Faces of Finland

OK, so I got a little distracted by a death in the family, a beautiful fall day and an interesting word challenge, but here is the last installation of pictures from my Finland trip. These are my personal favorites: the people.


These are such a beautiful people! Everyone was so kind and friendly. Perhaps the trees all started to look the same after awhile, but I never, ever got tired of watching the people...



I have a baby picture that looks just like this...




We were amused by the Japanese tourists posing for pictures with the little Finnish kids















Shane reaquaints with and old friend--she has held on for 26 years to the book he gave her

All because she asked . . .

. . . and now I won't be able to sleep tonight because the words came tumbling out . . .

creek:
1. What I want to say is that sound my joints make--particularly my knee joints--when I go up and down the stairs.

2a. But really it's that place at the top of the hill behind my Grandpa Rex's house in Randolph just before the run-down old barn and corral, where the grass and willows grew and where we used to spend entire summers tossing down sticks, grass, debris--our innocent and tanned bodies--just to watch them float, or over which we would lay atop the old worn, a-plank-or-two-shy wooden bridge watching our youth float away while the warm summer sun baked the memories into our sweat-silken skin.

2b. Also that place I love up at South Fork Park where I could waste away an entire afternoon without regret while lying by the banks contemplating the soothing sound the water makes as it tumbles across the rocks and over and around itself as if it is both in a hurry to reach someplace wonderful but also quite happy to take its sweet time to get there, determined to enjoy the journey along the way.


orange:
1. (o-rrange) That thing you do with sounds when you can't help but take an ordinary word and try to turn it into something punny.

2a. The color just after yellow and barely before red in every brilliant Utah sunset.

2b. The best flavor I could imagine in the middle of a Utah winter on one of those rare trips to California when the timing is just right and the sweet juice of tree-ripened citrus wakes up my soul with the remembrance of sunshine.


*nauseous:
1. Having a constant need to gnaw on something--crackers, steak, ice, etc.--in hopes of relieving oneself of one's nausea.

2. ~ness: That feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when your kid, your spouse, your best friend--or someone else you love truly, madly, deeply--comes to you with a shaved-off shin, a broken heart, a wayward child, a painful problem for which you know there is no answer, or a confession that will send you into a tailspin of grief and make you want to curl up in a ball and throw up because you know this is something you can't kiss better, put a band-aid over, hug away or fix.


server:
1. You may ask any of the half-my-age computer geeks (whom I love) with whom I work and they will tell you that I (self-referred to as "the village idiot") truly have no idea.

2. What it really is is a another word for woman, daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend. The need to serve is woven into the very fiber of our beings. So ingrained it's indistinguishable from ourselves at the cellular level. I know we, each one of us, will die doing it. We cannot help ourselves. We can only help each other.



I tag the following:
waitingforwednesday
geo
skewedview
b.
(And of course anyone else who wants to play...)

Your words are as follows:

serendipitous

precipitate

wallflower

patina




(* from MW, regarding the great nauseous vs. nauseated debate:
Function: adjective
1 : causing nausea or disgust : NAUSEATING
2 : affected with nausea or disgust
- nau·seous·ly adverb
- nau·seous·ness noun
usage Those who insist that nauseous can properly be used only in sense 1 and that in sense 2 it is an error for nauseated are mistaken. Current evidence shows these facts: nauseous is most frequently used to mean physically affected with nausea, usually after a linking verb such as feel or become; figurative use is quite a bit less frequent. Use of nauseous in sense 1 is much more often figurative than literal, and this use appears to be losing ground to nauseating. Nauseated is used more widely than nauseous in sense 2.)

In which I glanced upon Providence. . .

. . . and chose the road to Paradise.

Today the fates smiled kindly upon me and I volunteered my way to lovely Logan and rediscovered idyll in my life. And here is an account of what happened there:


I continued to be enchanted with the Provo High Marching Band's fun-spirited rendition of "The Nightmare Before Christmas." (Even though I can only see the performance from the back through a tiny break in the marvelous set--I volunteer on the set crew). I get a chill and a thrill and the crowd goes wild every time mere mortal high school students raise the 18' tall Jack and Sally marionettes into the air.

Every time.


I thanked the heavens for such a world in which the golden autumn leaves are prone to dance across the streets and scatter along the sidewalks with wanton abandon.


I pondered the pastoral scenes on the drive from Brigham City to Logan, then from Logan to Paradise (and you thought I was just kidding) then again from Logan to some town without a name just outside of Tremonton and wondered if life doesn't pass by just a little bit more slowly in such serene settings.


I had lunch in a greasy cafe with a dear friend who, before she moved so far away from me (she left Provo for Paradise), instilled in me much love and laughter and this juicy gem of wisdom:

"This too shall pass!"


