MY
LIFE'S
STORY

MY LIFE'S STORY

by Evelyn Hartman Park, M. D.

Contents

CHAPTER I
GENEALOGY AND EARLY YEARS

CHAPTER II
MY YEARS IN FINLAND

CHAPTER III
BACK TO AMERICA

CHAPTER IV
COMBINING MARRIAGE AND CAREER

CHAPTER V
MY EXPANDING CAREER

CHAPTER VI
THE RETIREMENT YEARS

CHAPTER VII
STARTING A NEW LIFE

CHAPTER VIII
ALONE AGAIN

CHAPTER I

GENEALOGY AND EARLY YEARS

I was born in Hancock, Michigan to Rev. J. T. Raphael Hartman and Hilja Marie Wargelin Hartman. In order to understand me, it is necessary to know my parents. They were married on November 30, 1911 in Hancock.

My Father's Genealogy

My father was born on September 10, 1877 to Rev. Zacharias Hartman and his wife Emma Sundvik. My oldest known forefather was Johan Hartman, b. 1756, d. 1809. He was a master shoemaker and a municipal council member. His son was Jacob Kristian, b. 1788, d. 1846. He matriculated from the lyceum in 1805 and was a merchant.

His son was Johan Peter, b. 1816, d. 1853. He was a farmer. His son was my grandfather, Johan Zacharias, b. November 1, 1848, d. March 20, 1908. He was an ordained minister. His first wife was my grandmother, Emma Josefina Sundvik, b. November 20, 1851 and died on April 4, 1884 in childbirth. Their third child was my father, who was only six years old when his mother died. His father later remarried.

My grandmother's oldest known ancestor was Jacob Sundvik, known to have lived with his son during 1765 and 1766. The son, Gabriel Jacobsson b. 1720, d. 1797 owned a farm. His son was Johan Sundvik, b. 1759, d. 1813. He was a municipal employee.

His fifth child was Gustaf Vilhelm b. 1788, d. 1822. He was a landowner and also a municipal employee. His sixth child was Karl Edward b. 1822, d. 1886. He was an artist, a painter. He was married to Katarina, Lovisa Wellberg, b. 1821, d. 1858. Their fifth child was my grandmother, who was only six years old when her mother died.

My paternal grandmother attended an elementary teacher training seminary in Stockholm, Sweden. Her mother tongue was Swedish, which was the language spoken in my father's home in his early childhood. After his father remarried the family language became Finnish, although every once in a while his father would revert to Swedish.

My Mother's Genealogy

My mother was born on November 12, 1886 to Isaac Wargelin and his wife Elisabet Uitto in Isokyro, Finland.

The oldest known ancestor of my maternal grandfather was Matz Hindersson, a farmer, b. 1592, d. 1673. His son was Thomas Mattson, b. 1620, also a farmer, who was still alive in 1689. His son was Matts Thomasson Varg, b. 1650. He worked on his father's farm in 1686 and was a juror on September 11, 1697. Date of death unknown.

His son was Simon Mattson Warg, b. 1690, d. March 29, 1736 or 1737. His son was Anders S. Wargelin, b. 1718, d. 1804, who became a pastor and received his M. A. degree from Turku University. It was at this time he took the Latin ending to his name.

His son was Isaac Wargelin, b. October 7, 1753, d. August 24, 1813. He received his M. A. degree in 1778 and was ordained a Pastor in 1781. His fifth child was Maria Sofia, b. December 15, 1797, d. August 5, 1881. She was married to a tenant farmer Kustaa Manni b. 1797 and killed in an accident in ?. Maria Sofia moved back to live with her parents in the parsonage and resumed her maiden name of Wargelin.

Her third child was Isaac Wargelin, b. 1828, d. 1912. His third child was also Isaac Wargelin b. 1855. He migrated to the United States in 1887, d. 1895. He worked in the mines and died probably of a ruptured appendix. He married my maternal grandmother, Elisabet Uitto, b. 1855.

In 1890 my grandmother and her children migrated to the United States to join her husband. My mother, the third of five children, was only three years old at the time. The two youngest children were born in the United States.

My maternal grandmother was the oldest child of Juho Uitto. There is no further information on her forefathers. She had two sisters, one of whom migrated to the United States with my grandmother.

My Early Childhood

I was born on November 25, 1912. At that time my father taught in the Theological Seminary at Suomi College in Hancock, Michigan. My mother had worked in the Book Concern before her marriage. My parents had met in Hancock. I was baptized by Uncle John. My uncle Isaac Wargelin and his family also lived in Hancock. My first outing at one month of age was at Christmas to the home of Uncle Isaac.

I have no recollection of those early years, of course. My parents had moved to New York, where my father served as pastor and where I celebrated my first birthday. My brother, Theodor, was born there in 1914. He had a godmother, who also remembered me with gifts. I still use the silver spoon with gold that she gave me. The reason my parents had moved to New York was that my father wanted to return to Finland from where he had come in 1907 to the United States to become a pastor in Conneaut, Ohio and Erie, Pennsylvania. In 1908 he was offered the job at Suomi College.

My father was very well educated. He received his M. A. degree from the University of Helsinki, Finland, following which he studied theology and was ordained a pastor in the Finnish Lutheran Church. I still have a postcard to my father from his brother, who wrote, "Why in the world would you want to go to America?"

World War I was raging in Europe at the time we lived in New York. My mother was adamant and refused to move to Finland. After two years in New York we moved again. I am told that while in New York, I caused some anxious moments for my parents. Once I had locked myself in the bathroom of our 4th floor apartment. The only way my father could reach me was to enter the bathroom through the window from the adjoining bedroom. Another time I had turned on the gas burners on the kitchen stove and waited for the fire to come on. Fortunately my mother smelled gas and came to my rescue.

After New York we lived for a short time in Hancock on the second floor of my grandmother's house. I would go downstairs to visit and like two old women, we sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Mine was mostly milk with a faint tint of brown, but my mother was furious with my grandmother for teaching me to drink coffee at that age.

I was told that my Aunt Hildur, who was staying with my grandmother and had tuberculosis, could not come near me, but only stood at the door looking at me. When we had lived in New York she had written to my mother that I must be the sweetest baby in all of New York.

My first memories are from Copper Cliff, Ontario, Canada, where we had moved in 1916. I remember climbing on a kitchen chair and then to the table to reach the salt on the top shelf in the cupboard. I was eating it with a spoon, when my father caught me at it. I also remember our swing in the back yard, where my brother fractured his leg. I had once told my father not to preach so long in church, so he humored me and preached only a fifteen minute sermon, much to the amazement of the congregation. My sister Dagmar was born in Copper Cliff in 1917.

We left Copper Cliff in 1918 for Waukegan, Illinois to attend the funeral of my aunt Hildur. My father had left earlier to substitute for my uncle John, who had become the president of Suomi College. We lived with his family in Waukegan. I remember how I was lifted up to view my aunt in her casket.

I started Kindergarten in Waukegan. The only thing I remember there was the little black boy who was so tired that he always slept with his head on his desk. I also remember the tapioca pudding my aunt used to serve, which I hated.

My Early School Age Years

That same year we moved back to Hancock, Michigan and stayed at first with my uncle Isaac and his family. The influenza epidemic which was raging around the world caught up with us in Hancock. First my mother and sister Dagmar became ill. To protect my brother Theodor and me, I remember my father carrying me all bundled up to stay with some friends who had no children.

Soon Theodor and I too became ill, as did our hosts and my uncle Isaac's family members. My father was the only one to remain well. It was too much for him to care for two households of patients, so my grandmother, who then was living in Waukegan came to his rescue.

All of us recovered except for my sister Dagmar. At the moment of her death my mother was asleep and heard the most beautiful music by an angelic choir. My father performed the burial with only my grandmother present, because of the fear of spread of the disease.

My father served as a pastor in American Missions for two years until 1920 when he again joined the faculty of Suomi College. At first we lived in a rented apartment, while my father traveled extensively. During this time I experienced most of the childhood infectious diseases, such as measles, whooping cough and scarlet ever. For the latter we were quarantined, including my brother who missed school. He was chagrined, because I was promoted and he was held back in his class.

During my bout with scarlet fever, my grandmother visited us daily and brought bananas and ice cream, because they were the only foods I could swallow. It's a wonder my cousins didn't get the infection, because my grandmother lived with Uncle John and his family.

I remember the wonderful pillow fights I had with my brother, as we were recovering from the measles and were in adjoining bedrooms. My brother Kaarlo was born at this time on October 12, 1919. Since it was on Columbus Day, the nurses at the hospital suggested he be named Christopher.

It must have been the following year we moved into our own house at 1137 Summit St., telephone number 898J. It was a modern house even by today's standards. On the first floor we had the living room, dining room, large kitchen, two bedrooms, bathroom and pantry. On the second floor there were two bedrooms and a clothes closet the width of the house between the bedrooms. One of the upstairs bedrooms was mine, and the other served as my father's office. In the front part of the house was a large unfinished attic.

We had a large basement, which served as laundry, furnace area, area to store mother's preserves on shelves and our play area, where we could even roller skate.

Outside we had a small yard with two weeping willow trees in front. In the back my mother grew vegetables. There was also a barn, that we converted into a playhouse. We lined the walls with samples of wallpaper of all different patterns and colors. We had great times there.

This is the house that represents my childhood home, because we lived in it for seven years until the summer of 1927. It was here, at age ten, that I decided I wanted to become a doctor, a rather unusual decision, since all my female cousins in America and my friends wanted to become teachers.

It was here my sister, Edith was born and I chose her name. I was so excited about her arrival I had to tell my teacher in school. She was born on January 18, 1923.

I had a happy childhood. Money was scarce in our home, but I never knew about it. I had everything: loving parents, food and shelter, a good school which I loved and plenty of friends.

In addition to our immediate family, we also had an extended family living in Hancock. There were Uncle Isaac, a teller at a bank, Aunt Ida and their children, Wilho, Aino and Arno. These cousins were all quite a bit older than I.

Then there was Uncle John's and Aunt Marie's family consisting of Philip, Raymond and Sylvia. My grandmother or Mummo, as we called her, lived with them. Sylvia was my best friend. She often led the way in daring acts, like climbing up the outside fire escape at her school and then sliding down the chute in our stocking feet.

Sylvia was much more lively than I. I remember once when we were all sitting outside on our front porch and Sylvia was fidgeting. Her mother told her to sit still like I was doing. Much, much later she told me I was a paragon of perfection. Sylvia had a good singing voice and so she was encouraged to sing. Nobody paid any attention to my singing. I was encouraged in my piano playing, which I had started at the age of seven, under the tutelage of my mother and later under the music teacher at Suomi College, Martti Nisonen.

Later I learned to play the organ at the college. At home we had a little trio, in which I played the piano, my mother the mandolin and my brother Theodor the violin. My mother had a good singing voice as did her two brothers. She sang in a choir under Martti Nisonen and often soloed as a soprano.

Our Christmas holidays were full of fun. We usually spent Christmas Eve at one home, Christmas day at another and New Year's Day at the third one. I could never understand until I was an adult why my mother dreaded having to entertain. After all, she and my aunts had to prepare a big dinner for at least seventeen people, because my Uncle Bill and Aunt Frances, who lived in Chicago, also came to Hancock for the holidays.

Uncle Bill and Aunt Frances were married by Uncle John in his home. I remember how Aunt Ida attached all kinds of clinging and clanging objects to their car before they left.

I took part in Sunday School plays. If I didn't remember the lines I ad-libbed. This of course confused my fellow actors. I was in plays in school, too. Once I was one of the twenty-four blackbirds baked in a pie in a show we presented at the local theater.

In the winter I loved to skate. There was an outdoor skating rink, but on Saturdays I would walk to the indoor large rink; I think it was in Hancock's sister city, Houghton, across Portage Lake.

We never traveled anywhere in the summertime, like Uncle John's family in his Model T Ford. I was very envious of them. Now I know we were the fortunate ones, because most summers we would stay at the Suomi College campground about seven miles outside of Hancock. There was a log cabin with one room and a wonderful beach where I learned to swim. My father would walk to work in town.

If we were not at the lake, I would walk from home to the public beach, which was about two miles down the hill from our house. By the time you got back, you were as hot and tired as before you started.

One of my cherished memories is of my mother and I going to the Kaleva Cafe in downtown Hancock, where I had apple pie and a glass of milk and she had pie and a cup of coffee. I had her all to myself then. The Cafe is still in existence under different management and the pasties and pulla (cardamom coffee bread) that they make are still the same as before.

Death of my Brother Theodor

Theodor's death caused a major upheaval in our lives. One day he came home from school and was unusually irritable during supper. That evening he began to vomit and during the night became unconscious. The doctor diagnosed him as having spinal meningitis. He had a terrible headache all the next day. The following day he died.

