A Fateful Journey on the World’s Largest, Strongest Ship—the Titanic.
I feel a connection to my genetic roots in Finland.
I am American born of parents born here, in the United States of America. My connections are in ways, simple such as enjoying a taste of coffee, the national drink of Finland.
In elementary school, fifth or sixth grade, our studies led me to ask my mom if we were middle class. She said, lower-middle class. Hmm, they only mentioned three. Three.
This story draws parallels, to me, perhaps to you, at traveling third class, also called third steerage. It is a story of one of many ancestors immigrating to America. I am certain many readers can relate. Although this topic is not one I have ever thought of in the past, with the topic of immigration so prevalent in the news today, I remembered the chat with my mom.
On April 15, 1912, the RMS Titanic, would sink in the icy waters of the northern Atlantic Ocean.
My paternal great aunt, Elin Dolk Hakkarainen, as a recent bride, would board a remaining life boat without her husband, Pekka. His body was never recovered. After being rescued, along with other survivors, she would make passage on the Carpathia and on to Ohio.
Using family history, and my own romantic notions, I have written a series of short pieces to weave family truths, history, and fiction. Names are changed around among family members on both sides of my four Finnish grandparents, siblings, their friends and common Finnish names.
May 21, 1914
Ashtabula, Ohio, USA
Do you Liina, take Veikko…She barely heard the remainder of the Pastor’s words. Her eyes met Veikko, his high cheek bones detected a hint of red, his blonde hair with its adorable and stubborn cowlick that never flattened even with the determined application of pomade.
I cannot believe I would be standing here, gently kissing my friend as my brother, sister-in-law, their son Miika and several Finnish friends applauded the marriage. It was only a little over two years ago that I would lose my precious husband, Johann on the fateful night as we journeyed to North America. The strongest and largest ship in the world the newspapers stated. A glamourous journey across the Atlantic they claimed.
Oh Liina, stop. Do. Not. Go. There. That ship has sailed. I will not relive that dreadful journey, crammed like salted herring in a tin can. As third class travelers, we were banished to the hold, two bathrooms for hundreds of passengers. Stop. Let it go. Nothing lasts forever, no one lasts forever.
Change is inevitable. Darkness will open its day to light. Grief will open her heart to love.
And, Veikko, her dear shy friend is now her husband and soon to be, lover.
I am so grateful. First to my older brother Franki and his wife, Aina. Franki, tall, strong Finn, determined to start a new life in North America had been the first of the family to make the arduous and long journey in 1907, where he met Aina. Aina, a round-faced dark hair Finn of northeast Finland, more Sami in her. Her round facial features were a good proportion to her short-statured, plump body. She was a quiet one. And, loving in a typical stoic fashion. Her nissua equals Mamma’s, but I will never share that with Mamma!
And my gratitude extends to Pastor Martii. He met me at Franki and Aina’s home where I was living until I could get settled. I had as long as I wanted and needed. Pastor Martii was kind, and gentle. He knew my despair and yet he chose to give me space talk about it on my terms and when, if, I was ready. He waited about another month before asking me to consider coming to the church’s Sunday 9 am service. It was then he told me of his travel to North America in 1885 as a young lad of twenty. Determined to find work in the new factory of steel making. And, he did, staying a few years in Pittsburgh Pennsylvania, saving money and studying to be a pastor.
He told me of his deep religious belief and desire to return to Ohio to help build a Finnish Community Hall, then a Lutheran Church. Both to strengthen the ties that bound these Finns who emigrated from their land, leaving behind family and friends to forge a new land.
It became evident to me, not right away, the kind Pastor’s way of helping me heal. His sermons would speak of our Finnish sisu, our tenacity of purpose. Our knowledge that through our suffering we will persevere. Our grief-stricken hearts would warm to find new love, our weakness would find courage.
And, at his encouragement and my brother and sister-in-law’s too, I finally started also attending the Saturday evening plays and dances at the community hall and the Sunday afternoon meals as well. I loved the accordion music, the polka-style dances, and the fun plays.
It was in late 1912 that my eyes found themselves looking up into the good-looking face and shyly taking the hand of a boy, really a man, to dance. We danced all evening! Our feet moved to the music, we stomped around the circle of others, mostly quiet folks, most not smiling, but, we did smile. I blush, Mamma would have been alarmed that we dare show any sort of affection to one another in a public setting!
I glance around at the hall, with folks now dancing at our wedding and some drinking coffee and eating freshly baked nissua and then, I look at Veikko and we wink, ever so slightly. Tonight we begin our life here together. I start a new entry into my diary, tomorrow.
Post script:
Aunt Elin would remarry another Finn, Emil Nummi and have an only child, Gerald. He was born in the year between my dad and uncle, making them first cousins. Although I do not recall meeting Gerald, I did, as a very young girl, meet my great aunt on one of our annual visits to Warren, Ohio. She died in 1957, I was six years old.
Gerald would co-author a small book, Titanic, “I’m going to see what has happened”. I have taken some information from a newspaper article he submitted regarding the fateful event. Book by Janet White and Gerald Nummi, 1997.
Great idea to turn your family's Titanic voyage into historical fiction.
There were a LOT of third-class passengers from all over Europe on that ship. Also a second-class Japanese passenger who survived and took flak for doing so, and a Haitian, the sole black man. He gave his life to save his family.
I met his descendants at an event in Newark, and they signed my reproduction copy of a newspaper that announced its sinking.
Now they're building a NEW Titanic. I hope it has enough lifeboats.....
What a creative idea to write historical fiction based on your family’s experiences! I’ve always been fascinated with the Titanic, so this was a fun read. Thank you for sharing!