Nissa-Nassu

In my work-in-progress children’s pioneer novel, “The Wormy Bean Winter,” six-year old Emmi tells two-year-old Sunni about Aunt Riika’s famous Nissa-Nassu (Finnish Christmas Piggy Cookies) that they always have at their aunts for Thanksgiving. This results in their saying the name both forward and backwards, "Nassu-Nissa...Nissa-Nassa," as well as much noisy “oinking” and even noisier giggling!

Jana attempted to nurture her Finnish heritage by making Piggy Cookies for Christmas.

In the photo they did look “piggy.” (Messy like pigs anyway!), due to coloring the frosting with some seedy raspberry jelly or something to make them pink!  I’m sure they were delicious. And I admire her spirit in fostering our Finnish traditions.

Happy Holidays!

Lorna Kerin Beall

Note from Jana: Inspired by my mom's story, I decided to try my hand at Finnish Piggy Cookies. Dan combined the Finnish tradition of baking ginger cookies with his own love of local Tohono O'odham heritage ingredients by making yummy mesquite-ginger cookies. Unfortunately, the piggy shape and ginger-mesquite taste was covered by the raspberry frosting. I didn't have a pig cookie cutter so I cut out circles and sculpted piggy ears, snout, legs and tail with my fingers. I made another cookie of a piggy face with a raised snout. They sorta looked like pigs until I put the speckled pink frosting on them. I tried making eyes with little dollops of white icing and a shiny round sprinkle. When I applied black eye lasses on it, Dan's mom exclaimed, "Oh! It's a face!" 

Heirloom Traditions

Our little "Tree of Life" represents our relationship. Can it withstand the weight of our first Christmas? 

Traditions are like heirlooms handed down by families through generations: trimming the tree, sending Christmas cards, favorite holiday treats, singing Christmas carols, hanging lights, going to Christmas Services, and the big family dinner.

Are family traditions worth the time and effort? Actually, the busier we get, the more important it is to hold onto them. Traditions help us stay connected to lost loved ones, ethnic heritage, religion, family, and friends.

One vanishing tradition is sending Christmas cards. I remember looking up in wonder at Mom's many Christmas cards hanging from a red ribbon.  This year I got five cards. Five! For years I sent newsletters sharing our family story to keep distant friends and relatives in the loop. But now I can’t seem to find the time. Instead I post Christmas greetings on Facebook and find personalized memes for friends. (I sent a Finnish Christmas stamp meme to my cousin and a Christmas gnome to my sister.) The great thing about sending cards is that it keeps us connected to distant family and friends.

This year we combined new technology with old. We took a photo with our cell and created the card on the computer.

Another tradition is holiday baking. Sure, it’s easier to buy cookie-cutter perfect cookies from the bakery, but what are we missing?  When I mix up a batch of oatmeal chocolate chip cookie dough, it brings back warm memories of making cookies with our mom, with all of us kids waiting around to lick the bowl. What better way to spend precious time with your family. This year we added a cookie decorating party to our traditions and shared a delightful afternoon with friends.

The "Cookie Queen" reigns over her subject.

Dan and I are spending our first Christmas together. After our Thanksgiving fiasco caused by warring traditions (when the words, “Scott doesn’t do that,” were uttered); Dan and I discussed how we can better handle the holidays. We have decided to meld our traditions and make some of our own. We’ll open our presents on Christmas Eve (my tradition) and eat tamales (Dan’s tradition). Today we were googling new Finnish recipes (reflecting my ethnic heritage.) We got a good laugh at the Finnish comfort food (don’t ask me how to pronounce it) nakkikastike – hot dog sauce! Lol! (I also posted the picture on my mom’s Facebook page – along with a squeaky cheese recipe (leipajuusto) that mom mentions in, “Model-T Biscuits.”) For the first time, we will be making Finnish cardamom coffee cake and coffee for breakfast Christmas morning.

To deal with the addition of two cats in the house (Dan's), we decided to forgo a traditional Christmas tree (Jana's). I realized that the part I would miss the most were our sentimental ornaments and lights reflected in shiny red and gold bulbs.  So we decorated a pole over the sliding glass door (Dan called it our festivus pole) and hung the boys' baby ornaments on our tree lamp.