Since it was an infectious disease we were quarantined and not allowed to even attend his funeral, which my father conducted. It was a terrible shock to all of us, especially my mother, who never really got over it. I had terrible guilt feelings, because as all siblings we often had squabbles and I was sure his death was a punishment for this.

He died on February 3, 1927 at the age of twelve years. Some time later a classmate of his told his parents, and they in turn told my parents, that a class bully had kicked my brother's feet from under him so his head hit the cement floor, causing his death. In order to prove this, it would have been necessary to exhume him. My parents decided against it, because it would not have brought him back. My brother had always been afraid of this bully. When my cousin Raymond visited us he would ask Theodor whom would he want him to fight against. Theodor was a gentle, sensitive boy who was not able to fight.

An earlier tragedy had occurred when a friend visiting us at the summer camp drowned while we children were swimming and playing around on a raft in deep water on Portage lake. The mother of this, her only child, was quite bitter and said why couldn't Theodor have died instead because my mother had other children. Theodor did die two years later.

My mother was so grief stricken from the loss of her son that she told my father that if he wanted to move to Finland it didn't matter to her anymore. Immediately he began to make plans to leave as soon as the school year at the College ended in May. The rest of the family would follow my father later. Our house was sold for $3,000, which provided the fare for us.

We lived at my Uncle Isaac's home until we left in August when school for Kaarlo and me was out. Also, I wanted to go to Confirmation School conducted by Uncle John in nearby Chassell. I was younger than usual to be confirmed, but I was scared to death of having to attend Confirmation School in Finland in the Finnish language.

I had a beautiful ending to my confirmation. My father had found a position as an assistant to an elderly minister, Rovasti Enqvist, in Hameenlinna, where we settled. The first Sunday they had communion at the church, I dressed in my white confirmation dress and, after all other communicants were through, my mother and I went to the communion rail and my father joined us. All three of us received the communion from another minister. It was a holy and unforgettable experience for me.

Back to Hancock. It was exciting, but scary and sad, to be leaving behind everything familiar, my school and all my friends, to go to an unknown future. The mother of one of my classmates commiserated with me, saying "poor Evelyn has to go to the old country." I thought bears would be roaming the streets of Helsinki and that I wouldn't be able to get lead for my new eversharp pencil. My teachers were sorry to see me go and one of them gave me a beautiful gift of a silver pin.

The final day came and we said our last farewells to Grandma and the other relatives. Someone gave us a paper sack of fresh strawberries, which my mother placed on the rack above the seat on the train. It wasn't too long before something red that looked like blood began dripping on us and our new clothes. The bag of strawberries was tossed away.

Our first stop was in Chicago to stay a little while with Uncle Bill and Aunt Frances. Then on by train to New York, where we stayed with mother's old friends, the Andersons. They had a daughter, Aina, who took me to Coney Island one day. The excursion went fine, but my mother was on pins and needles the entire time, because she was afraid that we would lose each other in the subways, where the doors closed so suddenly. Aina's mother also was very worried.

The day of departure arrived. The four of us shared a stateroom. It was a festive departure; paper ribbons connected us to the shore until they broke off and we were sailing away. I got seasick as soon as the ship began moving, but I soon recovered and enjoyed the voyage.

My mother had an unpleasant experience. She started washing her long, beautiful hair in the shower, not knowing it was salt water. What a mess. It was quite a job to get the salt out of her hair and wash again with fresh water.

We arrived in Stockholm, Sweden, and took a ferry across to Turku, Finland, where my father and his oldest brother Uncle Alarik met us at the pier. We arrived on August 19, 1927 in the land of the midnight sun. What an experience to be able to read in the middle of the night! Our years in Finland had begun. Little did we know what lay before us in hardships, death, sorrow and war. All this had a profound effect on me. But for now we rejoiced in being reunited with our father and getting to know his relatives.

CHAPTER II

MY YEARS IN FINLAND

Our first meal in Finland was memorable. We went to a restaurant and my uncle ordered a concoction of rice, liver and raisins. Only my father could eat it. Later I did learn to like this dish, but not then.

My mother and we children went to Masku for a month or so, before we went to Hameenlinna and until our home was ready. We lived with Aunt Estrid, my father's sister, and her husband, who was a minister. They had four children. It seemed we were eating all the time. First there was morning coffee, which was brought into the bedroom to my mother.

Midmorning there was a substantial breakfast, then maybe lunch, I don't remember, then afternoon coffee, then dinner and finally an evening snack. My companion was mostly my cousin Toini, who was a couple of years older than I. My sister Edith, who was four years old at the time, couldn't understand why the relatives couldn't understand what she was saying, when she understood perfectly what they were saying. She understood Finnish, but could only speak English at the time.

Once Toini and I went with her father when he conducted devotionals at a home. I'm sure he spoke for more than an hour. It seemed he would never finish his sermon. It was hard not to fidget.

Finally we children joined our parents in Hameenlinna. It was also time to start school. Usually one had to take entrance examinations, but they were waived for me because I probably would have failed them anyway. I was placed in a grade two years below my age level. I had to catch up with a third year in Swedish and a second year in German. My father tutored me in Swedish and the elderly pastor's daughter in German. By Christmas I was able to join my classmates in these subjects. In America I had had a year of algebra, but my classmates had taken a year of geometry, so here again I had to study extra hard to keep up.

During the summers preceding the previous two school years the students had to collect plants, identify them and mount them dried on paper. Of course I did not have the 150 specimens, so my passing grade would depend on having collected 200 specimens. This was an almost impossible task, but my parents arranged for a classmate to spend the entire summer with me collecting the plants. It was really a crash course, so to this day I have difficulty identifying plants. The summer after that we had to collect insects and mount them, too.

Besides catching up academically with my classmates, I also had to overcome a culture shock. Once in class, without asking the teacher for permission, I walked up to her and whispered in her ear. The class was aghast.

I had a neighbor girl, Helvi, who was my age but ahead of me in school. She had a brother a little older than her. I thought nothing about calling him by his first name. This again was against Finnish protocol, even among young teenagers. He asked his sister what he should call me.

One day it was raining and I took my mother's purple umbrella to school. As I was walking down the street, I met a couple of men in overalls. They looked at the umbrella and sarcastically called out, "It's very pretty, but it isn't even raining." All the umbrellas at that time in Finland were black.

I felt sorry for that young girl, having to overcome so many obstacles, but overcome them she did. Her classmates laughed at her American pronunciation of Finnish. That was bad enough, but when the teacher also laughed, it almost devastated her. I was determined to learn the language perfectly and so I did and by the end of the school year no one could tell that I had ever spoken another language. I don't believe my brother had quite the same adjustment problems as I, because he was able to start school in Finland at the usual age of seven. In America of course we started at age five. My sister was too young for school yet.

I'm sure it was difficult for my mother too, but fortunately there was a family, the Boyers, that eased the transition for all of us. Mrs. Nettie Boyer had been born in San Francisco and married her Finnish husband there. She became my mother's lifelong friend and later mine.

The Boyers had five children and I was quite a bit with the daughter, Ruth. However it was the mother I could speak English with. The family in addition to their city home had a beautiful large home, Omatunto, on a lake and we went there at every opportunity. In the winter we skated on the ice and in the summer we enjoyed the water.

On rainy days we would go upstairs and rummage the attic for old English magazines, which I devoured. Those were wonderful times. Some years later, during the war, tragedy hit the family. The two older boys died in the war. A third son became ill with typhoid fever and died. The youngest daughter also died of tuberculosis during the war. Only two daughters survived until maturity, married, and had families.

We experienced new Finnish foods. My brother and I at Easter time ate large amounts of "mammi," a black gooey dessert, that was eaten with sugar and thick cream. Did we ever get sick! After that a small portion was sufficient.

Joensuu

My father had accepted a position as a teacher of religion and the beginnings of philosophy at a boys' school in Joensuu. Our first home was a two-story duplex. We occupied the entire house with the bedrooms upstairs and the living areas downstairs. Later we moved to another more convenient home all on one floor.

We spent our summers in Kontiolahti, where my father had another job as associate pastor. We lived in the almost empty parsonage. We had large wooden crates serving as tables. It was a perfect place to spend the summers, because there was a lake nearby.

We had a maid to help with the housework. It was a necessity, because the clothes had to be washed by hand and wood had to be carried in to heat the stoves in the various rooms of our homes, both in Hameenlinna and Joensuu. We also had to use the public sauna for our weekly bath, because there was only a toilet in our homes.

While in Kontiolahti, my mother started to scrub and clean the outhouse one day. The family that rented and tilled the parsonage fields lived in a small house next to the parsonage. It was quite a sight to see the entire family at the window staring at my mother, the minister's wife, washing the outhouse. It was just not done in this country. Again, cultural differences.

I don't remember what school my brother attended, but I went to a co-educational school. My German teacher was an aristocratic looking gentleman who had started out studying medicine. He was present at home when his father was brutally shot and killed during the turbulent times before Finland obtained its independence from Russia. His father had been a high ranking Finnish official representing Finland in the government. This teacher had diagnosed my nearsighted-ness and had urged my parents to take me to an ophthalmologist, because I couldn't see the blackboard.

His wife, a beautiful, lovely lady, was my math teacher and also the leader of the troop of girl guides I belonged to. I had been a girl scout already in America. I will always remember the wintry dark starlit night when we were outside studying the sky and the stars. I had earned many badges under her tutelage, such as starting a fire without a match.

I had a classmate whose last name was Surakka. Her father was a fairly wealthy merchant, and they had formal teenage dances at their home, to which I was invited. At the first one, as an honored guest I stood in the receiving line next to a lot of Surakkas. After hearing that name so often, when it was my turn to introduce myself, I too said Surakka.

I believe my mother was as happy in Joensuu as at any time in Finland. She joined the wives of the teachers of the school where my father taught and studied French with them and took painting lessons. Each Easter, I still take out the tablecloth she painted.

We had living with us a young boy, Aslak, the son of a minister who lived in Lappland. My mother would teach us all many kinds of games and stunts, such as walking through a broom and flying paper birds from her fingers.

My mother was asked to teach English at the local girls' school. She received special permission to do so from the National Board of Education. She was just adored by the students. I too became very popular during this time because the girls must have believed that they had access to my mother through me.

Hiitola

After two years in Joensuu, we moved again. This time my father became an associate pastor in a rural parish, Hiitola. At this point I want to tell something about my father. He had never really been happy in America and felt that he was losing opportunities for jobs in Finland. I'm sure that was true, because he was already fifty years old when we moved to Finland. He always felt like an alien in America. Although he had a large English vocabulary, his pronunciation was bad and as a child I was embarrassed by it. He had done his teaching in Hancock in the Finnish language, but all signs indicated that English would be the future language.

I believe that he was always in the shadow of my Uncle John, who was president of Suomi College and a very dynamic and charismatic person. It seemed that my father had shed a heavy burden after we moved to Finland. His youngest brother had died while he was still in America and he was afraid all of his siblings would die without him seeing them anymore.

My parents experienced some difficult times prior to our move to Hiitola. Although he had been duly elected to the position in Hiitola and was the only applicant, there was a small group who were pushing for a local missionary for the job, although he was not qualified. They began spreading false rumors about my father, saying he was handicapped and dragged one of his legs. My father was very agile on his feet and could outwalk me anytime.

Our parsonage was located two kilometers from the church and the senior pastor's residence. It was a long one-story yellow building with seven rooms, and a kitchen, a maid's room, and a very large pantry or storage room. It really was a beautiful home, but it lacked all the modern conveniences. Water had to be carried in from the well, there was an outside privy, and wood had to be carried in for the stoves in each room. There was no electricity, so oil lamps had to be filled and trimmed each morning. Insulation was insufficient, so it was always drafty in the winter.

There was a glassed-in porch in front, two storage buildings opposite the kitchen door, a sauna at the bottom of a little hill, and the barns and the home of the renter of the parsonage lands, which were 13-1/2 hectares in size. We had a vegetable garden behind the house, and a lot of trees, including a lilac arbor. There were benches under the trees.

That very summer of 1930 my mother did not feel well, so I went with her to the doctor in Kakisalmi. He referred her to Helsinki for further tests. The grim diagnosis was chronic myeloid leukemia. My mother remained in the hospital for a month, while my father returned to take up his responsibilities. Thereafter at periodic intervals she would go to Viipuri for radiation therapy. At that time it was the only known treatment. In the summer she would take sunbaths, which seemed to greatly help her enlarged spleen. I would sunbathe with her.

In spite of her illness, we lived a fairly normal life. She would drive us by horse and buggy to the lake, which was two kilometers away, near the church, where we would swim. At this same lake lived our closest friends, the Koskelas. It was an idyllic spot to live. We often visited them.

My parents also socialized with the cream of Hiitola, which consisted of the senior pastor, Jarnefelt, and his wife, who also came from a prominent Finnish family, Neovius; the doctors, the veterinarian, the pharmacist, a wealthy merchant and her husband, a former station master. Except for the pastor and his wife, none of the above were especially interested in the church.

