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robyn aka zeldasdobi



Last Updated: 12/17/2009

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Gender: Female
Status: Single
Age: 46
Sign: Virgo

City: Portland
State: Oregon
Country: US
Signup Date: 6/25/2006
February 23, 2009 - Monday 

Current mood:  contemplative

I wrote to my friend Barbie about my upbringing and she suggested
that this type of history might interest others. So here goes:
My last name? It is Finnish. I grew up in Astoria Oregon, the
oldest settlement west of The Rocky Mountains! It has so much history
that other places that claim history or try to build that up make me
chuckle. My father spoke fluent Finnish..and it was settled by Finns
mainly..but also Swedes etc. Growing up I was surrounded by Finns but
because it was so normal to me, I didn't really notice it.
I also realize now that there is a regional accent there from the
Scandinavian influence. When I was a child I thought the world was
filled with these people who spoke another language and/or looked
Scandinavian or had names like Saarheim, Jylha, Lahti, Takkonein. etc.
There were dances at Suomi Hall. Never realized until years into my
adulthood that Suomi means Finland in Finnish. I was surrounded by
cultural roots I did not even realize were part of my center.

My father was a man with a lot of opinions and was freely willing
to share them. In that way, I am very much like him (be quiet peanut
gallery!). One time I heard him talking on the radio about gun
control. It was the oddest thing. I had known and heard this man all of
my life and had never heard his accent before. The radio brought it
out. Of course, his first language was Finnish. Now, if you know
someone who learned English as a second language, even as a very small
child, notice that underneath there is the hint of the original
language.

The regional dialect in Astoria is somewhat like Marge in Fargo.
But, not so strong. And it had a class element to it. Loggers were more
likely to talk about "gettin in the truck now" with each word overly
emphasized. Finnish emphasizes each word exactly the same. Hard to
comprehend but it is true. So imagine that phrase with the emphasis
equally on each word, and you have the idea of the regional accent in
Astoria.

I miss Astoria. I left in my 20s to go to school in Portland. And
I loved the city life. I still do. But there will always be something
in me that remembers what it was like to know and be known by everyone.
To see even the "oddballs" be included as part of the community. For
example, there was what now would easily be recognized as a gay man
named Robbie. Robbie was part of the community. People did not
speculate about him. People didn't go after him. He just was feminine
and had mainly girl friends. Instead of hatred for this defiance of the
masculine ideal..or charges of "queer"... he was just "Robbie".  A
little different but a person first. An individual. We grew up with
him. We knew him. He was not part of a class of people. Robbie moved to
Portland and was murdered years ago.

I miss the biographical aspects of growing up in a small town.
The fact that you watch others history and they yours, throughout your
life. There is a long biography that others all know about you and you
of them. You are observed. You are observed throughout your life and it
gives your life meaning....that others know your history. That they
know your marriage is finally to the right person...that your buying a
house has been your life long dream. Nearly everyone knows.
I took it so for granted. I look back and go wow...my best
friends were a Swede and a Finn. (Parenthetically I met the brilliant
young 16-year-old das auto/rev rand because he lived in  Astoria for
awhile and found me on here because of that) He is one of the friend's
I cherish the most on myspace.

Out of 4 cheerleaders in the ninth grade THREE were Finns and the
other was Norwegian. Last names were Takko (shortened from Takkonein), Saarheim, Savel, and Johnson.

If you watched the logging documentary on The History Channel,
you will have seen Jay Browning. I went to school with Jay. He was best
friends with my Swedish best friend's brother. His father was our
family eye doctor.

There are so many negative stereotypes about small towns. But
small towns also celebrate, much better than large places, what it is
to grow up and have a life that has meaning...just as others' lives
have meaning. It is called community. Something we sorely lack these
days.




6:01 PM
 
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