One reason we hold onto Christmas traditions is to recreate the magical memories we experienced as children. A favorite memory was going Christmas caroling with our church youth group. I loved belting out Christmas songs until my throat was raw. My ex and I recreated that magic by hosting popular Christmas Sing-a-long parties. But trappings of those parties - the song books, candles (lit during Silent Night) and jingle bells have been packed away in the shed ever since my eldest son became an atheist.

Another cherished tradition was to make Nana’s chicken soup with homemade noodles.  Carrying on that tradition, I can feel her presence as the noodle dough sticks to my fingers. This year I saved time by using roasted chicken and broth in the chicken soup. And I still got to make the homemade noodles (the part that made her soup special.)  I imagine Nana is looking down and shaking her head in distaste. 

One way to make traditions last is to simplify them. Mom calls me every year to ask for my easy fudge recipe. We set out several fun ingredients (marshmallows, Reese’s Pieces, coconut, nuts, raisins, etc.) and the boys come up with their own creations.

It is so easy and fun that it's become a Christmas tradition. Here's the recipe if you'd like to try it...

JANA’S EASY FUDGE

3 cups chocolate chips

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1 tablespoon butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

Put all the ingredients in a microwave-safe bowl, microwave for two minutes (stirring after one minute and at the end), and spread onto a greased cookie sheet (or into a giftable mug) and refrigerate. Easy!

Why is it as we get older we care more about Christmas traditions? We long for that connection with our past and the joys of our youth. 

Have a Merry Christmas full of heirloom traditions!

Jana

Mining for Authentic Details

Lorna Kerin Beall

In the children’s novel I’m writing, The Wormy Bean Winter, Kata’s Finnish Pappa and her thirteen-year-old brother, Jari, go to work in a Copper Mine in Butte, Montana.

Vanadium, Colorado mine, ca 1900. Western History/Genealogy Dept., Denver Public Library.

I needed to find out if they used Carbide helmet-lamps there in 1919. So I called a librarian in Butte and, surprise of surprises, she’d seen a photograph of a miner wearing one for the very first time in that mine in 1912!  She also explained in detail how the carbide “lumps” worked. I owe her many thanks.

I also needed to know the name and description of the contraption (elevator?) the miners took to enter the mine. My daughter (who had done some research for her own screenplay) hooked me up with Carey Granger, the tour guide and care-taker of the Good Enough Silver Mine in Tombstone, Arizona. Carey told me it was called a cage.

In, The Wormy Bean Winter, Pappa and Jari have to go in the cage for the first time. I likened it to a cage of chickens they’d seen fall off a buckboard and clatter down a cliff.  Carey, thanks for sharing the authentic details that help make my story a little more accurate. I probably still need to double-check some of my mining details... 

A Memorial to our Muse, Cousin Willo.

Sisu. One of my mom's favorite words. Finnish for gutsy. She loves to weave it through her stories about our Finnish ancestors. Wonder if she got it from our cousin Willo? I remember when Mom first started researching Finnish customs for her book, Model-T Biscuits. She sent Willo a list of questions about their family stories and growing up on the S. Dakota homestead. This got Willo a'thinkin'. She, in turn, self-published a book about her father, Axel Sacrison, and his art. What a gift she left for her children. Mom and I were thrilled when she sent us a copy of her next book, Cave Hill Finns: They Had Sisu!

It is a treasure trove of old-timey photographs of our ancestors' homestead; Cave Hill Lutheran church; sheep wagons; the sisters decked up in their white Sunday dresses on horseback; Mumu weaving a rag rug on her loom; and Axel's wonderful painting of his mother in her puku (dress) and huivi (head scarf) walking past the homestead by the buttes. Inspired by their sisu, I pored over these family photographs as I adapted, Model-T Biscuits, into a screenplay.