On another level we also socialized with school teachers and well-to-do farmers. My father was a friend to everybody, rich and poor alike. There were two families that belonged to the landed gentry, who owned large parcels of land and lived in style in large homes. They were a bit above us socially, although I spent some time with the daughter of one, Leah Brotherus. They both had Swedish as their mother tongue, although Hiitola was a purely Finnish community.

My mother was very homesick for her own mother and brothers in far-away America, She would stand at the window and hum a tune,"Kun hijaisin hetkin, yksin ma jaan, etc." My Uncle Isaac and Aunt Ida visited us one summer from Hancock. When they said good-bye, my mother knew she would never see them again. The women of the congregation would come to her at times with their problems and receive counseling. Life for my mother was more constricted than in Joensuu.

Each summer church festivals were held with visiting clergy. Here again a class distinction would be noted. At meal time, while the people ate a picnic style meal, the clergy and their families would go to the senior pastor's parsonage to have their meal there.

My father did not have an ear for music, and unfortunately for him in the Lutheran Church the liturgy is sung. So each Sunday morning my mother would practice again with him, hoping he would retain the tune for the next two hours.

In church there was the women's side and the men's side. On special Sundays when the church was very full we would sit in front in the pastor's family's pew. My father would make his parish visits by horse and buggy. On Sunday afternoons he would visit the far away reaches of the parish to hold devotions in homes. Invariably on Monday he would be sick to the stomach because of all the sweets he had eaten. He would have preferred plain bread and milk, but that was not fancy enough for a minister.

School in Viipuri

The only schools in Hiitola were the folk schools (kansakoulut), where my sister started her schooling. It was necessary for my brother and me to attend school elsewhere. Viipuri was a large city about an hour's train ride from Hiitola. After a year in Viipuri, my brother transferred to Kakisalmi, and I remained in Viipuri, where I graduated in 1933.

I had changed schools so often and gained and lost so many friends, I was afraid to make new ones here. I did however and one of them is still my friend. Her name is Terttu Huhtamo.

By this time school work was no more difficult for me than it was for my classmates, who were all girls except for two boys, one of whom was Tuure Liski, the future father of a well known Finnish playwright. English was one of the subjects taught at this level. I attended only one session a week and when I did come to class, the teacher had me do the teaching.

There was always rivalry between the Finnish and Swedish schools in the city. Somehow the Finnish students felt an inferiority to the Swedish ones. In the early evenings it was customary for the high school students to walk back and forth on the down town streets. The Finnish students were on one side of the street and the Swedes on the other.

There was nothing remarkable about my three years in Viipuri. I spent all my holidays and summer vacations at home in Hiitola. I'm surprised now that I never invited even Terttu to visit me in Hiitola. Summers were lovely there. We never traveled anywhere, because we plain could not afford it. I could not even go to the wedding of my cousin Irja in Tartto, Estonia.

At the end of my senior year in the spring came the time for the matriculation exams, which lasted all week. The tests were the same for all in Finland and were also graded in Helsinki. I took the English exam in addition to German. My teacher had never even heard of the colloquialisms I used in the translations. She was furious with her star pupil and gave me a barely passing grade. Fortunately the people in Helsinki were more knowledgeable and gave me laudatur, the highest grade possible.

My mother came to my graduation ceremonies. When we returned to Hiitola, we were met by Mrs. Impi Koskela with a decorated horse and carriage. At the parsonage door a group of friends had assembled and greeted me with song. Inside, the table was laden with all kinds of goodies. How happy I was.

It was now time to begin my studies at the University of Helsinki. I still wanted to study medicine, but also thought of becoming a dentist, in case I was not accepted into medical school. When one of my uncles, himself a physician, heard about it, he wrote to my father telling him he should not allow me to study medicine, taking the place of a deserving young man in medical school, because I would marry and never practice medicine. My father was furious with his brother.

The only other incidence of discrimination regarding my decision to study medicine came from my Finnish teacher. During our final school year, we discussed our future plans. When I told of mine, the teacher ridiculed me and said I would never make it. However, decades later I met him again in Hancock, Michigan where he had come with a group of other Finns. When he saw me, he said he was so proud of me, because I was the only one of his students who was a physician. What irony.

Medical School in Helsinki

I started my premed studies at the University of Helsinki in the fall of 1933 and they lasted two years. I had to pass a foreign language test, called "pro exercitio." The professor was Laurila. When he found out about my father, he became very excited. I think they had been classmates. He said my father was the best Latin scholar he had ever known.

Maybe at this point I should tell a little more about my parents. My father was a humble, unassuming man. His favorite hobby was reading. He read original texts in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. He was very impractical. He loved talking to people and asking questions. In a short time he knew everything about them. Once he settled in Hiitola, I don't think he ever applied for another position. He also trusted people. It was the great Depression and farmers were losing their farms. They would come to our parsonage to get my father to co-sign for loans. My mother like a hawk would call my father out of his study at a crucial moment and warn him against signing.

My mother was a petite, black haired and dark eyed person. She lived ahead of her time. She should have been a career woman (she was so happy teaching in Joensuu). Instead she had to get her satisfaction in life through my father and he could not deliver what she needed. The combination of loneliness away from her mother and brothers, her own illness and the frustration of being a poor pastor's wife made her depressed and unhappy at times, although we had good times too. It also caused some friction between my parents. She wanted him to do more than he was capable of doing. She was very practical and had many talents.

I marvel that my parents were so supportive of both my brother Kaarlo and me studying medicine. In fact, the senior pastor's wife in Hiitola ridiculed my brother about his lofty ambitions. But the combination of their genes must have resulted in our ambitions from our mother and the love of studying from our father. Both were loving, caring parents, and I will ever be grateful to them.

I had to live a frugal life in Helsinki, because there was not much money. I usually ate breakfast in my room, a bowl of cereal for lunch and then went to the YMCA for a decent dinner. I bought coupons to get a discount. My mother regularly sent a box of food from home to supplement my meals.

My classmates would go to theaters and the opera. I would say, "I don't care to go," when in fact I could not afford it. I was too proud to admit that though. Otherwise, I enjoyed student life and socialized at the student fraternity, Viipurin Osakunta.

I was accepted into the Medical Faculty of the University of Helsinki on September 17, 1935, to start my medical studies. My mother had the satisfaction of knowing this before she died. She never did relish the idea of my becoming a dentist. She thought it would be too boring to look into people's mouths all day long. She knew I needed more stimulation.

Only twenty pre-med students out of over a hundred were accepted into medical school, because it was thought there were too many physicians in the country. It was called "numerus clausus." Those starting their premed studies before the fall of 1933 were accepted into medical school on completion of their examinations, so in fact we had many more than the twenty in our class. I was number sixteen among the twenty.

Just before exam time at the end of the first semester in medical school, I received an urgent message to come home immediately. My mother was failing and she wanted me at home. Indeed my mother was very ill and bedridden. She had taken morphine for her pain, but refused further doses, because she said she wanted a clear mind. The deaconess had given her personal care, but she was too rough, so she wanted me to help her.

On Christmas Eve we carried her into the living room for a final Christmas celebration together. Her last gift to me was a large linen cloth that she wanted made into a tablecloth with fancy appliqué work. She was not able to arrange for it herself anymore. I never had it finished.

She made the arrangements for her own funeral, even going so far as to tell me what each of us children should wear. My father gave her final communion with us standing around her bed. The pain finally was too severe, so she wanted morphine. She lost consciousness. My father had to preach the next morning in church, so I sat all night with my mother while he tried to sleep on the couch in the next room. I believe my brother and sister slept in another bedroom.

She constantly wanted to be lifted ever higher and higher on her pillows. I saw the end was coming so I woke my father and together we witnessed her death. She died in the early morning of Sunday, December 29, 1935, at the age of 49 years. She had so been looking forward to celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary, but it was not to be.

Our entire family was so devastated by sorrow that we had to huddle together in the same bed until my father had to go to church. The Memorial Service was held in the Hiitola Church and she was laid to rest in the Hiitola cemetery on January, 5, 1936.

For my Finnish family members I want to insert excerpts from the obituary my Uncle John wrote for his sister:

"Kuolema saapui vasyneelle, Jumalan lepoa odottavalle matkamiehelle sunnuntai-aamun valjetessa. Se saapui hiljaa ja rauhallisena kuin sen pyha-aamun tulo, joka oli hanen lahtemisensa hetki. Oli ikaankuin joulukellojen kaiku olisi viela kumissut korvissa.

"Pyhaaamun rauha Hiljaa huokuilee, Haly mainen loppuu.Taisto raukenee Kuule, juhlakellot Kaukaa huminoi, Temppelihin Herran kutsu siella soi."

I returned to Helsinki to continue my studies, but it felt as though the bottom had fallen out of my life. I was so scared someone else would die and I would be left all alone. I was desperate to have people around me at all times.

Before her death, I believe in the fall of 1935, my mother had seen a dream in which there were five coffins. She said it predicted five deaths and sure enough within a short period of time there were five deaths in the family. First my uncle Alarik died, then my cousin Maili, then my mother, followed by the deaths of my uncle Isaac in Hancock and lastly my grandmother.

During the year following my mother's death there were other setbacks in our family. Our only horse died. That was a great financial loss for my father. Then both Kaarlo and Edith became ill with scarlet fever. Kaarlo developed pleurisy and I became ill with erythema nodosum.

Before my uncle Isaac's death we had received a letter from him and aunt Ida offering to have Edith live with them. We held a family conclave and none of us wanted to be separated. In fact, my father said he would never give up his daughter.

Life went on although it would never be the same without our mother. I had numerous roommates in Helsinki and lived in several different homes. By this time Kaarlo had graduated from Kakisalmen Yhteiskoulu and Edith was attending school there too. Kaarlo and I shared an alcove room at the home of Mrs. Sofia Lagus. Earlier I had lived in the home of her son, Dr. Reino Lagus and his wife Dr. Tanja Lagus. They had four children, of whom the eldest, Meri, was my classmate, although I was closer to Heidi.

Times were uncertain. World War II was raging in Europe. President Kyosti Kallio had resigned from the presidency of Finland because of ill health. At the railway station he collapsed in the arms of Field Marshal Mannerheim and died. I went to the railway station when his body was being taken to his home in the country for burial.

It was now the summer and fall of 1939 and rumors of war were becoming ever more menacing. Since I have written an entire book about these times, Survival From Hopelessness, I will refer my readers to it. The book covers the period from 1939 until 1946, when I returned to the United States. I will pick up the narration of my life's story after my return to America.

Before I do that, I wish to include the poem my aunt Eva wrote.

"Evelynille: Tulit lintunen lannesta lentaen, Kera taaton ja emosi armaan. Emo pesan laati lampiman, herttaisen. Siina hyva oli olla poikasten, Ja kaki Teille kauniisti kukkui.

"Mutta ei kevat kesta, ei ilot maan. Pian tuomi emon vei, Tuli halla, myrsky ja tuulispaa. Sota, vaino, jyske ja viimainen saa. Pesa oksalla pysynyt ei. Putos maaahan, mutt' rakettiin uudelleen, Vei vieras silta oksan toistamiseen. Lensi poikaset muille teilleen.

"Sina lintunen pieni ja hentoinen Levahdit luonani joskus hetkisen. Otit paikan sopessa sydamein. Livertelit sirkkunen pojilleni ja rakkaaksi tulit myos heille.

"Nyt lennat taas lanteen yli ulappain, Jonne meidan siipemme kanna ei lain. Vain aatokset seuraavat siunaten ain. Ja onnea toivoen teilles."

My Aunt Eva was a dentist married to my father's youngest brother, Odo, a physician. He had died very young, leaving her with two small sons, Martti and Anssi. I often visited her and she was my confidante during my university days. She really understood young people.

Others who had me in their homes for meals were my aunt Sally and her husband. She was my father's youngest sister. They had two children, Olavi and Irma. Their table conversations were lively. Uncle John would draw out the young people, and ask for their opinions on various subjects. It was a real learning experience.

The third home where I was always welcome was that of my mother's cousin, Emil Wikstrom and his wife Elli. They had had two children, too, but both had died young. They lived in Lauttasaari before there was a bridge, so one had to go by ferry. They were caretakers of the summer home of Tallberg Co. where Emil worked. They lived in a small two room house on the property. The surroundings were pure paradise, on the seashore, with many flowers. One winter day Emil took me ice sailing. I lay flat on my stomach as we sped on the ice. It was exhilarating.

When I was working in the lab and standing all day, I developed severe leg pains. I called my uncle, Dr. Sigurd Hartman, and he diagnosed the problem and told me to buy arch supports for my shoes. That solved the problem.

After the war I became very close to my uncle Alarik's widow, Celia, who had moved to Helsinki. She was a beautiful, cultured lady. She was especially pleased with me because I always spoke Swedish with her.

