Like Father Like Son(s)?

I found a picture of my dad taken thirty years ago. I think he's only about twenty years old here, despite the scruffy beard. Many say we share several "aesthetic traits" (and I'm not only referring to the hair loss). I think there are some similarities which is comforting in a no-son-of-postman kind of way.

Surprisingly, more than one of my friends said after my graduation party a few weeks back that my brother Danny resembles my dad, not in the way he looks but in the way he is, the way he talks, acts, walks, and the like. So one got the looks and the other the demeanor? Danny, high five or shoulder to cry on? How about a high-ish five?

Timo Soini, an After-thought

In my post about Timo Soini, the only Catholic MP in Finland, I mentioned that I almost voted for him during the previous elections. I mean the city council elections, not precidential, although he did run for precidency too receiving 103,000 votes. I agreed with all of his values and missions except one, I am not a vehement opposer of the European Union.

Eventually I voted for another candidate (who wasn't elected) because Timo Soini, I thought, wasn't global enough. He is not multilingual, and I felt that he may not see the human race as one big family or not emphasise this enough.

After reading his political biography, Maisterisjätkä - meaning 'Master-dude', referring to both his academic dimension and modest suburban soul - my opinion of his global thinking has slightly shifted to the better. I will be following his political and personal life more acutely in the future. He combines many admirable traits, and the future of his political party, Perussuomalaiset (Traditional Finns), looks very bright indeed.

Olavinlinna Castle

Earlier this week, me and my friends Saila and Emil, Emil's brother Alex and my semi-brother Jan, drove to Savonlinna to see its famous Medieaval castle, Olavinlinna (St. Olaf's). First built by the Swedish Empire sometime in 1475 to protect its interests against the Russians, it is one of the oldest castles in Finland. It's also the world's most northern stone fortreess still standing.

In the photo above (taken by Emil), Alex, Saila, I and Jan are just admiring the view before crossing the draw bridge to take a better look. Over the years it has been extended a couple of times, new towers have been built etc., and it's seen plenty of actual warfare. It surrendered once after a longer siege, but no-one has ever broken into it. Olavinlinna was built on a rock island, so it has splendid natural protection on all sides.

Since 1912 Olavinlinna has hosted the most famous opera festival in Finland, Savonlinna's Opera Festival. During this few day long festival the castle is not open to tourists. The government actually rents the castle out. You can even rent the King's Hall, only, or any other of the various rooms or court-yards for your friends, your wedding, and the like. Our tourist guide told us that the King's Hall costs only 600 euros a day. Think about it! Emil and I immediately started to talk about planning some sort of theological seminar or get-together there.

Teemu the School Boy

My "little brother" Teemu will begin school this August. He can't read or write yet, but he can write his name, identify many letters, track down any (and I'm afraid every) cartoon and music website, and is a regular contributor for the Winx fan-site. Teemu has been a blessing to our family for over five years now. He is still our "little boy", but used to be small enough to hide under ordinary pet-toys.

As the park supervisor looked away...

...Simon saw his opportunity had come, and, commending himself for outsmarting the silly girl, galloped away leaving a trail of dust behind.

Hunting Trip

I have been kindly invited by my friend Saila's father to join him and Saila's uncle on their annual hunting trip this October. I am definitely planning to make it, and even paid my hunting license despite not knowing if I'm even in Finland at that time (I might be in Tanzania). It will be prime season for black grouse (teeri), wood grouse (metso), and hazelhen (pyy). I carry a shotgun (not in public), not a rifle. In other words I've never hunted big game like moose or elk (they're two different species no matter what the British say).


This photo is from my brother's wedding (reception, not ceremony). Somehow his wife Sirkku was able to tell the difference between the moose pelt and Danny's hairy chest, even though Sirkku's brother Sami tried to deceive her by carefully adjusting Danny's crucifix. How she did it remains a mystery to this day.

Papal Infallibility and Timo Soini

Timo Soini, Finland's only Catholic parliament member (the rest are Lutherans or atheists), has given some invigorating interviews in the Finnish media during the last few years. He is open about his Christian faith, and is a refreshing solitary voice in this moral fiberless “land of one truth”. The secular media finds him interesting because he is intelligent, a patriot, and somewhat of a populist (populists tend to offer wonderful material).

Otherwise exceptionally orthodox in his views, at least as far as I understand the Catholic teaching, he said something in the interview in the latest Nyt-liite of Helsingin Sanomat that caught my eye. In addition to mentioning going to confession (only*) once a year, he called the doctrine of papal infallibility “a legend”. By legend I take it he meant something to not take too seriously.

Now, I may not know much about that doctrine, but I do know that most people know nothing. The most common misrepresentation of it takes the form “the Pope's supposedly always right”. Most objections to the doctrine are answered here and in Finnish here. After the doctine has been (over the years) successfully clarified to me, I've lost most my prejudices. The remaining problems are quite subtle and hard to formulate, I will not attempt an elaboration here.

Back to Timo Soini. Being neither a professing Catholic nor a media figure makes it difficult for me to foresee whether anyone will notice his obvious deviation from the official Catholic teaching. Come what may, I hope he succeeds in inspiring a few other Christians to “come out of their religious closet”. I almost voted for the man during the last elections, but thought his social beliefs were not global (or catholic) enough.

* I guess I shouldn't say only. I know two types of Catholics: the first group, that encompasses probably most parishioners, hasn't seen a confessional since their first communion, and the second group, a small number I presume, confess on a weekly or monthly basis and would probably be labeled “fundamentalists” by the first group.