One summer, all of us cousins stayed at Aunt Edna's house while attending the Finn Festival in Astoria. Since Willo had been such a help, Mom and I wanted to share, "Model-T Biscuits" with her and our other cousins. As the fragrance of fruit soup with cinnamon wafted in the air, we all sat around the kitchen table and read it out loud. I always felt a special kinship with Willo.  I was delighted to find another family member who was also into video production, so I sent her my short Western, "Desert Angel." Willo, Mom, and I share a love of all things Finnish and old-timey - themes we all wrote about on our blogs.

Cousin Willo and Aunt Edna at Cave Hills Lutheran Church

We love antique bottles: blue medicine bottles, ink wells, tinted with time, beautifully flawed, light filtering through, reminiscent of past lives. After seeing my Facebook post of glass bottles in a window cell, she started her own collection of blue glass that are posted on Willo's blog.

Reminiscing about Willo, I can almost feel her presence as the light streams through the antique glass in my kitchen window. Thank you, sweet cousin Willo, for sharing our family stories and the meaning of sisu. Lepää rauhassa.

Heritage Gardens (Healthy Traditions in the Making)

As Thanksgiving approaches, I reminisce about how, as a child, I was intrigued by the idea of living off the land like Native Americans. I loved climbing on the boulders in Apple Valley, California, (near Hesperia, where I grew up) to find holes worn in the rocks from grinding grains. On a recent visit to Tucson Botanical Garden, my boyfriend, Dan, and I were drawn to the Tohono O'odham heritage garden and the corn grinders.

(What fun! You can pay 25 cents for a handful of seeds to grind. Of course, being accustomed to modern conveniences, I opted for the corn that had been partially ground by the kid before me...)

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Dan took pictures of their irrigation system as a guide for the heritage garden we will be growing as research for his humanitarian farming project, The Pineapple Project.

We cleared out backyard for a test garden...

I love this project! Aside from assisting subsistence farmers in third world countries, it gives Dan's endless curiosity free range to research sustainability and returning to local heritage plants. Yes, we have attended plenty of food lectures and documentaries. Our idea of a good time is perusing the Tohono O'odham heritage cook book, From I'itoi's Garden. This all suits Dan's life style of eating organic foods and baking his own bread. (Lucky me!) We enjoy experimenting with all kinds of indigenous grains - much healthier than processed white flour.

Amaranth: Weed or Food?

Dan is also interested in using local plants (we call weeds or pests) as sources of food. In his research, he found out that the Amaranth, that is growing wild in the utility road behind our house, is a heritage food and more healthy than quinoa! Unfortunately, it was too late in the season to be edible. Prior to that, Dan waited patiently for our huge prickly pear cactus to bear fruit, but it never did. He is looking forward to the Mesquite bean to be in season for picking. It's tough being a programmer/gatherer.

We are excited about the new restaurants inspired by Tohono O'odham ingredients. These restaurants represent more than just a culinary trend. The Desert Rain Cafe is educating this generation about the health benefits of eating traditional foods. (Chiolin, the cholla cactus flower buds that their ancestors harvested, balance the blood sugar which is good for diabetes, a growing concern of the tribe.) We plan to make a pilgrimage to Mission Gardens at the base of A Mountain in Tucson. (It's by the Mercado - if you wanna grab a bite while there.) We already made the trek to Native Seeds where we bought Tohono O'odham staples: tepary beans and mesquite flour.

Last night we finally ate tepary bean stew with mesquite flour tortillas. (I say finally because it took 24 hours for these tiny beans to cook in the crock pot - even though we soaked the beans overnight.) But the stew was delicious. We found adding chipotle chilis gave it a nice smoked flavor. The homemade tortillas resembled Flintstone Frisbees. (Sorry, Dan. Your bread is yummy though! lol) To redeem himself, Dan just came in with a fresh, soft batch - thanks to the wonder of baking powder! Great with butter and prickly pear syrup!

UPDATE: Dan and I are excited to announce our new blog:

http://raglooms-heirlooms.blogspot.com/2016/02/starting-where-we-live.html

Halloween at Leroy's Tombstone

Tombstone Territory Rendezvous Halloween Weekend

What better place to spend Halloween than in Tombstone with Western history buffs and researchers who unearth stories of the dead?