My brother, Kaarlo had married Airi during the war and now lived with her parents, so that was another home I visited frequently. They also visited me often at my home in Malmi, where I had a practice during my final year in Finland. My sister Edith lived with me. Airi primarily took care of our small joint potato patch.

A classmate of mine had earlier introduced me to her brother, Dr. Erkki Leppo, who arranged for me to work in the county well-child clinics and also to serve as physician in a preschool operated by American nuns. More about him later. Even a Russian diplomat's daughter was enrolled in the school.

My father had remarried after ten years of widowhood, so it was easier to leave him behind. In spite of their age difference, I think it was a happy marriage. Martta-Leena had her own career but was extremely proud to be a minister's wife (ruustinna). She related well to the parishioners, who were now evacuees living in western Finland.

CHAPTER III

BACK TO AMERICA

It was time to say good-bye to my father, brother and friends and leave Finland behind, a country where I had experienced so much and for which I had deep feelings, to embark on a new life in unknown territory. It took courage, even though Edith and I would be living with my uncle John, who sponsored us. How much more courage was required of the early immigrants, who started with nothing in a new country, not knowing the language.

Edith and I returned to the United States on a Moore and McCormack freighter. The passengers consisted of nine men in one stateroom and my sister, another woman and I in another. One of the passengers was Oiva Kari, who later married Edith.

One night we encountered very rough weather. The captain could not leave the bridge, so he offered his midship cabin to us women. Our cabin was aft and there we could easily become seasick.

One day we received an emergency call from another ship, where a sailor was experiencing severe abdominal pain, perhaps from an inflamed appendix. Plans were being made for me to be lowered to a small boat and transported in the rough waters to the other ship to do an appendectomy. I had done my one and only appendectomy as a medical student under supervision, so naturally I was very apprehensive. Fortunately my services were not needed.

I treated two sailors on our ship. The first had diarrhea and vomiting. When he was recovering, I prescribed toast, soft boiled egg and hot tea as his first food. It was evening and the purser told me it would require overtime for the cook to prepare them and that they could not do it. This was the law of the Labor Union. I was so disgusted I said I would do it myself if he took me into the galley. I guess the purser finally prepared them himself. In another sailor I diagnosed a venereal disease, gonorrhea. We were fortunately approaching our destination of Baltimore, so I did not have to treat him.

The crew of the freighter were very generous to us passengers. We received different fruits to eat, and we women received perfumes, perhaps intended for their wives or girlfriends. One man who owned a restaurant in New York even offered me a job in case I didn't find work as a physician.

Edith and I had been allowed to take only $100 each out of Finland. That was not sufficient for train tickets to Hancock, which was our destination. I had to send a telegram to Uncle John asking for money. We also did not have sufficient funds for a hotel room in Baltimore. Fortunately the Captain let us stay on the ship until the money arrived, so we had free board and room.

There was a Finnish-American officer on board who was very helpful to us in making travel arrangements. He also wanted to show us the sights in Baltimore and took us to a fancy restaurant. It was a hot August evening, so the men were in shirt sleeves. The restaurant demanded that men wear suit coats. In a split second we three women took off our jackets and gave them to the men. We were allowed in, even though the men could not get their arms into our jackets. We howled with laughter.

Our reception in Hancock was joyous. We first met Aunt Ida, who boarded the train at an earlier station. Her son Arno, a dentist, had driven her there and then drove beside the train the rest of the way.

The welcome party was held at the home of my cousin, Raymond and his wife Kaarina. Others present were their children and Uncle John and Aunt Marie. We had arrived in the United States on August 19, 1946. The remainder of August we stayed at Uncle John's cottage before driving to Minneapolis, which was now to be our home. It was not easy for Aunt Marie to have us in their home. She told us about how her parents had taken in lady relatives from Sweden and they had never seemed to appreciate it.

It was now time to prepare myself for my future. Where to begin? First I needed to get my medical license to practice medicine. In November I appeared before the Board of Medical Examiners. I must have been the only physician ever to appear before the Board in the company of her uncle. It didn't hurt, because Uncle John was a very distinguished looking gentleman.

In order to qualify for the exams, I had to have a year of internship or residency in an approved hospital. Dr. Adson, a well known neurosurgeon at the Mayo Clinic, asked me if I had thought of specializing in a medical field. I replied, "Yes, in Pediatrics." He told me to apply for a fellowship at the Mayo Clinic. Never in my wildest dreams had I ever thought of reaching this high. But I seemed to be led by a Higher Power throughout my medical career, as I will show later.

Soon after, I made a visit to the Mayo Clinic and met with Dr. Roger Kennedy and other members of the staff of the Pediatric Department. I was given no promise of a fellowship, because male fellows were returning from military service to continue their studies.

So now the waiting began. Edith had found a job at Munsingwear, a factory that made underwear. Christmas was approaching and I needed some money. I went to the Augsburg Publishing Company Bookstore to see if they needed extra salespersons at this time of the year.

I was ushered in to see the CEO of the company. He said that I should work in my own field. He was President of the Board of Fairview Hospital and arranged for me to work as a resident at the Hospital. The Medical Director said I could only be an intern there. He was told my title could be anything, but I must be paid the salary of a resident. Again, Divine Intervention.

I was invited to a Christmas party for the staff at a private club. I still remember the huge slice of ham on my plate. I could not finish it. I thought of the thousands of people in Finland and elsewhere in the world who were hungry and I felt very guilty.

Christmas was not easy for me. I was desperately lonely for my father and Finland. I was also troubled over the uncertainty of my future. Then on the first Friday in January, 1947 I received a telegram from the Mayo Clinic to report there on Monday.

Mayo Clinic

The first week I stayed at the Women's Club until I found lodging in the home of the postmaster of Rochester. Later I found a small, cozy apartment on the third floor of a house near a park. It had a large living room, a bedroom, small kitchen and bathroom.

There were several women pediatric fellows, but somehow I never got close to them. Instead, my friends included women teachers, a college librarian, and a couple of Finnish couples. The male fellows were just about all married, so they lived in a different social structure from mine.

I received dozens of invitations to give talks on Finland to various groups, including AAUW. I was even invited to become an honorary member of the Rochester AAUW. Finally Dr. Roger Kennedy, head of the pediatric department, said I should curtail some of it.

I didn't own a car as most Americans did, but fortunately Rochester was a fairly small city, so I was able to walk everywhere. I was used to walking in Finland.

Periodically, almost the entire pediatric department drove to Minneapolis for meetings of the Northwestern Pediatric Society. I always drove with Dr. Kennedy. He, as a Catholic, could not eat meat on Fridays, when the meetings were held. He always said he wished he were a Scandinavian on that day, because he hated fish.

At first it was difficult to adjust to American medical terminology. Illnesses were identified by the names of the person who had identified them. In Finland we had used descriptive names. Also, in Rochester differential diagnoses were very important.

The most exhausting part of the fellowship was the hospital portion, where we were on first call twenty-four hours and stayed at the hospital. Then we were on second call the next twenty-four hours while sleeping at home. Finally, the last twenty-four hours we were free, except for the usual daily lectures. The usual length of the hospital assignment was six months, but Dr. Kennedy had me serve three months at a time with other assignments in between because, as he said, "You can't whip a tired horse." I was not in very good physical shape after my wartime deprivations.

Dr. Benjamin Spock was on the staff and once a week we would meet in the evening at his home to discuss child development. At first the pediatric nurses would meet with us, but the clicking of their knitting needles so irritated the male fellows, they did not want them there anymore.

Dr. Spock always advocated common sense in child rearing. A teenager needs discipline. It gives him security, just as a bridge seems safe when it has side railings on it. Dr. Spock seemed like a devoted father and husband. He would carry his young sons off to bed when we were at his house. He had not become involved in politics or demonstrations in Rochester. That came later. He was unconventional though. He had a tall lanky build and he looked funny when he was riding his bicycle. I remember more of his teachings than I do of others at the clinic.

People in America seemed rather superficial to me. They were so overly cordial when first meeting you. I didn't believe it was sincere. To prove my point, I was greeted once at an AAUW meeting by the two hostesses with great friendliness. They asked all kinds of questions about me, which I answered. About half an hour later the same hostesses greeted me again. They asked the same questions. They had completely forgotten me. In later years I changed my opinion. One can be friendly at the first meeting and build a real friendship as you get to know the person. The Finnish people are more prone to act suspicious at first and become friendly as they get to know you.

I spent two and a half years in Rochester and in between, six months in Minneapolis at the University of Minnesota doing my pediatric pathology, which meant doing autopsies on children who had died. Once I was called to perform an autopsy on Easter Sunday just as I was in the middle of a dinner at the home of my friend Lorraine Bergstrand and her mother. I also attended lectures in the pediatric department.

In the meantime my brother Kaarlo had received a Rockefeller Foundation scholarship to the University of Chicago. Airi and the two children, Anja and Jaakko, came to spend some time with me. When I met them at the train station, Airi was carrying eight-month-old Jaakko and Anja was standing on the train platform next to a black porter. She seemed completely bewildered. I called out, "Anja kulta." Immediately she jumped and flew into my arms and heart. Jaakko suffered from jet lag and he missed his dad. He cried a great deal, so much so that I went to spend the nights at a friend's home.

Once we visited some friends of mine, the Johnsons, who had a spoiled little dog. The dog was yapping and barking at Anja and she was terrified as Mrs. Johnson kept repeating, "She won't hurt you." I swept Anja up into my arms.

During the two years Kaarlo was in America, the children had grown and when they visited me they enjoyed running down the grassy slope in the park behind my house and scampering like calves let out to pasture.

They spent a Christmas with me; I believe it was my last one there. I took Anja to the children's party at the hospital. Dr. Kennedy was Santa Claus and he kept saying "skol" to Anja when he gave her a present. He thought it was a Finnish word, the only one he knew.

Emotionally I was still traumatized by my wartime experiences and could not plan for my future beyond the three years I was spending at the Mayo Clinic. Then suddenly it dawned on me in my third year that I had to do something. I didn't have the capital to start my own practice. One of the fellows told me about Cincinnati and whom to contact there, which I did. I was offered work with the Visiting Nurse Association to serve as physician in the well child clinics and as a physician in the public schools.

Cincinnati

I was a complete stranger to the city, but one of the older nurses took me in hand and we often drove to Kentucky to see the sights. We also attended symphony concerts together. I also became acquainted with a Finnish couple who had a swimming pool, which I enjoyed using.

I wanted to become associated with a Lutheran Church, so I visited a large downtown church. But it was so forbidding and cold I never went there again. Then I visited a suburban church, which was very family-friendly. The pastor, when he greeted me, asked some questions and told me to wait and he would introduce me to a Swedish family formerly from Minneapolis. This became my church home and the Lindbergs my best friends. I often visited them and had dinner with them.

I also became acquainted with Dr. Sabin, the discoverer of the oral polio vaccine. He was associated with the Cincinnati Children's Hospital and did his work there. I too attended lectures at this hospital and became very well acquainted with a colleague of his. She even offered to teach me to drive and to use her car. I never did.

During the eight months I was in Cincinnati, I had finally earned enough money so I could think about buying myself a new car. Besides, the automatic shift had just been installed in the Chevrolet cars. The brother of the nursing director owned a Chevrolet dealership. I told them I would purchase a car if they taught me how to drive first. For two weeks the salesman and I went to the country for driving lessons and I passed the driver's test and bought the car.

I was also studying for my Master of Science degree in Pediatrics. I was able to take the written exam at the office of a former Mayo Alumnus. I had to fly to Minneapolis to take the oral portion. I had flown once in Finland in a small plane on a beautiful sunny day from Helsinki to an island off the coast of Finland to visit some friends. It was a wonderful experience so I had no qualms about flying to Minneapolis.

Over Lake Michigan we encountered a thunderstorm and the plane suddenly dropped. It was a frightening moment. All the dishes flew and the attendant began screaming. A short time later the same type of plane encountered the same thing in the same place and dropped into the lake, killing all on board. Since then I have been very apprehensive about flying. I took the train back to Cincinnati.

I passed the grueling exam before a panel of some twelve professors, and took part later in the graduation ceremonies at the University of Minnesota in my robe and doctor's hood. It was a proud moment.

The thesis for my degree, "Illness in the first trimester of pregnancy and its significance in relation to congenital anomalies in the offspring," had been accepted for publication in the Journal of Pediatrics, March, 1951. Earlier I had a paper published together with Dr. DuShane on a case report of Progeria in one of my patients. This is a condition of premature aging. The young boy had the looks and characteristics of an old man. There is no cure for it. I wonder if modern day genetic manipulation could help these patients. These were the beginnings of my many publications in professional journals.

Many of our patients in Cincinnati were black and I had to take the bus to the clinics in the housing developments, starting from downtown. Gradually I was the only white person left on the bus and then I had to walk through the black neighborhood to the clinic. The patients themselves were friendly, but on the street the young boys were not.