I finally forsook the foolish idea that "I could make that" and actually purchased two cute pillows for my antique rocking chair in hopes no one will notice the shocking lack of Halloween decorations at my house and that my snowman quilt is still leftover from last Christmas.


I got close enough to the general vicinity of Ty that even though I couldn't see him, I could actually sense the aura of his manic-ness, the infusion of which kept me alert and awake for the long drive home (I didn't know they were doing Extreme Makeover in little old Logan, did you?).


I spent a great day with my 15-year-old son who is a good kid and a lot of fun and who enjoys much of the same music I do (Lorien, we did the Gorillas the way they were just meant to be done) and doesn't (yet) loathe his mother.


(And as if all that were not enough, I arrived home to find a friend had expressed her thanks to me in the language of tres leches).

moi, je regret...

Today I attended the funeral of a wonderful man. A man who wooed my widowed grandmother some 15 years ago while dancing the night away with her and who kept dancing with her long, long after they married. A man who embraced her family of some 250+ and learned all the names and faces and greeted us each with a cheerful smile and a twinkle in his eye each and every time he saw us.

While the services were beautiful and I love to celebrate a life well lived, I still came away with regrets. This isn't the first time I've waited till it was too late to really get to know someone.

I knew Emerson well enough to recognize and appreciate his genuine kindness, his cheerful demeanor, his wonderful laugh and his friendly embrace. But I didn't know how he liked to collect antiques--not in the context of its monetary value--but because the items he collected were all associated with someone he knew, a memory he cherished or a story that needed not to be forgotten. I never knew he had left his family and fought for freedom in World War II--along with two of his brothers--and how he still couldn't speak about having to return home without his younger brother. I didn't know that he liked to shop for my grandmother and that he would often surprise her with beautiful suits and other clothes that were remarkably well chosen. I didn't even know what his life's profession had been before his retirement. I involved myself in other extended family where I felt the need was greater, but now I realize I've missed out spending time with someone special.

Here is what I do know: This 87-year-old man never missed a step when he danced with my grandmother. He never missed a step when he played one-on-one with her either. One of my favorite memories is of an e-mail I got from her one year while they were wintering in Mesquite. She recounted how they--both well into their 80s--had played one-on-one and how proud she was to have outscored him. (He is the only person I've ever known to have gotten away with telling her--kindly, of course--to be quiet so he could finish his story and it sounds as though she is one of the few to have gotten away with beating him at any sport.) This man loved to share the fruits of his labors in caring for a number of enormous cherry trees in his yard, which he faithfully had pruned and sprayed so he could give away the cherries to family and friends. Emerson was genuine, warm and caring. You never left his presence without feeling like you were something special.

This is likely the only man I've ever met who is capable of keeping up with my almost-ninety but entirely unstoppable grandmother.

Another favorite memory is of a couple of winters ago when Emerson and Pearl were on there way to hear a country music band they both really liked. The concert was at night and the weather was stormy and cold, so ice and snow were a hazard. Apparently the two of them slipped on the ice and they both fell right outside the venue at UVSC. Because their injuries--while minor--did require some medical attention, the people at UVSC wanted to whisk them off to the hospital to be cared for. Both refused any treatment for their injuries, however, until after the concert was over.

So, I do have regrets today. I regret forgetting that we don't have all the time in the world with the people we love. I regret not making more of an effort to visit this set of grandparents. I regret not ever telling Emerson how much I respect and appreciate and love him.

I also came away with some hopes. I hope I will be dancing and shooting hoops when I'm 87. I hope my next door neighbor--should she speak at my funeral--will say she doesn't remember hearing an unkind word from my lips. I hope I will always be cheerful and grateful--even when the world doesn't always dish me out a bowl full of cherries. I hope I can talk to God each day like a good friend and remember to end my conversation with, "Thanks for this good life."

Thanks, Emerson, for sharing your good life with me.

City Streets II: I love this town!

Helsinki is such an amazing city! So colorful and distinct and interesting. I decided the best way to do Helsinki was not to worry about trying to see everything, but to just take the time to savor it--to feel it, hear it, and just watch--wherever I was and whatever I was doing. Several times we just got on the "trolley" and rode whatever loop was in the area and just looked out the window.
I could live here in a heartbeat. I think I could be a professional shopper (I have never seen suge HUGE department stores--nothing like a mall, really). Well, all except for the in-just-a-couple-months-there'll-only-be-three-hours-of-daylight-and-everything-will-be-buried-under-ice-and-snow thing. (I know for sure I'd go to market every day to buy some tomatoes.)












The Rock Church was built right into a big chunk of granite



















For our second (and longest) stay in Helsinki, our hotel had the BEST view! We looked out on one of the squares and could see just about anything and anybody. We left the window open constantly so we could watch and listen. (Did I mention how fabulous the shopping is here?)