We’re living in a time of reality shows. People spend hours envying the lives of the rich and famous – whether it’s the “The Real Housewives of Dubai” or the “Keeping Up With the Kardashians”. In the “Bachelor” or “Bachelorette” men and women seek love by participating in awkward group dates, eliminating competition during rose ceremonies, and in a period of a few short weeks, hoping to receive a proposal of marriage. People struggle on “Survivor” or “Naked and Afraid” – to win $1,000,000 or just $5,000 – but more than anything just to be declared the winner on national television. So important is the celebrity in the life of Americans, that they elected a celebrity president with no experience in government. As a society we have often become so engaged in the lives of others, that we forget about the stories in our own families.
I grew up loving to read biographies of people’s lives. It was a way of entering a different world – learning about how other people lived. I ignored the world of fantasy and science fiction for the lives of presidents and inventors. I appreciated the struggles of explorers and empathized with the stories of slaves and segregation. Reading introduced me to different worlds – different periods of time. Books provided reality shows for me. Perhaps that is why my doctoral research focused on a teacher who became an influencer without social media and television.
The study of my ancestry became important to me. And so, I wrote the story of “The Gentle Giant”. He is not a fictional giant. He is family. As a young girl on my great grandparents’ farm, I spent the day with my great grandmother while my parents worked in the gardens and the fields. Grandma was a tiny woman. We would sit and look at her photo albums – treasured pictures of her family. The pictures of her as a young woman showed beautiful dresses – unlike the simple cottons dresses she now wore. I wondered what her life was like as a young woman.
Among her pictures was the picture of a very tall man. Lauri “Big Louie” Moilanen was her cousin. He was my cousin. But when he was alive, he was believed to be the tallest man in the world. I heard stories about Big Louie, but he always seemed to be more fiction than fact. There were pictures, but no stories. And then two years ago I read that a monument was built to honor him in 2013 in Hancock, Michigan. This was the city where I was born. And in the newspaper article I saw a picture – one of the same pictures that my grandma had in her album. So, I began the research on this mysterious man in my family’s history. And the work turned into “The Gentle Giant” – a term that was used to describe him.
We all have real stories in our families. Important stories. Too often I hear people say, “I wish I would have talked to my grandparents about why they came to this country”, or “I wish I would have spent time in the kitchen with my mom learning to make our special holiday dishes.” Our lives are filled with real stories, about real “influencers” in our lives. They are stories that have impacted who we are and who we have become. And yet some people will spend seeking the influencers on social media and engaging in the reality of television shows.
Writing the story of Big Louie has led me to a better understanding the stories of my ancestors and why they came to the United States. My DNA testing from multiple vendors shows that I am anywhere from 93% – 100% Finnish. The 7% differential is related to Siberia, Norway and Sweden, all areas that were initially party of Finnish lands. So, I believe I am 100% Finnish – which is what National Geographic testing told me. But the complicated political history of Finland reveals how this occurred. The city where one of my great grandmothers was born is now part of Russia – a concession made to bring peace in the Winter War of 1939 when Finnish troops held off a major invasion of Finland. However, under pressure from Sweden and Norway to prevent a complete invasion of Scandinavia, Finland ceded all of Finnish Karelia, part of Salla, the Kalastajansaarento Peninsula, four small islands in the Baltic, and was forced to grant a lease of the Hanko Peninsula. Included in the ceded areas was Finland’s second-largest city (Viipuri), most of its industrialized territory, and 12 percent of its population. Those living in the affected areas were permitted to move to Finland or remain and become Soviet citizens.
All of my great grandparents came from Finland. Two of my grandparents were also born there. And they all moved to very Finnish communities in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
Research has shown that Finnish people are the most genetically isolated people from other populations of Europe – both linguistically and geographically. And yet my family left this beautiful country. Why? This began the search for greater understanding of my family’s history.
I started with long talks with my mom. There are advantages to being the oldest child; and being the oldest grandchild provides an additional set of rewards. While some say that parents’ mistakes are made on the oldest child, in my case it provided me a range of opportunities, responsibilities and experiences. I was my parents’ confidant—the person they would talk to when no one else was around to listen—the person expected to complete tasks because I was the oldest—the child who got to know her great grandparents, great aunts and uncles, and grandparents in a way that her siblings would not.
Born in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, my early years were spent with my Finnish family and culture. I lived with great grandparents who spoke no English, so my first spoken words were Finnish. I drank coffee from the time I could hold a cup – with lots of cream, of course. I played the accordion because my father liked Finnish polkas. I balanced the different religious beliefs of my great grandmothers – one who thought music was sinful and another who paid me a quarter to play the accordion for her.
There were many independent women in our family – women who took care of ailing husbands and large families – aunts who maintained their independence after strokes and cancer – great grandmothers who lived independently well into their 80s despite the challenges of living in the North Woods. Men often died young. Dust from the mines filled their lungs; logs crushed body parts in sawmills; bullets of war damaged bodies and minds. My father and mother were not exceptions. They faced many challenges, but always found the strength to overcome obstacles and keep moving forward.
My family’s lives form a beautiful tapestry. Each person is a distinct thread that is woven into a unique design. My threads form only part of the canvas. But the final design is a picture book of memories of our many years together and the love we shared.
Sisu. The Finnish word for extraordinary endurance. It is stamped on shirts, coffee cups, posters, baseball caps and a range of other trinkets sold in stores. Regardless of where it is written, its meaning is widely discussed among Finnish people. Endurance in the field of adversity, persistence, courage, resolve, willpower, a steadfast spirit. It is just what some people call “guts”. It is the unique, yet common bond among Finnish people. But its meaning pales in comparison to the Finnish people in my family – and most important are my parents. My father’s story has a lonely beginning on his grandparents’ farm in a marginalized world of Finnish culture struggling in a newly forming American society. My mother’s story emerges from a long line of hard-working, resilient women who exhibited incomparable physical and mental strength taking care of families – as their husbands struggled to find jobs when the mine closed. Men had to travel to find work, and often left their families behind. Many families left town altogether.
Their stories started many generations ago in Finland, where families endured harsh winters, dangerous childbirths, and famine. As they faced the challenges of 19th century Finland – with its additional job shortages, high taxes, and Russian oppression, they sought out life in a new country. Some women accompanied their husbands; others came with parents; some came alone. Families endured long, crowded travel over cold wintry oceans – sitting or standing on the decks for weeks, for few could afford the more comfortable quarters of the steamships. These were the experiences of Hilda (Salmela) and Jacob Rautio, Marija (Evonen) and Joel Riippa, Wilhelmina (Kinnunen) and John Rantamaki, and Anna (Moilanen) and Benjamin Kereanen – my great grandparents. My father’s parents were first generation in the United States. My mother’s parents were both born in Finland but came to the United States as infants.
My mom had many pictures. Over time I had forgotten who some people were but going over the pictures with my mom and marking down names became very important. As I began, I realized she had little knowledge about why her grandparents left Finland. It was something they didn’t talk about. And so, my research began, and my mom told people we were spending our time looking up “old people”. And as we studied our ancestors, we began with the story of Big Louie. But when my mom died in 2020 due to complications from COVID, I began to write my mother’s story.
Our family stories are important. They give us insight into decades of history. Children born in our family today could have the benefit of 100 years of their family history. If they celebrate their 100th birthday, they will have experienced 100 years of their own story. They are part of 200 years of influence in their lives. What wonderful stories there will be! And so, it is with this in mind that I celebrate the stories of my family – and others – who have influenced our lives.