I had a patient from Georgia whom I could not understand at all, and she could not understand my Yankee English. The public health nurse had to translate for us.

While in Minneapolis I had contacted the Director of the State Health Department for possible work. He referred me to the Health Commissioner in the Minneapolis Health Department. At the end of the summer I received a telegram offering me a job. So in September, 1951, I joined the Minneapolis Health Department as a Maternal and Child Health Physician, working under the Nursing Director. It was not a very satisfactory set-up for me. I worked primarily in the well child clinics.

Minneapolis

During this time my father came to the United States to visit my sister and me and his former congregations, as well as Hancock. My town house was not yet finished, so we all lived with my sister in her apartment. Later my father lived with me. His visit lasted five months.

In December, 1952, I made my first visit to Finland since leaving the country six years earlier, to spend Christmas with my brother and his family and my father. I went there by plane, but came back by ship. I got into the worst storm ever, when even the dikes in Holland broke. Our ship rocked forward and backward, sideways, and then dropped down. On the worst day, we had our dinner late and I sat under the table holding on to the legs of the table, which were anchored. The next morning I could not get up from bed and was feeling very sorry for myself. The stewardess told me everyone else was sick too. I ate my breakfast in bed. Years later I was on a ship with the same captain and he said it was the worst storm in the North Sea he had ever been in. We arrived in New York a few days late. The date was February 11, 1953.

Minnesota State Health Department

Prior to my trip, the State Health Department had offered me a job as Pediatric Consultant, which I had accepted. I worked with a nursing consultant. My job involved a lot of travel around the state, working with medical societies and hospitals. Often I was called out in emergency situations, like the time there was an outbreak of infection in a newborn nursery. A couple of babies had died. The charge nurse did not have the authority to transfer the remaining infants out of the nursery without the permission of a physician and he was nowhere to be found. Fortunately, the remaining infants survived. The standing medical orders were of course revised.

I conducted workshops for school nurses and at this time was invited to become lecturer in the School of Public Health. I was sent to New York with the nursing consultant to take a course at Cornell University in the care of the premature infant. It was a wonderful two weeks. In our spare time we visited art museums, theaters, restaurants and other places of interest with the other physicians.

I had the opportunity to accompany a public health nurse on her visits to Harlem. She said her uniform protected her. The first home we visited was in a high rise building. It was fairly new, as was the furniture in the home. However, things were beginning to look seedy from lack of care. The other home was in an old building where the toilet had to be shared by several households. Yet this young black mother of an infant kept her home immaculate.

The first year with the State Health Department was interesting and challenging. However, I began losing my friends when I was away from home so much. While on the road, I did my consulting during the day and spent the evenings alone in the motel room. It became quite a lonely time. Besides, sometimes it was quite dangerous on the roads during the winter.

At the end of my second year with the State Health Department, I was approached by the Commissioner of Health in the Minneapolis Health Department to return to Minneapolis. I told him I could not return to the former set-up. He told me I would have my own department of Maternal and Child Health, of which I would be the director with a raise in salary. This suited me fine, so in early 1955 I returned to the City. Again Divine intervention.

Minneapolis Health Department

Up to this time, the Health Department was housed in a small old building and the administrative offices, the laboratory, and some other departments in the City Court House. I had my office and a clinic in the small building, with other clinics in settlement houses and churches around the city.

A new Public Health Center was being built soon after I returned to the Health Department, at the site of the old small building. In the meantime my department was housed elsewhere. The new Health Center was a modern five story state of the art building. The Health Department occupied floors two, four and five. My clinic was on the first floor with a chest clinic on the other side of the large entrance area. The City Welfare Department occupied the third floor, and in the basement there was a large cafeteria.

In the spring of 1955, after the discovery of Salk polio vaccine, the Health Department put on a massive immunization program, in which I had the responsibility for the clinical end. The entire Health Department staff was involved in the program one way or another. All the doctors and nurses worked in the clinics.

The vaccine was given by injection to 50,000 children around the city. We had to recruit the police department to handle traffic and help us clean the syringes. We did not have disposables then. I remember a rather rotund policemen with pudgy fingers handling the syringes and needles before they were autoclaved. I wish I had taken a picture of him. Later I would see him as he was directing traffic downtown. He would stop and talk to me.

Polio was a devastating illness. It caused many deaths and disability. People with breathing difficulties had to be placed in so-called iron lungs. The disease appeared in epidemic proportions also in Minneapolis. The Kenny Institute was started by Sister Kenny from Australia. She used hot wet packs on the afflicted limbs. I met her once. She was a large woman. Her handshake was soft and flabby. She had a hard time convincing physicians to accept her treatment. It was a blessing when the polio vaccine was discovered. Dr. Sabin, whom I mentioned earlier, discovered the oral vaccine and Dr. Jonas Salk the killed-virus vaccine, which was given by injection. I myself took both kinds of vaccine.

I want to backtrack a bit and talk about other things related to my life. Edith and Oiva Kari were married in July 1953, without telling anybody. I was very hurt, but it was Oiva's decision.

Kaarlo visited us in September and Edith had not yet joined her husband in Kalamazoo, Michigan, so I held a combination shower and reception for Edith, while Kaarlo was still here. About two dozen guests came.

In 1954, Professor Lennart Pinomaa from the University of Helsinki spent some time as visiting professor at Luther Seminary in St. Paul. He became ill and wanted a Finnish doctor to see him, so I visited him in his dormitory room.

A group of us girls, including my friend, Lorraine Bergstrand, formed a "culture club." We attended operas together as well as other cultural events. I served them a Finnish dinner once. Otherwise, too, I did a great deal of entertaining and had many visitors from Finland and other countries.

In December, 1950, I attended a White House conference on children and youth in Washington, D. C. President Truman gave a talk to the huge assembly. I don't remember the content of his speech, except he lambasted the Congress. He also was very angry at the press for their poor reviews of the concert his daughter Margaret had given the evening before.

Since Finland's independence day was being celebrated while I was in Washington, I called the Finnish embassy to see if they were having a reception for the local Finns. They had already had it, but I received a formal written invitation to the reception for the diplomats. Of course I went, but felt like a fish out of water. However, during a lull the ambassador's wife came over to talk to me. It turned out that before she came to Washington to join her husband, I had treated their housekeeper, while I lived in Malmi.

Immediately she invited me to lunch the next day. The embassy car picked me up at my hotel and with the Finnish flags fluttering in front, I rode in style. The other guests were the Consul General and his wife from New York. It was a very pleasant experience. The food was real Finnish and the conversation, of course, was in Finnish.

I was a member of Uncle John's former church, Morgan Avenue Lutheran Church in Minneapolis. I also belonged to the Women's Aid Society. Already then I felt it was a couple's world. There were only two of us who were not married. The other lady was a professional woman too. Yet all the married women were addressed as "Mrs." regardless of their age and we two single woman were addressed by our first names without giving me the title of doctor.

Then something happened that changed my entire life. It happened of all places at the polio clinic the end of May 1955. I was sitting with my coffee cup, taking a short break with a public health nurse. One of the Health Department male physicians joined us and, when the nurse left, the physician, a widower, invited me out to dinner the next day.

I accepted the invitation, but said I had a meeting later, which I had to attend. This was to be the pattern of my life, busy, busy. During the dinner we shared our experiences. I knew practically nothing about him. He told me about his three sons, who lived at home. Only at a later date did he tell me about his older son and daughter, who were both married. Perhaps he didn't want to scare me off right away.

CHAPTER IV

COMBINING MARRIAGE AND CAREER

Marriage to Wilford E. Park, M. D. 1955 - 1985

During the summer we became better acquainted and I met his sons, too. Our friendship developed into plans for marriage. He had told me about his health problems, too, and there was the possibility that the marriage would not last very long because of it. I pondered over the situation and decided to take a chance.

Previously, he had made plans for his daughter, Betty, her husband, Murray, and their three-year-old daughter, Linda to live with him the next winter. Betty would keep house for the family while Murray attended the university, working on his Ph.D. degree. I was naive enough to accept the situation. After all, we would need household help. I had no intention of giving up my job.

We were married on September 23, 1955, at my church, Morgan Avenue Lutheran Church in Minneapolis. My cousin Raymond Wargelin officiated; Uncle John Wargelin escorted me to the altar, where my sister, Edith and Wilford's oldest son, Douglas were to be the witnesses. My Aunt Marie was the organist and my cousin Sylvia sang. The ushers were two of Wilford's friends: Clifford Hansen, who with his wife Lumetta were always kind and gracious to me, and Lawrence Hurr, who also treated me fairly. His wife Caroline, on the other hand, and his two adult sons were openly hostile toward me. She as much as said that Wilford should not have remarried.

Our wedding dinner was at the University Women's Club for family and closest friends. The program was filled with music and song. We drove to Kentucky to a resort for our honeymoon in Wilford's new Chrysler.

During our absence Murray and our boys had put the storm windows on the house. It was a thoughtful gesture, but unfortunately they had failed to wash the windows first, so that winter we had dirty windows.

When we returned we settled into our daily routine. I was happy in my work and more than happy with my new husband. Each Sunday afternoon we would take off and do some interesting thing, just the two of us.

Things did not go very well at home though. Our household consisted of Wilford and me, our three sons, and Betty, Murray and Linda Nielsen. The house was large enough to accommodate all of us, with the Nielsens occupying the third floor. I had brought my few pieces of furniture, but I never felt that house was my home. I felt overwhelmed, and a stranger in the family. I felt hostility, and of course, I was different from them.

Perhaps Wilford did marry too soon after the death of my predecessor. I had never seen her. Maybe the boys were still grieving and had no opportunity to express that grief. The two older boys were teenagers, which in itself is a difficult time. I felt the oldest of the three blamed me for his troubles.

The middle son has a very high IQ, which has shaped his life. He often held sway at the dinner table and while he never lost his cool, he could irritate the others with his ideas. He still has the nicest smile.

I felt closest to the youngest son, Warren and we've had a very good relationship through the years. Wilford and I always stood together and were there when he needed us.

Because of the difficulty adjusting to a large family as a stepmother, I wanted to get counseling from the Family and Children's Service, but Wilford did not want it. He was sure we could handle it ourselves. I think such counseling should have involved the entire family and not Wilford and me alone. Perhaps many of the hurts could have been avoided.

Wilford and I, on the other hand, were exceedingly well suited for each other. Our values were the same, we both were perfectionists, we both were very well organized, and we both were very sensitive. I was able to express my feelings, while Wilford, on the other hand, kept his bottled up and suffered physical illness as a result. He was always kind and caring.

Fortunately Wilford's church held a series of meetings on "How to improve your marriage," and from then on he was able to express and communicate his feelings. From then on, too, I don't believe our marriage could have been any better.

Over the years the relationships with the older children have been built up; Betty and Douglas and his wife Ruth and I are the best of friends.

Since we belonged to different churches, Wilford to Hennepin Avenue Methodist and I to Morgan Avenue Lutheran, we would attend each other's churches by turn. However, a rift occurred at Morgan Ave. Church between the local church and the Synod Headquarters, which was in the process of merging with other Lutheran bodies. The local church's pastor opposed it. My cousin Raymond was the president of the Synod. I was in an awkward position. After consultation with my uncle John, I joined Wilford's church and became very active there, serving on various committees. We also were joint president of the Doubles Club, where I still have friends.

Even Wilford recognized that the home situation was not good, so Betty and her family moved into student housing at the University for the next year. Also Douglas and Ruth, who had lived in Minneapolis during the previous year, moved to Colorado.

I recall how when I last visited my father and his new wife in Finland in 1952-53, I had probably done something that was threatening to his wife. After all, I felt this was still my home. My father told me that I was always welcome to their home, but that it was no longer my home. I'm sure Douglas perhaps felt the same way about his father's home and that I had usurped that home.

So now just the five of us were together and we had a succession of housekeepers, as well as Lucinda, my old cleaning lady.

In the fall of 1961, we moved to a house on Edmund Blvd in eastern Minneapolis. Robert had graduated from the University of Minnesota and was enrolled in a doctorate program at the University of Wisconsin in Madison. Now I felt I was in my own home for the first time. I could do things the way I wanted and not be a visitor in someone else's home. We also decided to get along without a housekeeper, just weekly cleaning help.

We had chores assigned to each of us. When Warren was the only son at home after James left, it was his responsibility to wash the dishes. He broke so many, we decided it was cheaper to buy a dishwasher.

Our daily routine was that Wilford and I drove to and from work together. At work we went our separate ways, but often had lunch together. On our drive home we would share our experiences and then forget about them at home.