October 30, 2014. Appropriately, Dan and I started our Halloween weekend on a day trip with the Tombstone Territory Rendezvous gang to Johnny Ringo's grave followed by a stop at Gleeson ghost town.

We all gathered around a tree believed to be the place Johnny's dead body had been discovered, while an intuitive cowgal seemed drawn to the fallen tree nearby. Was this really Johnny's tree? Or did she know something we didn't?

October 31, 2014 at rickety Schieffelin Hall reading the love letters of dead people.

I performed a dramatic reading of Mary Clum's last letter to her mother-in-law proclaiming how Tombstone and its weather agreed with her. "I've never felt so well in my life...as I do now." And then I read her husband, John Clum's, letter sharing the sad news that his dear wife had gone to be an angel.

Can't say I channeled Mary or John Clum - although I did get a little teary-eyed reading his heart wrenching letter. Hope Mr. and Mrs. Clum were mighty pleased with my reading.

The rest of the afternoon was spent making the acquaintance of a few of Tombstone's deceased mayors via PowerPoint presentations. Then we were transported back to the 1880's through period music presented by Paul Johnson.

 Old timey saloon music

After spending the day hearing about dead people, Dan and I were in just the mood for a Halloween ghost tour at the infamous Bird Cage Theatre.

From my first visit to Tombstone, I felt drawn to the Bird Cage Theatre. For me there was a sense of nostalgia in the dusty air. Every time I came to town, I felt compelled to chat with Bird Cage manager, "Lightnin' Leroy." I would wait around in the lobby for him to finish his spiel about the longest running poker game (24 hours a day for 8 years, 5 months, and 3 days) and how many bullet holes decorated the walls (over 140). Leroy would then spin yarns about winning quick shot competitions and the hotshot cowboys who challenged him on the streets, guns at the ready. Around this time, the Bird Cage was featured on Haunted History. But Leroy always seemed the skeptic when it came to ghosts - even as he shared the photo he kept behind the bar of the spooky orbs shot in the theater. But he admitted to feeling a cool breeze and getting a whiff of cigar smoke or perfume when he was closing the theater alone at night.

Leroy became the inspiration for a character in my comic screenplay, "Behind the OK Corral." While conducting research for it, I returned to the Birdcage with a group of psychics. Two of the ladies, at separate ends of the theater, simultaneously pointed up to the same crib and said, "See the big Madame in the green dress!"

Madame in green was in crib in back corner

This really struck me because of a similar incident on a previous visit...

I was in town to shoot my short film, "If the Dress Fits."

When I couldn't find a place to rehearse, Leroy generously offered the use of the Bird Cage stage. While touring the theater after the rehearsal, my actress suddenly got ill. She cried out, "I have to get out of here!" I figured it was an allergy to all the dust. She later admitted to seeing someone she knew in the cribs, someone from a past life. A madame with a green dress!

It's been a while since I finished my screenplay, and I no longer feel the same draw to the Bird Cage. (Perhaps in the process of writing, I had resolved my issues.) Though I occasionally bring family and friends. Once I gave a tour to a descendant of Mabel Earp Cason (Wyatt's cousin who collaborated with Sadie on the manuscript that would become, "I Married Wyatt Earp.")  But I ran into Leroy less and less. Then I heard the tragic news. That July, Leroy was shot down in front of his house by a local drunk.

It was weird going back to the Bird Cage with no "Lightnin' Leroy." But there we were on a ghost tour. The guide showed us the cribs in the balcony where the soiled doves (prostitutes) plied their trade. She informed us about the different kinds of paranormal phenomenon. Apparently she boned up on the facts from "Ghost Hunters."

