When I was about 10 years old, my grandmother talked to me about our family roots and my ancestors. She showed me a large, old family Bible with a list of relatives going back to about 1800. Later, a historical map of the Chesapeake Bay published in the paper showed my family name among the early landowners on the Eastern Shore. My interest in ethnic heritages stayed high from then on.
In my first college English class, the professor called the roll. After one name, he paused and said, “That’s Finnish, isn’t it?” I had not met anyone with connections to Finland but I had heard of tremendous Finnish courage and determination, sisu, and other aspects of Finnish culture. I knew that the Finnish language was related to those of Hungary and Turkey but not to others. At my college, there were four or five women for every man so I was busy meeting and dating women. It took a while and a few twists of fate for me to get around to finding and getting to know the pretty blonde woman who had agreed with the professor that her name was Finnish.
When we started to discover how much we liked each other, I tried a little research about Finns. I learned that the Kalavala (or Kalavela) was the national epic poem of Finland. Curious, I went to the college library to see if we had a copy of the work. We did. I found the catalog card and it read “Translated into English by William Kirby”! That was in the days before the computers, the internet and Google. I had no idea then that there are hundreds of William Kirbys in the US, England, Canada, Australia and no doubt elsewhere.
I just stared at the card. Was this a joke? Was it a cosmic message? No and yes. And so, about 50 years later, I am still with that Finnish-American in answer to lovely divine will.