In 1956, a year after our wedding, I became ill and was bedridden for eight weeks with fever of unknown origin. Test after test, including those sent to Communicable Disease Center in Atlanta, Georgia. were negative. Finally my thyroid gland began to swell. My internist said I had a goiter and needed an operation. I went to the Mayo Clinic for a second opinion and Dr. Keating, a thyroid specialist, diagnosed my condition as Hashimoto's Disease or Chronic Thyroiditis. I was put on thyroid extract and have been taking it ever since. My neck swelling subsided and I have had no further trouble.

We had planned to go to Finland the summer I became ill, so in the summer of 1957 we finally made the trip, and Wilford was able to meet my father and my brother, Kaarlo and his family.

My Father's Death

On June 18, 1957, we sailed to England, where we did a lot of sight seeing and also visited Wilford's classmate from medical school at the University of Toronto. We had a real five o'clock tea, which was a huge meal in itself

After visiting and sightseeing in Copenhagen and Stockholm, where we also visited my cousins, we were on to Helsinki. We attended an International Congress on Occupational Health. On the ship coming over, our tablemate in the dining room was a pompous doctor also going to the Congress. Immediately he began telling about his ancestors, who had arrived in the colonies in 1640. Usually, I am not so quick on the trigger, but this time I replied, "Then my husband's ancestors must have met them at the dock, because they arrived there in 1630." That ended the conversation.

Before the Convention we spent three days in Pori, visiting my father and Martta-Leena. My father met us at the bus depot. He had a very bad cold and, according to my diary, he looked pitifully pale, thin and old. He seemed better by the time we left.

After the Convention we spent another four days with him. Each evening we had devotions and sang a song. We tried to sing songs that had both Finnish and English versions. The one we sang most often was "Abide with me, fast falls the eventide," a beautiful but sad song.

My father and Wilford got along beautifully. Wilford was very impressed with my father's language skills. He would read bible interpretations in the original languages of Hebrew, Greek and Latin. Before the war, in Hiitola he was called to officiate in Swedish at baptisms and weddings in a neighboring town and at least once in German.

It was time to leave. My father had tears in his eyes as he said farewell to us at home. Then we all walked to the bus depot. The last I saw of him was as he and Martta-Leena slowly walked away.

On July 30 just before the farewell dinner on ship, I received a radio telegram from Kaarlo informing me that my Dad had died the previous night of a heart attack. At first I thought I would fly back for the funeral, but he wouldn't be there for me anymore.

As a coincidence the first Sunday we attended church in Minneapolis, the guest preacher had as his sermon theme the song, Abide With Me. I cried throughout the entire sermon.

My father is buried in Pori in a beautiful cemetery. Wilford and I made three more trips to Finland and each time we visited the cemetery. In addition to Finland, we always visited other European countries, including Italy, France, the Scandinavian countries and others. In 1971 we included a Mediterranean Cruise. We always had a terrific time. I kept a diary of all our trips.

CHAPTER V

MY EXPANDING CAREER

The political situation on the national level affected even my career on the local level. In the 1960s President Lyndon Johnson's Great Society was started. Up to this time federal dollars for health were routed and determined by the State Health Department. Their first priority was the rural communities. Hence Minneapolis received very little.

Now it changed. Cities that could show need would get the monies directly. The Minneapolis Health Department statistician and I did a study to determine the areas in the city that were predominately poverty areas and the birth and death rates of infants in those areas. We published our findings in Minnesota Medicine in 1965.

We then applied for and received a federal grant for a Maternity and Infant Care Project. This enabled us to establish maternity clinics in the poor areas. Up to this time the patients had to travel to the General Hospital clinic and often had to wait long periods. As a result, many failed to seek prenatal care.

We worked closely with the director of obstetrics at the hospital, who also provided the physicians for our clinics. We were also able to hire new staff, including nursing consultants, social workers, and a nutritionist, who were able to help the patients with their other needs.

In 1966 we applied for and received a grant to establish another program, a Children and Youth Project. We expanded the role of our well child clinics to include outpatient medical care and paying for hospital treatment of sick children at the General Hospital, as needed.

Again we expanded our staff by hiring an assistant medical director to assist me, a lay assistant, another nutritionist, social workers, a home economics person, nurses, and a fiscal person for all the reports and financial planning that had to be done. By this time my annual budget exceeded one and a half million dollars annually. Pediatric residents from the University and General Hospital served as clinicians.

As a part of the Children and Youth Project we established a dental clinic at the Public Health Center and pioneered in many new preventive procedures, such as coating the teeth to prevent cavities. It was an exciting time. As senior author I published many papers in professional journals regarding our programs and our findings.

We also were participants through our programs with other agencies. We took an active role in providing health care to girls and their infants, who were enrolled in the public schools' pregnant schoolgirl program.

We had the responsibility to inspect children's day care centers for health and safety. The Minnesota State Welfare Department licensed these facilities and we reported our findings to them. We made recommendations regarding them using the standards set by the American Academy of Pediatrics.

Another exciting project we became involved in was the Family Planning Project for which we also received federal funding. Physicians in general are not too keen on providing these services. They are boring and offer no challenges. To overcome this obstacle we started training our own nurse practitioners to work under the direction of physicians. Again Dr. Freeman, Director of Obstetrics at General Hospital, helped us. Together he and a nurse-midwife on his staff trained nurses in our Department. We requested the University of Minnesota to do the training, but they were not ready at that time. Later they did take on a training program. We also used nurse practitioners in our children's and maternity clinics. We had hired a pediatric nurse practitioner.

There was still controversy over a public agency providing family planning services. Abortions were a no-no. We counseled patients wanting an abortion on alternate solutions, but if she was adamant, we referred her elsewhere. We met with all the major religious groups to come to an equitable solution. These included Catholic clergy and the Jewish faith.

As director of Maternal and Child Health, I administered a large program which included children's medical clinics, maternity and family planning clinics, a dental clinic for children, immunization clinics, surveillance of day care centers for preschool children for health and safety factors and the provision of medical direction for the health program and nursing services in the city's approximately 49 parochial schools.

All of these projects were going strong at the time I took early retirement in 1973. Later, of course, President Johnson's Great Society programs were curtailed and cut, and I do believe that the Minneapolis Health Department is mostly back where I started from. Such is life.

Each time I was granted a new project, I received a congratulatory telegram from Minnesota senators like Walter Mondale and the Democratic congressman in my district. Although congressman Quie was a friend of mine, since we had served on the same board of an agency, he didn't even answer a letter I had sent to him.

University of Minnesota Affiliation

I had received appointments as Lecturer in the School of Public Health in 1952 and as Clinical Instructor of Pediatrics, 1952-1967, at which time I was promoted to Clinical Assistant Professor of Pediatrics. I taught child growth and development to junior medical students in a once a week class through a well child clinic at the Medical School.

Sometime in the mid-1950s, the Director of the School of Public Health requested of the Minneapolis Health Department that I be loaned to the School to serve as Interim Professor of Maternal and Child Health for a semester before a permanent replacement was found, and I agreed. Actually, before this, the same director had asked me to get a master's degree in Public Health to apply for the permanent position. I was not that interested in teaching, so I never pursued it.

My students were all physicians from many countries. There were only two from the United States. One physician from Japan carried a chip on his shoulder and was hostile to the United States. The Director of the School told me that if I found reason to fail him, he would fail the entire course.

No one was going to tell me how to grade my students. I found out that the Japanese doctor did not know English well enough to comprehend what went on in class. So I met privately with him after each class to explain what he did not understand. He passed my course. I am sure also that his hostility toward Americans was decreased.

I did not fail him, but I did fail a happy-go-lucky Central American who was everybody's favorite. I also had a student from the National Institutes of Health who turned in a lousy midterm paper. I told him that if he can't do better, I will have to fail him. He resubmitted a very erudite paper. Actually he was my star pupil, so I don't know why he thought he could get by with the first paper.

Membership in Professional Associations

Naturally I belonged to our own Hennepin County Medical Society and was a member of its Public Health Committee. I worked closely with the Society on joint projects, like the polio programs.

I was a member of the State Medical Association and its Child Health Committee. A well-known Minneapolis pediatrician was also a member. He was always telling off-color jokes, until I told him I could not tolerate them in my presence.

I belonged to the Twin Cities and the Northwestern Pediatric Societies. I presented several papers at the latter's meetings. I was a member of the Minnesota Public Health Association as well as the American Public Health Association, of which I was a fellow starting in 1959. I attended most national meetings and presented papers at several, such as New York, Cleveland and elsewhere.

I also was a member of the National Alliance Concerned with School Age Parents, attending the meetings in Chicago. Finally of course, I was a member of the Mayo Alumni Association.

Social Service Organizations

I was on the Board of Directors of several social service organizations. These included the Lutheran Social Services of Minnesota, and the Family and Children's Services, on which several wealthy and prominent people served. Mrs. Pillsbury was one of them. While the rest of us were dressed in business clothes, she would come in a bulky sweater with holes in the elbows. The wife of the President of the University of Minnesota was another member and once she invited us to the president's home.

I was involved in family planning on several levels, such as on the Board of Minneapolis Planned Parenthood and on the Advisory Committee on Family Planning to the Minnesota Board of Health.

Because of my many activities, I was listed in Who's Who of American Women and Who's Who in the Midwest.

Anecdotal Reminiscences

I had several consultants representing different areas of health care. They were all specialists in their own fields and as such tended to be prima donnas. The goal was to get them to work together for the good of the patients. This meant consensus building. Even though the "buck stopped with me," I tried to first get a compromise decision, which in the long run was the best decision. We had weekly meetings to discuss our programs and concerns.

Since we were getting federal funds we had to adhere to federal guidelines too. One such ruling mandated that we have a committee of patients to evaluate the services they were receiving. Somehow a group of activists got on the committee to represent the patients.

They came loaded with a list of grievances. It turned out that we were already providing all they demanded. After a couple of meetings, their interest waned and the Health Department representatives were the only ones coming to the meeting. The committee was disbanded.

Unlike the paparazzi of today (which the media often give attention to), we were never allowed to take any pictures of our patients without the written permission of the parent or guardian. How times have changed.

I was often interviewed by the news media. Once Carl Rowan, who at that time was a reporter for the Minneapolis Star and Tribune, called me in the middle of the night for some information. Later he became a United States representative to the United Nations and still later the U.S. Ambassador to Finland.

We once had a patient who was burdened with a heavy load. Her husband was in prison and she had a difficult time coping. However, she always maintained her dignity and composure. Under the circumstances she did a good job with the children. We had a public health nurse who began probing into her personal life, with the result that the poor mother broke down and sobbed her heart out. The nurse came to me for help. I told her later that she should never break down a patient's wall of protection unless she could build it up again. Of course, she couldn't; she was no psychiatrist or psychologist.

We had a mother who had desperately wanted a little girl. Instead her child was a boy. From the onset she treated her son as a girl. She dressed him in girl's clothes and the child had long curls. After much counseling we were able to persuade the mother to treat the child as a boy, otherwise she would be causing irreparable harm to him.

We had another mother who had only sons. All of their names started with an M. Some of the names I remember were Marvin, Mervin, Merlin, Marlin. They were all born a year apart. When she came in with her seventh son, she was beaming. When she plunked him down on the examining table she triumphantly declared, "This is my last child. I've had a tubal ligation." She probably also ran out of Ms to name the children.

We had a German born mother who spoke with a heavy accent. She seemed to understand English very well though. Her infant child had a skin rash that looked like an allergy to milk. I prescribed a soybean formula for the baby in place of milk. When the mother came in for her next visit with the baby, she proudly declared that as soon as she began to apply the goo to the child's skin the rash disappeared. The nurse and I could hardly contain our smiles. When she saw our smiles, she immediately asked what had she done wrong. We reassured her that she had done nothing wrong, although the formula had been meant to be given internally and not rubbed on the skin.

During my years with the Health Department, I had four different secretaries. The first was a mother hen to her young, inexperienced boss. The next one was a character; she never minced her words. Once she blurted out to the pediatric resident who came to work in our clinics, "You're getting younger all the time. Next they'll be sending us high school students." I told her the residents look younger because she herself was getting older.

Another time I heard a conversation outside of my office. A man with sores on his legs had come in for help. Bertha, the secretary, told him he had to go to the hospital emergency room. Then I heard the following dialogue:

Bertha: "Where do you live?" The man: "Under the bridge." Bertha: "Where did you live before that?" The man: "Leavenworth prison." Bertha: "Why were you there?" The man: "For murder." Bertha: "Aren't you sorry you killed someone? "The man: "No, he had it coming".

I had heard enough. I had Bertha contact the agency that worked with released prisoners and they came and took him to the hospital.

Many of our patients had values different from those of the staff. Constantly we had to remind the staff that they should not try to instill their own values in the patients. Often it was difficult to contain oneself. We were there to provide health care and not to preach about moral values, unless it affected the health of the patient.

My Sister Edith's Death

Sometime in 1968 my brother-in-law Oiva informed us that Edith was hospitalized at University of Michigan Hospitals in Ann Arbor with breast cancer. I went to see her immediately. Her condition was so far gone that only palliative treatment could be given.