She took us downstairs to the site of the longest continuously running poker game. We peeked into the more expensive $25 dollar a night rooms. She went over the rules on how to treat the ghosts with respect. Apparently they don't like it when you talk about Ouija boards or challenge them to prove they exist. They are there for the interaction. She made an excuse that the ghosts seem less active on Halloween. (Hmph!) Perhaps it's their one night off. One of the tourists, my boyfriend Dan, pointed out a bad smell that wasn't there before. I got whiff of the musty odor.  It smelled like something was rotting in one of the $25 rooms. The guide said that she didn't notice it on the last tour. She would check for a dead rat in the morning.

The room with the rotting odor

We went upstairs to the backstage area and found seats around a wooden table. The guide pointed out all the lights already in the room, so we wouldn't get a false experience. She placed two gadgets on the table: one that sensed paranormal energy and another that amplified paranormal sounds on FM and AM channels. She encouraged us to ask questions of the ghosts and turned out the lights. Our ears peeled for the slightest ghost whisper or footstep, we waited in the dark. No lights on the machine. We heard laughter. The guide said that's just partiers celebrating Halloween. Not the best night for ghosts. Our guide tapped on the table and asked the ghosts to tap back. Nothing. She tried again. "Do you hear that? Tapping on the stage?" Some tourists claimed they heard rapping on wood. I heard nothing. She asked, "Hear that? The clinking of poker chips downstairs?" No...(pout). I just heard the young woman in our group giggling. Dan thought he heard a little hand bell. The guide tried to talk to the ghosts and guilt them into speaking to us. "Hey, guys. This is Halloween. You don't want to disappoint these people." One of the women said that someone touched her hair. The guide switched the receiver to AM. The woman asked the ghost who he was. Something garbled came through the receiver. "Are you the one with the bad odor we smelled downstairs?" Ha! How rude! Someone thought they felt a presence walking behind their chair. Another woman exclaimed, "There's a hand on my head!" The young woman cried out, "I'm scared!"

Location where I saw the light

Staring towards the stage, I thought I saw a light. Finally, the guide wrapped it up. She claimed that we heard more than the last group: the tap in response to hers, the voice on the spirit amplifier, and the woman's head being patted.

Wish I could say I saw Leroy, or even the Madame in green, but I didn't.  After the tour, I asked the guide if she knew Leroy. Leroy had hired her. She was at the Bird Cage when his killer came downtown to brag about shooting Leroy. I asked, "You think Leroy ever drops by?" She shared how Leroy used to hate it when she was on her cell phone at work. Once, her cell phone went flying off the display case. She believed it was Leroy pushing it off and that he occasionally stops by to check up on them.

Leroy Colomy

The Bird Cage sure isn't the same without ol' Lightnin' Leroy doin' his spiel. I wonder if Leroy is still a skeptic when it comes to ghosts. Wonder if he ever met up with a cigar-chomping miner or a soiled dove with a familiar fragrance of perfume.

Gleeson Ghost Town

On the way back from Ringo's grave, we stop in Gleeson. What fun!

The Gleeson Jailhouse has been restored and made into a museum. 

We spot the Schoolhouse in the distance.

We explore all around and inside the School House.

We see copper mines in the hills. Ah, an abandoned mining town.

Love the General Store. 

There are still old refrigerators and chairs in the building.

Dan captures this picture of the mural through the dirty window.

Ringo's Grave

I feel like I'm coming full circle finally seeing Ringo's grave site. I had performed a dramatic reading of the pioneer journal of Johnny Ringo's Mama at Tombstone Territory Rendezvous in November of 2011.

Is this really Johnny Ringo's grave?

While everyone else crowds around one tree, Karen makes herself comfortable on a fallen tree.

Ron Woggon gives a speech on how Johnny Ringo's body was found sitting on this tree. There is a long standing debate on whether he killed himself or was shot, (In the movie, Tombstone," Doc shoots him) and whether he was moved here. There is a discussion about where the bullet holes entered his head. Everyone is a CSI expert these days! lol. At the time of Johnny's death, the coroner never even saw the body before writing the report that we scrutinize today.

The people in the nearby house, didn't even hear the gun shots.

Dan, being the brash newcomer, adamantly proclaims that this tree is too young to be the right tree.

I love my baby!

Karen feels drawn to the fallen tree and starts digging around for the rock that was at the base of the tree.