What My Heart Remembers

Story ID:	463
Written by:	Maria Harden
Story type:	Family History
Location:	Atikokan Ontario Canada
Year:	1963
Person:	Family

What My Heart Remembers


While strolling past a holiday display of greenery and shiny baubles, a whiff of pungent pine boughs instantly transported me back to a time when life was simpler and demands were fewer. Growing up and lacking in worldly goods, but rich in family, was the best upbringing four children could have in the 1960's, when the winter winds blew a chilling numbness into our very bones.

Home was the small, secluded mining town of Atikokan, located in northwestern Ontario. Other than my brother, we children weren't close enough in age that we could play with each other's toys. One sister was five years older than I, and the other sister was six years younger. This was a relief to my parents, who then did not have to referee as many arguments.

Our family was not exactly poor but luxuries were few and far between. In the innocence of youth, how could we miss what we did not know? We always had a roof over our heads and enough to eat. Our parents provided us with a caring and stable childhood, and always encouraged us to be the best we could be. Mom made most of our clothes, cultivated a garden, preserved food, and was creative and imaginative in many ways. She did not work outside of the home at a paying job, but worked within the house, which she made into a comfortable home. Dad laboured in the iron ore mines, and later the forest industry. He was renowned for his excellence in craftsmanship, as well as his sense of humour and practical jokes.

Living where we did, we struggled through some bitterly cold winters. The tract house we lived in was very small and poorly insulated, so Dad would pile snow up against the outside of the house for added insulation. An old oil heater stood in a corner between the kitchen and living room, where its heat emanated and confronted winter's chill. A short length of clothesline was strung over the heater, to hang our damp mittens when we came in from a day of playing in the snow. There was always a pan of water near the heater to help with the humidity.

Two tiny bedrooms held five people: Mom and Dad slept in one; my sisters and I slept in the other. My brother had a foldaway cot that was kept in a closet and taken out every night. This meant that no one could stay up very late since the living room was also his bedroom. I always thought he was lucky, since he had the warmest room in the house.

I loved it when the windows were covered with frosty, lacy patterns. Often it was so cold in our bedrooms that our bedding froze to the wall. The clothes in our closets would become moldy from the damp, clammy outer walls. There were many nights when I went to bed almost fully clothed, for warmth. On top of my pajamas, I sometimes wore a sweater, and hand knit socks kept my feet warm.

We became experts at improvising. If we didn't have it, we made it, or did without. We did not have a deep freezer, so Dad constructed an outdoor makeshift one to use in the winter. There was a stoop in our backyard, so he closed in the sides. We would store the Christmas turkey and other meat in a box, which was then squirreled away in this icy cubbyhole.

We had a wringer washing machine for doing the laundry, but no dryer. Mom hung the wet laundry on the clothesline in the backyard all the time, no matter what the season. In the winter, the clothes dried in the sub-zero weather while hanging on the line, but of course they also froze. It was quite a chore getting the stiff clothes inside, and then hanging and propping them up everywhere so they would defrost. One night my sister awoke, thinking there was an intruder in the house. She was positive that she saw a shadow resembling a man, but was too afraid to get out of bed to investigate. After cowering under her blankets in imagined terror all night, the bleak morning light identified the culprit as our father's long underwear, hanging up to dry

Much to our chagrin, we didn't live far enough away from school to be among the privileged students who rode the school bus. It was about a mile's walk but we made it interesting by taking a variety of routes. We wore layers of clothing for warmth, and were cocooned in colourful, Scandinavian-patterned scarves, hats, and mittens, which Mom had knit. Off we waddled, looking for the entire world like chubby little penguins.

Hibernation was never part of our existence. To escape the confines of the house, we thought nothing of spending hours outdoors, sledding on big pieces of cardboard down the riverbank to the solidly frozen river, or ice skating in the backyard rink. We built elaborate snow forts with pine boughs for a makeshift floor. Sometimes we begged for a candle, so we could light it inside the fort. Winter was no deterrent to our imaginations.

Christmas was celebrated a little differently, since we were immigrants from Finland with our own customs. We never had the tradition of hanging up Christmas stockings, and the Santa Claus myth was only believed in when we were very young. We were the envy of our friends, as our custom was to open our presents on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas morning. What great pleasure we took in phoning them later to gloat about our gifts, knowing they did not get to open theirs until the morning!

The first feverish preparations of Christmas had begun when the box of recycled Christmas wrap was brought out of storage. Every piece had been carefully folded and saved to reuse for future Christmases, as were the ribbons and bows. We even kept all our Christmas cards and cut them into gift tags, wasting nothing. It was rather exciting when a new package or roll of gift-wrap was purchased. Money was scarce, so we had to make do with what we had.