She eventually went home to Elkhart, Indiana, where I visited her several times during long weekends. She had surgery at the Elkhart Hospital. Her physician was Dr. Ivie. Oiva didn't want her to know what her condition was. Dr. Ivie said he could not be her physician unless she was told about the diagnosis. It was left to me to tell her, which was not an easy thing to do.

She eventually died at home in her sleep on January 30, 1970. The funeral was held in Hancock, Michigan, where I held the deed to the Hartman family burial plot. Our cousin Raymond officiated. Other relatives who attended were Uncle John and cousin Philip and Kaarina.

Suomi College had notified people in Hancock and so there were about a hundred people at the service in the mortuary. Afterward the College served lunch to the family. Edith now lies next to her older siblings, her infant sister Dagmar and her brother Theodore. In 1989 her husband Oiva died of a massive heart attack while on the ski slopes, so he now lies next to Edith.

Her illness and death were a shock to me, because she was ten years younger than I and I thought she would still be here for me in my old age. The following year I had a biopsy for a tumor in my breast, but fortunately it was benign.

During the summer of 1972, Wilford was hospitalized twice for a total of eight weeks for fever of unknown origin. At least that was what his physician, Dr. Myhre, said. However, I insisted on a second opinion when Dr. Myhre was going to put him on massive doses of penicillin for supposed endocarditis. Dr. Watson, retired head of the Dept. of Internal Medicine at the University, who was consulted, took him off all his drugs and immediately he began to improve. A bad drug reaction to all the drugs he was taking had caused the fever.

He was not feeling very well even after this, so it was time to think of retirement and moving to Arizona to escape the cold winters of Minnesota. By the following winter I would have enough years of employment to qualify for a pension. Wilford had retired from the Minneapolis Health Department in 1966, but was retained by the State Health Department in the same position until his illness.

In January, 1972, before Wilford's illness, we had vacationed in Arizona to look things over. We already knew we did not want to retire in Florida - too humid and hurricane prone, or California - too crowded and earthquake prone.

We finally decided on Prescott, a small town at an elevation of one mile. It had the four seasons, with mild winters and cool summers. We purchased a house that was not completed yet and had some modifications made.

We sold our home in Minneapolis and were ready to leave in early February, 1973. The Health Department had a lovely retirement party for us held at the Women's Club. Many of our associates outside the department attended the party, such as the Executive Director of the Hennepin County Medical Society, a good friend who was on the City Council and who presented each of us with a Certificate of Merit from the City of Minneapolis. We also received valuable gifts.

CHAPTER VI

THE RETIREMENT YEARS

Prescott

Retirement was not easy for me. I had been at the pinnacle of my career. Now I had no purpose to my life and I was a nobody. My acquaintances in Minneapolis and even New York had contacted their agencies in Prescott about me, and so I was invited to serve on their boards, such as Planned Parenthood, and the Easter Seal Society.

I also enrolled at Yavapai College in a German conversation class to brush up on my German. At the end of the semester the president of the College called a meeting of all the adult students to evaluate the programs. I asked him why there were no health courses being taught. He asked me if I would like to start one. Thus began my career as an instructor at the College. I taught courses in physical health, mental and emotional health and even an assertiveness class. I was certified by the State to teach in a college.

In 1983 my teaching career ended, again because of Wilford's health problems. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to cope with the high altitude of Prescott. Just at this time I was asked to participate in an experimental project with another Community College in the Department of Nursing. Unfortunately I had to refuse.

It's amazing what my part-time teaching career did to my status in the community. I was a somebody again. I also resigned from the boards in which I really had no interest.

I think my most permanent accomplishment in Prescott was the establishment of the Community Cupboard, which provided food on an emergency basis to needy individuals and families. This came about as follows: I was a member of the social concerns committee of my church, the United Methodist Church, and we did a survey in the community as to needs. We determined that emergency food distribution was a crying need and one that could be handled by volunteers.

We called a meeting of the Prescott Ministerial Association and Church Women United. Our pastor suggested we have a committee to study the situation. I got up and said we've done enough studies, let's get to work to implement the proposed plan. I was requested to become the chairman to set it up. Members were from the various churches represented. We worked with the Health Department and other agencies. The end result was that Catholic Social Services offered to screen the applicants as to other needs, too, like housing, employment etc.

The program is still going strong today. There are no paid workers, only volunteers. Each church assigns members per month to assemble the boxes of food according to a set formula. Each church also sets aside a Sunday for collection of food. Stores cooperate by donating food, like day-old bread. Even perishable foods are given, because a refrigerator and freezer have been donated to the warehouse, which is housed in donated space.

Zonta International

My association with Zonta International, a service organization of executive women in business and the professions (now men are admitted too) spans the years. I first became a member in Minneapolis and served as president of the club.

When we moved to Prescott I was invited to join the club there. I had lost my classification of course, but with the writing I was doing (articles in professional journals and the later publication of three books), I qualified for a new classification.

I served as president of the Prescott club, too. Then I was elected Lieutenant Governor of District IX and finally Governor of the District for 1980-82. My district was made up of clubs in Arizona, California, Nevada, Utah and Hawaii.

I crisscrossed the district by car and made trips to Hawaii. Wilford accompanied me on all my trips and was almost an associate member. It was a busy time but very enjoyable for both of us.

During my tenure the International Convention was held in San Diego, so I was the hostess governor. Later I served as chairman of the International Membership Committee.

As governor I also served on the International Board, which gave me an opportunity to meet and get to know interesting women from around the world. One notably stands out. She was a judge from the Philippines, who adamantly opposed the Marcos regime. She gave each of us other governors a beautiful hand embroidered cloth, which I still have.

Another interesting woman was from Ghana. We were able to hear about the difficulties in her country. Zonta honorary members included former assistant secretary general of the United Nations, Helvi Sipila from Finland, whom I got to know very well. Margaret Thatcher, former Prime Minister of England, was also a member. Helvi was also past International president.

Zonta also gave me the opportunity to attend international conventions in Washington, DC., Denver, Colorado, and Sydney, Australia. Wilford accompanied me on all these trips. After the week in Sydney in 1984, where we visited the Opera House, had a luncheon tour of the harbor and did some sightseeing, we took a bus trip to Brisbane, where we stayed another week and were entertained by local Zontians in their homes. We also took a boat trip up the Brisbane River to a zoo, where we saw koala bears, kangaroos, platypus and other native animals. What an experience.

My first convention was in Cincinnati, Ohio as a representative of the Minneapolis Club. I now belong to the Zonta Club of Phoenix but am totally inactive.

Sun City, Arizona

We sold our house in Prescott during the San Diego convention and moved to Sun City in 1982. We also bought a summer place in Prescott at the up-scale mobile home park in Pine lakes, which I sold in 1996, but more about that later.

We were very satisfied with our move to Sun City. Since we lived in a condominium, we had the freedom to travel a lot in addition to spending the summers in Prescott. It was an ideal life.

We made use of the recreation centers in Sun City by swimming just about every day. Wilford tended the little flower garden at the back of our house.

We joined the American Lutheran Church of Sun City. After about twenty-five years as a Methodist, I wanted to return to the Lutheran fold. Wilford was very satisfied with the church, too. The sermons were excellent and the acoustics were very good. Wilford had a hearing problem, but in this church he could hear quite well.

We attended seminars in Tucson once a year at the University of Arizona Medical School. When we first moved to Sun City I took a mini-course in Geriatrics at the University, which was specially tailored for me.

We joined several organizations in Sun City. These included the Scandinavian Club, of which I was president in 1988. This was the year celebrating the 150th anniversary of the founding of New Sweden in Delaware. I worked closely with the Swedish Consul on programs to honor the event. We had as our speaker Per Anger, former Swedish Ambassador to Canada and New Zealand. He talked about the time during World War II when he served as an assistant to Raoul Wallenberg in Hungary, who helped so many Jews to escape the tyranny of the Nazis.

As a result of my endeavors, the Swedish Government gave me a Certificate of Appreciation and a medal with the King's picture on one side and a notation of the 150th Anniversary on the other. Of course, the Finns played an important role in the founding of the colony too, which was noted by our speaker. Since then I have given many talks on Finland at Scandinavian Club meetings.

We also joined the Sun Cities Physicians Club, of which I was elected president for 1991, if I remember correctly. We also attended the luncheon meetings at Boswell Hospital for health professionals. These were continuing medical education programs, which gave me the opportunity to maintain my medical license in Minnesota. I was awarded the Minnesota Medical Association 50 Club Certificate of Membership in 1996 for 50 years in American medicine.

Our social contacts were primarily through the Finns and Friends group of the Greater Phoenix Area. In the beginning, Sun City residents were the backbone of the group. We held monthly potlucks at members' homes. Later, with aging of the Sun Citians, a younger group took over and we have fewer meetings. They are now outside of Sun City, often long distances away.

Since few of us have relatives in the area, the members of Finns and Friends have almost become surrogate families for us in Sun City. The Finns in Sun City still have get-to-gethers occasionally among ourselves.

For several years we had season tickets to the concerts of the Sun Cities Symphony Orchestra held at the enormous Sun Dome Auditorium in Sun City West. From time to time we attended other musical programs there, too.

In the spring of 1983 I was invited to give the commencement address at Suomi College. We stayed with Warren and Patty in Minneapolis coming and going.

Later that summer we were on a cruise to Alaska, which was very enjoyable. I collected a lot of materials in Sitka on the role of the Finns in Russian Alaska before the United States purchased the territory. In the summer of 1984, as I mentioned before, we were in Australia.

Wilford very much wanted his brother, Clifford and his wife Lillian to spend Christmas, 1984 with us. He even paid for Clifford's trip. We had a good time and the two brothers reminisced a lot about their childhood and youth.

After the holidays Wilford did not feel well. First I became ill with a severe upper respiratory infection and then Wilford became ill with the same infection, although we were always very careful about not spreading our infections to each other.

All through January, 1985 he continued to have this cough. Then his heart rhythm became irregular and he developed fibrillation. On February 15 he still drove his car on errands, but by the following morning his arrhythmia had become so bad I called our internist, Dr. Don Buffmire.

We received an immediate appointment for him. When Dr. Buffmire examined him he had him put in a wheel chair and taken to the hospital immediately. He was placed in the intensive care cardiac section. I spent all the daylight hours with him, but drove home for the night.

On February 19 he was transferred to a private room and was told he could go home on Saturday, five days later. However, that evening I received a telephone call from the hospital telling me he had taken a turn for the worse.

Wilford's Death

In fact he was already dead. I called Pastor Wallace of our church and he was to take me to the hospital. However, I was so anxious to get there, I was going to drive myself. My good neighbor Jim Rodberg instead drove me there and waited until Pastor Wallace arrived.

Wilford's last words had been "Call my wife" before he lost consciousness. Pastor Wallace took me home and stayed with me until he had arranged for Geneva Rodberg to come and spend the night with me and until I was able to call family about his death.

I was completely devastated. Earlier we had made plans for our eventual demise by purchasing a cemetery lot where we would both be laid. Douglas and Ruth arrived the next morning to help arrange for the burial. Later their three children arrived, as did my cousins and spouses from New Mexico. Warren and Robert came from Minneapolis and Madison.

The burial was private with just family members present, but a large group of friends gathered at the memorial service at church later, which was followed by a reception. Later the family gathered at my home and Warren stayed a few more days with me after the others had left.

The first few weeks after his death were filled with practical details. It wasn't until these had been completed that the reality of his death set in.

The first was the feeling of such loneliness, no one to talk to, making all the decisions alone, going places alone, doing practical chores that he used to do.

My friends in Sun City treated me as before, but in Prescott I felt that not being a part of a couple made me less desirable as a friend. This was particularly true regarding a couple with whom we had been quite close. I never did regain that former friendship with them.

The summer after Wilford's death I went to Finland with Kirsti Smith, the wife of the Finnish consul and their two little children. I stayed with my sister-in-law Airi in Turku, but made several trips elsewhere, such as Pori to visit my father's grave and also to see friends there, and to Kuopio to attend a planning meeting of the Reunion of Sisters, a joint program between the University of Minnesota and the University of Kuopio. This reunion would be held in Minneapolis and would involve women from all over the United States and Finland.

We spent quite a bit of time in Norrskata at the summer cottages of Airi and their children. My niece Anja and I made a boat trip to Savonlinna to attend an opera. It was a delightful time. I also visited Kaarlo, my brother, after he had returned home from the south.

All in all the trip was a healing experience for me and I was better able to cope with the death of Wilford. I spent the remainder of the summer in Prescott at my summer place. My friends Shirley and Phil Knopp were especially good to me, as were my closest neighbors, Mel and Arliss Woodworth. He helped me with heavy chores, such as taking out the garbage once a week and rolling out the recycling bin. He also raked the yard around my place and even climbed onto the roof to clean out the gutters. Without his help I could not have kept my summer place.

