish class began in the Hancock High School and was offered via Distance Learning to three other area schools. Because of the interest of one individual, namely, Judy Raicha, former Hancock High School principal, who was honored that same year with the title of Michigan Principal of the Year, the study of the Finnish language was made possible in Copper Country high schools. Having polled her students on what they would like to see added to the curriculum, she discovered that Finnish was their most requested choice.
Serendipitously, I became the instructor. For three years at approximately ten minutes to eleven, I have left my full time job at the Houghton Co. Juvenile Court and spent what would have been my lunch hour, sharing what I know about the Finnish language and culture. Through the assistance of televisions, fax machines and computers I can reach students, not only in my Hancock classroom, but also in Houghton, Chassell and Painesdale. The Copper Country Intermediate School District is the first and only place in the United States a student can receive credit studying Finnish in high school.
Because of our distinction of being pioneers, we drew the attention of the movers and shakers in the Finnish-American community - namely the organizers of Project 34. Although the name may be deceiving, Project 34 is a Finnish-American organization, whose reason for existing is to address the preservation of Finnish culture among Finnish-Americans, with 34 representing the third and fourth generations.
Last March I was invited to attend their most recent conference, which was held in St. Paul, Minnesota, to tell them about our Finnish class, about distance learning, and whether or not our system could be duplicated in other Finnish-American communities. Feeling very much the Yooper in the big city, I said, "Ja, sure, youbetcha! You can do it!" Project 34 will meet again this coming March in Washington, DC, at the Finnish Embassy, to continue the discussion of preservation of Finnish culture in America. Project 34's aim is involvement - Involvement on a broad, national level, through organizations such as the Finlandia Foundation, Concordia College's language immersion village, called Salolampi and FinnFest, local involvement in programs such as this celebration, local meetings of the U.P. chapter of Finnish-American societies, Suomi Kerho, and the Knights and Ladies of the Kaleva, to name of few. And most importantly, individual involvement - which is the passing on of tradition, food ways, songs and lullabies, sanalaskuja, and an appreciation for all that is part of all our culture.
Sadly though, nothing does more to diminish a culture than to lose it's language. When this happens it's literature, folksongs and sayings are gone. A person's thinking is influenced by his language and a language is influenced by how a nation thinks. Let me give you an example of what can be lost. A few years ago, there was a celebration in the Finnish Lutheran Church in Ewen, honoring the 100th birthday of Aliina Nykänen, an immigrant woman, who after nearly 80 years of living in America, never learned English. The pastor called Mrs. Nykänen to the front of the church where the two of them discussed her first 100 years. Since both had a flare for humor, the church was soon ringing with laughter. One of the toiskieliset (that is - non Finnish speakers) attending asked the woman next to her, who was convulsed with laughter and had tears rolling down her cheeks, "What are they saying?" Her reply was, "I can't tell you. It wouldn't mean a thing in English."
Numerous times I have heard persons of my generation say, "Why didn't my grand-parents teach me Finnish", so one day I was quite surprised to hear the mother of one of these friends say, "We tried to teach the children Finnish but they wouldn't learn. We spoke Finnish and they answered in English". And of course, many of you present remember the years when children were forbidden to speak anything but English at school, even on the playground. They were told that to be American one must speak English, and nothing else. As children of immigrants, you were told to succeed by speaking good English, rather than be proud of the fact you were a fluent speaker of two languages, or perhaps three, if you're like my sons' baby-sitter, Margaret Mattila, who is also fluent in Fingliska - that marvelous mixture of Finnish grammar onto English and Swedish words! Not only were the immigrants considered second class citizens, but they were expected to stay that way. In the beginning of my talk I mentioned my relative, Helen Kurtti Ind, a gracious lady; well educated and cultured. Although born in Finland, she spoke English flawlessly and yet never considered abandoning her knowledge and love of the Finnish language. To sum up her feelings about her connection to her birthplace, she wrote:
Pohjolasta, meren takaa
löytyi kaunis synnyinmaa.
Se vanhempaimme kaivattu
ja rakkaudella muisteltu.
Nyt kuulen lännen kotimaassa
äänen mun rakkaitten Suomesta.