Canadian Maritime

My Canadian Aunt, Auntie Lynn, returned home to British Columbia earlier this week. We miss her already. Over the past few years she's managed to visit us quite a few times, but next on the agenda is - so I've been told - my mother's trip to Canada in 2010 or 2011. (Auntie Lynn might accumulate enough bonus points to visit us in Finland one more time before that though.) My mom and her plan to visit the Maritime Provinces of eastern Canada: Nova Scotia, New Bruinswick, Prince Edward Island, and Newfoundland too, and after that take the famous transcontinental train Canada 1 back to Vancouver.


What does this have to do with the photo above? Nothing, really. Well, Auntie Lynn did take it on her holiday in Helsinki this summer. I think my mother is helping my little nephew Joshua with his lunch or something. I know I'm repeating myself - like a broken monotonous record - but Joshua is so adorable. A little human person.

Human Language

I'm sure I'm not the only person who has these kinds of moments. Every now and then, when you're thinking about a familiar word, any word, thinking about what it means, how it's spelled, what it sounds like when it's said aloud, maybe repeating it a few times - an odd thing may happen. Suddenly, you see it in a new light. This word, used thousands and thousands of times in the past, now seems, looks, and sounds ridiculous. You think to yourself: “Ha, what a dumb word!” (Not the thing the word symbolises, but the words itself.)

Two minutes later, it doesn't seem so stupid anymore, it's returned to its normal familiar state.


I wonder whether on these rare occasions we actually feel the truth which we generally know to be true: that words are merely symbols we quite arbitrarily choose for realities?

The words vary from language to langauge and evolve within each language over time, but the reality remains the same. The thing itself is real, the word is not. But through endless repetition the word and the reality it symbolises have fused into one so that speaking the word immediately brings forth the picture of the reality. But on rare occasions they're detached for a brief moment. And during those moments when the link between the thing and the symbol is not apparent, we realise how inadequate and clumsy the symbol is in comparison to the thing itself.

Perhaps someone can draw even more fundamental conclusions. I don't think trivial phenomena like these are trivial at all: very often they're an echo of an intriguing secret. That makes them so fascinating and worth reflecting on.

A Chocolate-y Laugh

Many people say the loveliest sound in the world is a baby's laugh and the most disturbing is a baby's cry. I am one of these people, I guess. Out of all the baby laugh in history, my nephew Joshua's is probably the cutest. It is so cute - he is so adorable - that you want to kiss him to death. By the way, it's a peculiar thing that parents, at the height of their affection to their children, feel like - and often say it out loud, without thinking too much of it - that they want to eat them. "Oh, I'm going to eat you!" There's a theological theory behind this, but I'm not going into it now. Below Joshua is eating chocolate and enjoying a laugh at the same time.

Pappa and Benjy

When my brother Danny and his wife Sirkku flew to Finland for their summer holiday, the only place that could accommodate them was Sirkku's parents'. Well, it turned out to be loaded with benefits. According to reports, when baby Daniella and/or Benjy wake up early in he morning, all Danny and Sirkku need to do is open their bedroom door. Awaiting behind the door are two pairs of outstretched grandparent arms. Pappa and Mummi have been up since seven waiting for this moment. Danny and Sirkku hand over the woken baby or two and go back to sleep. For parents of small children, this must truly be a superb perk!


Meanwhile, Daniella's and Benjy's uncle - or "Big Daddy", as it's in Swahili - is at home. This summer he refused to give up his apartment to the African relatives. "I want to enjoy the beach nearby," he said, "for this is my last summer in this apartment." Coincidentally the summer's been the worst for years: we're well into July already, and I haven't been on the beach once. I should have just given up my apartment and got points for being a "good uncle".

Fergusons and Restlakes

As my mother is spending quality time with her sister Lynn (that's Auntie Lynn to me) from Canada, my father took the kids to the cabin at Ylöjärvi, central Finland, for most of July. The address is Lepojärventie something and it's beside the lake Lepojärvi... You guessed it: our family has its roots thereabouts. Lepojärvi means Rest-lake. And it sure is a place for rest, even though I'm quite confident my father will find "something to do" for the kids.


There are many toys at the cabin. In the photo above my father is playing with his most favourite one. This 1950's gray Ferguson tractor is something he has always coveted. He bought it for himself for his 50th birthday when we was 46.

Jan Evicted

Jan has been evicted. He had to move out of his room. Auntie Lynn took over. Well, Jan got the good end of the deal. Auntie Lynn brought a lot of very cool gifts from Canada to compensate for Jan's loss. In addition, Jan's new room is the biggest in the house - the attic, that is. No-one bothers the boys upstairs: they play games during the day, venture downstairs only to exchange empty soda bottles for new ones and to fill the bowls of chips, and sleep in late.

Master of Theology

I finally graduated. Last Saturday my parents threw a graduation party for me in their back yard. It was fun. We had wine, sangria, cheese, fruit and berries for “lunch”, and coffee and cheese-cake for dessert. I was very happy that so many brought their children along. For instance, all three of my godchildren (Lily, Oskar, Eddie) were there. The big trampoline and the animals (ducks, chicken, bunnies, cats) were the children's favourite. Many women tried out the trampoline too (“for the kids' sake”, they said). In the evening we had a nice fire, grilled some sausages, and took a sauna. And tried shooting some rats. They tend to follow domestic yard animals. I was just shaking Antti Gorski's hand and welcoming him to the party when another guest (also in a three-piece suit) asked me in a hushed voice, “May I borrow your gun?” Antti - we were still shaking hands - thought to himself, “I came to the wrong party...”