At this point I want to mention Linda Wallace and her husband Pastor Wallace, without whose emotional support my emotional healing would have been delayed. Linda and I would go out for lunch and call each other at frequent intervals. They are still my best friends.

My faith also helped me to get through this difficult time. I learned that you cannot rely on others for your happiness. Each of us lives in his own circle of family or closest intimates and the rest of us touch only the fringes of that circle. I had many good acquaintances, but only a few very good friends. My days might be full of activities, but in the evenings I still had to come home to an empty house.

CHAPTER VII

STARTING A NEW LIFE

A year after Wilford's death I was settling down to a life alone. I had invited Pastor and Linda Wallace over on the first anniversary of his death. On that same day I had received a letter that disturbed me. It was from my old acquaintance, Dr. Erkki Leppo. He said he was coming to Sun City to visit a doctor friend of his and would like to see me too.

I was hardly ready to see him. He said his wife had died three years earlier. I told the Wallaces of my dilemma. Pastor Wallace encouraged me to see him by asking me if I wouldn't like male companionship for a change after only being with women. He said we could go out to dinner or the theater. So I wrote back saying I would see him.

I was quite shocked to see him. He had changed a lot since I had last seen him some fifteen years earlier. We went out to eat a few times, for example at the Boulder's restaurant in the east valley. I also invited him to go to church with me on Sunday, but rather than sitting in my usual pew, we went to the opposite side of the church to avoid acquaintances. No such luck. Other friends saw us there.

Erkki seemed quite smitten with me and after his return to Duluth we continued to communicate with each other by phone. In fact we talked to each other every evening, so it was a long distance courtship.

The end result was that he would retire from his medical practice and we would get married. This happened on May 26, 1986 (Memorial Day that year). We were married at my church with only family members present. Douglas and Ruth came from California, Warren from Minneapolis, Erkki's son, John Leppo, DDS from Michigan, and his daughter Anne Cameron and her daughter Heather from Seattle, Washington. Linda Wallace also was present.

After the ceremony I served a catered dinner at my house. The occasion was filled with music. Warren played a composition of his own, Pastor Wallace sang, accompanied by Linda, and Erkki and I played a flute and piano duet. We had a great time opening the presents.

Erkki returned to Duluth before I did. I had had an earlier commitment to attend an International Zonta Convention in Toronto. I invited him to come along, but he declined. At this time I also visited Clifford and Lillian Park in London, Ontario.

After my return from Toronto, Erkki joined me in Minneapolis to attend the Reunion of Sisters that I mentioned earlier. One of the participants was my Zonta friend Helvi Sipila from Finland. She was an old acquaintance of Erkki's too and was quite surprised about our marriage.

The one who was really shocked about it was Ritva Heikkila, who probably had some designs on Erkki, because when she saw him she greeted him with open arms, saying "Erkki kulta." She blanched when Erkki introduced me as his wife. I had met her years earlier when she had served a year as an instructor at Suomi College. Later I had sat next to her at a dinner in Kuopio at the planning meeting of Reunion of Sisters.

After the conference in Minneapolis, Erkki and I flew via Seattle to Honolulu to attend an International Pediatric Convention. This was also our honeymoon. While there we had lunch with Professor Niilo Hallman, a former classmate of mine and a good friend of Erkki's. He too was greatly surprised by our marriage.

I can't say the honeymoon was a success. Erkki was constantly being involved with other people, both acquaintances and strangers.

On our return we visited with Anne and her daughters in Seattle. We had a nice time there. We also made a side trip by ferry to Vancouver Island and to Vancouver itself to visit my cousin Lasse Hartman and his wife Kaarin.

We finally returned to Duluth and established the pattern of spending our summers in Duluth and winters in Sun City. Erkki had done major remodeling of his house prior to our marriage. He had also gotten rid of a lot of trash that had accumulated. There was still much to do and I spent considerable time cleaning out the kitchen cupboards. Over the years Erkki gradually got rid of the stuff in the recreation room in the basement.

Erkki also had a summer cabin on a lake about 35 miles east of Duluth. It was a beautiful location, with a sauna and outhouses. The dock was rebuilt providing a wonderful place to relax and enjoy the scenery. Swimming was also good from the dock. But since there were no modern conveniences except electricity, we usually stayed only two or three days at a time there. Before we stayed there at all, the place needed a major overhaul too, and the junk that had accumulated had to be hauled away.

The lake afforded Erkki with an opportunity for fishing, a passion with him. He had a motor boat and spent most of his time on the lake fishing.

Warren and family visited us two or three times each summer and we would spend a day at the cabin. We would swim and Erkki taught the boys the art of fishing too. He would clean any fish they caught.

Erkki had fishing buddies with whom he would go to his favorite fishing spots at his so-called secret lakes. Usually they would leave in the early dawn, like at four a.m. and return in the afternoon. I used to eat fish a few times a year; now we had it three or four times a week. Erkki made a very delicious fish soup with potatoes, carrots, milk and chives.

Erkki must have been pediatrician to most of the families in Duluth. We were never able to go shopping for food without his former patients cornering him with hugs. I would stand at the sidelines waiting for him to continue shopping with me. Often I would continue shopping by myself. Occasionally he would introduce a mother to me.

On the street, too, he was constantly stopped by patients. Only once did a gentleman stop on the street and address me. He happened to be a lawyer who was a second cousin of mine, Mr. Koskinen. His sister June Keranen had told him that I had married a Finnish doctor in Duluth. He recognized Erkki, but spoke only to me. Did I ever gloat about it to him.

I attended Erkki's church in Duluth, Messiah Lutheran. When Erkki introduced me to a lady there, she looked at me and said, "You don't look Finnish, you look Jewish."

I made a few friends in Duluth. Especially kind to me were Evelyn and Palmer Abramson, neighbors of Erkki's. He was a dentist and we would have coffee at each other's homes, go out to eat quite frequently and occasionally the other Evelyn and I would go shopping at the mall.

Other friends included the Perttulas and the Belcastros, at whose summer cottage we would visit, staying overnight. Jack and Frances Everett were very hospitable toward me and visited us even in Sun City, when they came this way.

I had a big birthday party for Erkki on his 80th birthday. His son John and his wife Pola came from Michigan. They came at least once each summer to visit us. Warren and family came from Minneapolis. About 170 people attended the open house, which was held at the church fellowship hall. A member of the church, Helvi Kurki, assisted me with the arrangements and recruited women from the church to serve.

The Zonta Club of Duluth, at the instigation of Helmi Lammi, invited me to their meetings, which I faithfully attended. I also went to the retired physicians' luncheons and the Safari Club meetings with Erkki.

In about the fourth year of our marriage, Erkki began renting his house to medical students for the school year. As a result of this we spent May and September in Prescott, June, July and August in Duluth and the remainder of the year in Sun City. We made three trips together to Finland and Sweden, 1987, .1988 and 1991.

Erkki and I had a lot in common. We had both graduated from the University of Helsinki Medical School, though in different years. We had both been fellows at the Mayo Clinic. We were both pediatricians. We had the same professional acquaintances both in Finland and in this country.

We both spoke several languages, Erkki more than I. We both loved traveling and we both loved music and enjoyed going to concerts. Our tastes in music were identical. We both had the same values and our religion was the same.

This should all have made for a happy marriage. But we also had vast differences in our personalities. We both brought the baggage of our past into the marriage. Earlier I described my characteristics. I came into the marriage very "we" centered, because of Wilford's and my great closeness to each other.

Erkki was very disorganized and time did not mean much to him. He would have always been late if I had not prodded him. He saved every scrap of paper and he could seldom find things in this mess.

A more serious difference, however, was the fact that in his previous marriage it had been 'he and she.' I believe they lived fairly independent lives from each other. I accepted his fishing hobby as apart from me, but otherwise I expected to do things together with him. Obviously he thought otherwise. This caused a lot of friction between us. I constantly felt benign neglect on his part toward me.

He was very much oriented toward other people. On every one of our trips, cruises or excursions, he would always latch onto someone else, leaving me alone. This was the reason I began asking Anja, my niece, to go on cruises with us, so I wouldn't be so alone.

It took us almost six years to work this out and adjust to each other. There were a lot of compromises on both sides. Then Erkki's health began deteriorating and he sold both his house and lake property in Minnesota. He donated an island he owned to the YMCA.

The last two years of his life, he was completely dependent on me, so our relationship changed again. The last five months he was in a nursing home, because I couldn't care for him at home. He died there on April 12, 1996. I sent his ashes to Finland, as he desired, and he was laid to rest in the family plot at Vihti cemetery.

Because Erkki had been so kind and solicitous of his patients, he was greatly loved by them. Before his death he began to receive hundreds of get-well-cards and letters, all of which expressed their great appreciation to him. He also received a certificate of commendation and thanks from the Mayor and City of Duluth "for having a positive influence on the health and lives of thousands of Duluthians." For his last Christmas gift I put them all in an album for him.

His final reading had been a little prayer pamphlet, which was open to a page on "This is love." He also was reading a book by Dr. Wilton Bergstrand,The Eagle Speaks. A Wonder of God's Creation, which he greatly enjoyed.

Right to the end he was alert and interested in life. He was teaching an aide of German extraction one German phrase each day. He did the same to a girl of Swedish extraction.

CHAPTER VIII

ALONE AGAIN

I had every intention of going to Finland with my friends, Airi and Masa Riikonen, but first I went to the doctor for my annual physical examination and to have the tumor in my breast examined. It was cancer! I had not told Erkki about it, and I couldn't leave Erkki alone to have it taken care of while he was still alive. There would have been no one to be with him during my own surgery and convalescence. His son John did come to visit him with Pola just before he died.

My oncologist said I must have surgery immediately since the cancer had already spread to my lymph nodes. I had no one to turn to, so I went to the church for help. In June 1996, two months after Erkki's death, Pastor Wallace accompanied me to the hospital, stayed there through my surgery and took me home three days later.

Betty stayed with me for a week after surgery. Then I had caregiver women help me each morning until my nephew John came for a ten day stay a week later. After this I was on my own.

Then I had to go through six weeks of daily (except weekends) radiation. It sapped my energy so much that by the weekend I could hardly stand it, and I knew I had to start all over again the next Monday.

Erkki and I had moved to a retirement center, Desert Amethyst, a week before he was hospitalized and I continued to live there for a year. I had not sold my condo (my home since moving from Prescott), so, following Erkki's death, I moved back to it after I had some painting done and new carpeting installed in the family room. It was too depressing to live in the retirement center. I had no friends there, the service was bad in the dining room, but worst of all was the noise factor. I couldn't sleep at night because of the noise from the apartment below me. I'm much happier in my own home. Here I have cleaning and gardening help and a friend helps me carry the groceries from the car to the kitchen.

I spent the summer of 1997 in Prescott at a retirement center that took in summer visitors. Three months was too long to stay there, but I didn't want to spend the hot summer in Sun City, and I had nowhere else to go.

My Current Life

Life is very lonely now. It is not easy to make new friends and I find myself very much a loner. Friends in Sun City have died, others are beginning to show signs of aging. It is not convenient to visit relatives in this country; they are all too busy to have "house guests."

Although I think I am as alert mentally as ever, my physical condition is deteriorating. I have quite severe lower back pain, which is due to osteoarthritis or degenerative disease. Also, my physical stamina is quite poor, in spite of daily exercise and walking up to a mile every day. I must rest a lot and take my daily nap.

My faith has sustained me during my adult years and especially now in the loneliness of my old age. I am still active with my writings, preparing for occasional talks at the Scandinavian Club, attending medical lectures, participating in events at my church and meeting with friends occasionally.

My greatest fear is being alone in my hour of need. I pray for a sudden death, rather than a prolonged painful one. I have such an aversion to nursing homes and even retirement centers, that I am already making plans for extra help at home.

Epilogue

I have gone through tragic years during the wars between Finland and Russia. So many premature deaths have occurred in my family.

I have gone through a very productive medical career, and I believe my work has done some important good for many people.

I was fortunate to have a husband who was kind and gentle and supported me in my career goals. We had almost thirty wonderful years together. Then an old friend came into my life for another ten years of companionship and new experiences in our retirement years.

I am grateful to my Park family, especially Warren, Douglas and Betty. I regret that I am so far away from my brother and nieces and nephews in Finland, and my family members in this country including my nephew John in Michigan. I also appreciate the contact and concern of Erkki's son, John Leppo.

I think I have lived longer than all my ancestors. I have had a very interesting and even exciting life. I was fortunate to have parents who encouraged me to follow my dreams. I was able to pursue the career I wanted. Doors constantly opened up for me. It has been a good life and I appreciate the opportunity to have lived it as thoroughly as I have. I have touched a number of people and many have touched me. Thank you all. And thanks be to God.