Rememberment, Chapter VII: Hard Against the World

Mom was born some 11 months after her dad came back from the Winter War. The family was poor to begin with, and war didn't make things any easier. Everything was scarce except for children, who were taught to help with chores from an early age. 

Having lots of kids was necessary, as chances were not all of them would survive. When Mom was a bit older, she got a baby brother. One night, her mother woke her up. "Come, put your hand on your brother's face" she said. "Can you feel how cold he is?" and my mom did as was asked, and judging from her expression when she told me this, was properly traumatized by the experience.

But more children came, and life went on. Mom grew up fast and became tall for a girl, enough so that other kids started making fun of her at school. "So tall she can't hear her own fart" they said, and Mom started to take a hunched posture in order to hide her stature. School wasn't much fun otherwise either - the teacher was harsh and would often pick on those who were either slower to learn or from poorer families. And everyone had lice, particularly the girls. I remember Mom telling me that there was a girl with particularly long hair sitting in front of her at school, and that it was sort of entertaining to watch her hair as it was teeming with life.

In her teens, probably from the age of 13, she worked as a maid during summer. Most of the money she earned went to her parents, but she got to keep some of it. She had decided to buy a bicycle for herself after saving up enough money.

One evening when she was walking home, she noticed a man following her. The man made his intentions clear soon enough, and Mom started running. The chase went on but she managed to escape. At home she told her family what had happened, and that she had recognized the man who chased her. Hearing this, his older brother became furious. He sought out the man in question and beat him to an inch of his life.

Eventually, after all her hard work as a maid, my mom succeeded in saving enough money for the bicycle. She had it for about a week before it was stolen.

There was a dancing stage in the village, and Mom loved to dance. At 15 years of age, that's where she met my dad who was handsome and also a great dancer. He also happened to be six years older than my mom, who had lied about her age.

They quickly fell for each other, but it didn't take long for Dad to find out about the lie. He was angry and told Mom that he would move to Sweden for two years to work as a lumberjack, and after he got back the two would marry.

So Dad took off to Sweden, and paid visits to Mom occasionally. On one of those visits, he brought her an orange as a gift. It was the first time Mom had an orange, and she thought it was the most delicious thing she'd ever tasted.

And after two years, Dad came back to stay and the two got married, exactly as planned. My oldest brother Ari was born the next year, when Mom was 18. Esa was born a year later, and Tapio two years after him.

Mom and Ari.

My three brothers.

Dad in Sweden, circa 1957.

They moved to town, and so Mom finally got away from the village she had grown to hate. "Don't ever bring me back there, neither alive or dead" she once said.

It wasn't any easier in their new home, however. The house had lots of rats. Water was carried in buckets from a well that was a few hundred meters away, and had to be boiled before use. Laundry was done by hand, diapers included. Mom washed cars for a living and Dad fixed them, while the kids were looked after by Mom's younger sisters.

Life took a turn for the worse when my dad fell ill with lung tuberculosis in 1966, and started receiving treatments in the Sanatorium. He also underwent a major surgery, where half of his right lung had to be removed. The doctors were sceptical if he would even survive the operation, but he did, although was left chronically ill. Meanwhile, Mom had to care of everything while dealing with the loss of her own father in 1967. It was somewhere during this time my mom also miscarried, but I don't know exactly when that happened.

Dad had to quit his job as a car mechanic and retrain himself to become an electrical draftsman. The house was too much work, so they moved into an apartment instead. 

And then it was my turn to be born.

While Dad was the one my brothers looked up to the most, and who spent more time with me than he ever did with them, I was always Mommy's boy. She was the one I could turn to when I was looking for comfort. Dad may have been the head of the family, but Mom was the spine. Without her, it would all have fallen apart.

She also had a severe allergy to bullshit and if someone was full of it, she would be the first to point it out. And should someone ask for her opinion on something (or not), they had better be prepared for a dose of unfiltered sincerity. 

There was a cheese tasting once in a local shop and we tried some fancy French fromage, to which she noted that not only did it taste like shit, her fingers now smelled like she had been picking her arse. When my brother dyed his hair blonde, Mom said he looked like a faggot. And when she came home from work, seeing that the rest of the family was just kicking back, she observed that "There are so many men in the house that it reeks of cock, yet nothing gets done".

But she also always had time to listen. She was there if someone needed her help, a shoulder to cry against, or a hug. She worked hard for her whole life for the sake of others, and cared for my dad in his illness until the end. And she baked the most delicious buns in the world.

Her sister told her once that she was being too hard on others, to which she said: "I don't think I am. I'm only hard against the world".

And that she was, my dear Mom.