Every year, around early December, we would receive a huge parcel from our grandmother in Finland. The box came sewn up securely in white sheeting, fairly bulging with its mysterious contents, and had our name and address written in black indelible pen right on the fabric. We had to cut the material off to get it open. Inside we found special treats: Finnish coffee, chocolates, candy, lingonberry preserves, and other delicacies. There were presents for all of us, everything from woolen blankets, clothes, children's books, Scandinavian Christmas ornaments, fabric, and other useful items.

Our parents always gave us a few dollars to spend on each other. The house soon became full of secret whisperings and rustlings, as we deliberated at great length over what to get our siblings and parents. Our own wish lists were simple, since we knew and accepted at a very young age that extravagant gifts were not possible. When Simpson - Sears and Eatons came out with their Christmas catalogues, the pages were none-the-less eagerly thumbed through and our lists were made and changed a dozen times over the forthcoming weeks. Although we dreamed the sugar plum dreams, we were always content with whatever we were given.

One year, my older sister and I both got realistic baby dolls. Mine had brown eyes and hers had blue eyes. Mom had made extensive wardrobes for these dolls which rivaled that of any fashion model. We loved and played with these dolls for years. I also remember receiving a big book of children's stories, which had a story for every day of the year. I think I devoured the entire book by New Year's Day, since I was unable to restrict myself to just one story a day. Another year, we all received ice-skates, and although they were second hand, we didn't care. I just remember how excited we were to each own a pair of skates. My brother was very much into wrestling, and once he bought Dad a wrestling magazine for Christmas. When Dad opened it, Tim asked, "Can I read it when you're done with it?" It was obvious whom he really brought that magazine for!

Our tree was always an evergreen that Dad had cut down in the bush somewhere and we all took part in decorating it. Rather than buying ornaments, we made a lot of our own, following Finnish customs. One kind I remember in particular were small heart baskets and lanterns, woven in a basket-weave pattern out of brightly coloured strips of foil paper and hung on the tree. We also made colourful paper garlands from strips of construction paper, which we glued into circles, and then linked together to form a chain. Every year we declared the tree the most beautiful one ever.

A few times, we all packed into our old Studebaker and headed to Port Arthur, where many Finnish immigrants lived. There, we attended what was called "Pikkujoulu," a child's Christmas party. What a treat this was for us! There was plenty of food, candy, music, and a visit from "Joulu Pukki" himself, as well as his elves. While the adults socialized, the children played, sang and danced, enjoying the camaraderie. I remember once someone there was making a reel-to-reel tape of personal Christmas greetings, which was then to be sent to a radio station in Finland to be broadcast. Everyone was invited to record their greetings, so of course Dad sent one on our behalf, but we never knew if any of our relatives heard it. We liked to think they did. After these festivities were over, it was a tiring two-hour drive back home, but we agreed unanimously that the trip was always worth it.

Besides the usual socializing that went on at this time of year between friends and relatives, there was also a Finnish tradition of attending a "Christmas sauna" at the home of someone who was lucky enough to have one. We did not have a sauna, so enjoyed having one whenever we could. When we were invited for this event at the home of other Finnish people, we would have our sauna, and then partake in a spread of delicious foods, which the hosts provided.

Christmas Eve supper was a gala event, with turkey and many special once-a-year treats. One of my favourites, and remains so to this day, is a carrot and turnip casserole. Mom also baked sweet coffee bread called "pulla" year round, but at Christmas she decorated it with candied cherries and slivered almonds to make it festive. Pails of special cookies, rich with the scent of spices, had been made and stored away weeks ahead of time. We also had stocked up on special Finnish breads and pastries from a Finnish bakery in Port Arthur.

After dinner, we had to make sure the dishes were done. Sometimes we went to church. Later, at home, we would turn off most of the lights, and my older sister would read the nativity story to us by the colourful, twinkling lights of the tree. Finally, after endless pleas of "When can we open the presents?" the moment finally arrived. One child was always chosen to distribute the gifts. Despite our excitement, we opened them carefully one at a time, saving the wrapping paper for the next year, and savouring the gift within. It was a joyous and special time.

Christmas Day was a quiet family day to relax and enjoy our new toys. Sometimes the phone would ring and it would be relatives calling all the way from Finland to wish us a "Hyvää Joulua." We would listen to traditional Christmas music on the old record player, or watch the black and white television in the living room. When the Queen came on with her annual Christmas message, we felt that the peace in our hearts was just the beginning of the peace she prayed for on earth.

This is what my heart remembers.


Maria Harden



Pikkujoulu - 'Little Christmas,' a festive children's Christmas party
Joulu Pukki - Santa Claus
Hyvää Joulua - Merry Christmas