Kuin muiston siivillä kiitäen
siell' päivittäin käy sydämen'
As I told you, Cousin Helen attended Suomi College and also she attended the University of Michigan, graduating with a Master's Degree in psychology. Her father was an immigrant miner and farmer, living with his large family, in a mining company house in Trimountain. A noble, Christian man of good character. When a particular mine captain heard that Henry Kurtti's daughter was studying for her master's, he declared , "Any Finnlander that can send his daughter to college can't rent one of our houses" and the family was made to leave, relocating in Tapiola.
Fortunately, times have changed , and yet, some of that old mentality remains. Each year I have my students fill out a survey, asking them a variety of questions about why they are studying Finnish and what they knew about the language prior to beginning the class. Last year one of the students in a school, which shall remain nameless, wrote, "When I told my principal I wanted to take Finnish, he said, why study Finnish. It's a dead language and you'll never use it." She continued by writing, "Just try telling my four grandparents that!"
I can certainly attest that learning Finnish has numerous advantages. When I was a little boy I was fortunate to live in the same community as my grandparents. Saturday saunas, holidays and hay-making season found us at the Kurtti farmthree miles east of Ruse's Rossing. Ukki, in his thick brogue, would tell us to go to college and get an education, while Ämmi, whose English was more limited than Grandpa's, would say, "Stay here, I teets you Finnis. "Anxious to please them both, I did both. Although they had long passed away by the time I graduated from high school, I attended Suomi College and studied Finnish under Ritva Heikkil , the Helsinki Cyclone, who endeared us all. I applied for the Finnish Ministry of Education scholarship to study in Finland and one warm summer day in June 1977, I received a phone call from Dr. Puotinen, who gave me the exciting news that I had received the scholarship to study at the University of Helsinki that following fall. After several months of studying , I traveled to northern Finland, to Kuusamo, the birthplace of my father's parents.The relatives in Kuusamo knew of my arrival and invited me to be with them for the month long Christmas break. In addition to several hundred cousins, of various degrees, three great aunts were still alive. It was cold Christmas day 20 years ago, 40 below. As my relatives and I stood in the yard of Old Kurtinvaara, whose house was more than 250 years old already then, the only brief trace of sunlight we saw was some blue and purple-lighted clouds in the south, behind Ruka tunturi. Although a very popular ski hill today, this hill, or fell, called Ruka, was a place about which ghost stories were told when Grandfather stood on this ground as a boy.His sister, Hilima-täti pointed her arm to the lake at the bottom of the hill. A lake called Kurtinjärvi, and told me how my grandfather, Janne and his cousin, Eetu Paana rowed away in a boat, as a large gathering of family members stood on the shore and sang a farewell hymn. "What was that hymn?", I asked. But Hilima-t ti answered, "En minä muista. Olin vain viis vuotta vanha." ("I don't remember. I was only five years old. ") Just like Heikki in Pekka Karstu's short play we saw this afternoon, my grandfather had been drafted into the Russian army to fight in the Russo-Japanese War. His family was deeply distressed, because it was said that no one came back from that war.
So it was decided that he would leave for America. Fearing his arrest, he walked the width of Finland and into Sweden, setting sail from Stockholm . He worked in the mines in Calumet and when he had earned some money he sent his father a gold pocket watch.
On that Christmas day, in Kuusamo, on the ancient Kurtinvaara farm, Maria-täti brought me into her bedroom and there on the wall hung that gold pocket watch, in a place of honor. I had many wonderful experiences that year in Finland, but that special Christmas Day is among my most cherished - There among newly-found relatives, whose mannerisms and facial features reminded me of those who were back here in Michigan.
To me, the image of my grandfather rowing away, while his family mournfully sang on the shoreline was something a movie writer would concoct to bring tears to a lady's eyes - not something that happens in the lives of everyday people. But the amazing thing about this story is simply that it is far more ordinary than one would first think. When my grandfather left Finland, the people were in hopes of independence from Russia. There were many sad farewell scenes as young men and women departed Finland for various reasons. Many young Finnish miners sent their father's gold pocket watches.
Each generation has had it's set of challenges - the struggle for freedom, the struggle against bigotry and prejudice, and the struggle for economic independence. After 80 years of Finnish independence we, here in America, in 1997, face a new struggle - the struggle to maintain and renew your Finnish identity and language.
Kiitos!
