BLC
Berkeley Language Center
During the 35 years I’ve lived in Berkeley, I’ve visited many
Finnish & Finnish-American homes in the Bay Area. During these
visits, my eyes have inadvertently wandered to scout the Finnish objects
and artifacts displayed in Finnish/American homes. Different
generations may have different stylistic preferences, but some stable
elements, such as wall hangings and design vases can often be found. It
has been my longtime dream to look into Finnish immigrant material
culture more closely, and I’m grateful to have had the opportunity to do
just that with the Berkeley Language Center Fellowship in the fall of
2011.
Goals
My goal in this project has been to explore what Finnishness means, how
it might relate to what artifacts people keep in their homes, and how
Finnishness is expressed through the narratives shared with me. In
addition, I have tied the project to my teaching, as the intermediate
and advanced Finnish students in my multilevel class did their own
research projects on the Bay Area Finnish American community and on
current students in UCB Finnish courses. The project also relates to the
MLA (2007) recommended guidelines of translingual/transcultural
competence for language instruction.
Finnish Immigration to the United States
Finns most likely joined Viking expeditions as early as 1,000 years ago,
but the Finnish emigration to North America was strongest between 1864
and 1914, when Finnish communities were built mostly along the US-Canada
border. Today, it is estimated that there are around 700,000
Finnish-Americans in the U.S. Northern California is one of the
traditional Finnish areas, and the older Finnish communities can be
found in Fort Bragg, San Francisco, and Berkeley. As life in the
Finnish-American communities revolved around a variety of ethnic
activities and organizations, Finnish-Americans created a new hybrid
culture that had ingredients from both the old homeland, Finland, and
the new adopted home, America. A hybrid cuisine, and a hybrid
language—“fingliska”, “fingelska”, or “finglish”—also emerged. To date,
many Finnish organizations are still alive (Tuomainen, 2008, p.
500-503).
Berkeley as a Finn Town
The already established Berkeley Finnish community grew dramatically
after the 1906 earthquake. San Francisco’s sizable Finnish community
near the Embarcadero had burned down, and Finns moved to undamaged areas
such as West Berkeley where Finnish communities already existed. West
Berkeley came to be known as FinnTown. Finns have played a significant
role in Berkeley history, especially with the Co-op movement. Even
today, two Finnish Halls and a church with services in Finnish exist in
West Berkeley. Partly due to Berkeley’s deep Finnish immigrant roots, UC
Berkeley launched the Finnish Studies program in 1995 as the first—and
so far only—University of California campus to offer instruction in
Finnish language and culture (Watkins, Tuomainen, 2011, p. 89-90).
Qualitative Research: Ethnographic/Autoethnographic Approach
While my study can be labeled ethnographic, autoethnography undoubtedly
and unavoidably plays a large role in it. Autoethnography as a method
combines characteristics of autobiography and ethnography. When writing
an autobiography, an author retroactively and selectively writes about
past experiences. When researchers write ethnographies, Geertz and
Goodall claim, they produce a “thick description” of a culture (quoted
in Ellis, Adams & Bochner, p. 3). The purpose of this thick
description is to help facilitate understanding of a culture for
insiders and outsiders, and is created by (inductively) discerning
patterns of cultural experience—repeated feelings, stories, and
happenings—as evidenced by field notes, interviews, and/or artifacts
(Jorgenson, quoted in Ellis, Adams & Bochner, p. 3).
What I’ve done is have Finns and Finnish-Americans in the Bay Area
discuss the Finnish objects and artifacts in their homes. My goal has
been to “tease” the role of Finnishness in their lives out of the
interviews. As an ethnographer doing the above, I became
participant observer—that
is, by taking field notes about cultural happenings as well as people’s
engagement with these happenings (Ellis, Adams & Bochner, p. 5). As
I was also interviewing cultural members I was examining and analyzing
their ways of speaking and relating to their Finnish roots, and to the
ethnic artifacts in their homes.
The data set included video recordings, photos, and talk. I analyzed
the data reflexively and realized that my presence influenced the
narratives, and my autoethnographic comments produced more data and
mixed in with the data. I didn’t even try to avoid autoethnicity but did
my best to pay attention to the possible influences my pre-established
attitudes might have had. The collected data is a collage of materials,
which provided a focus for the themes that emerged. I have analyzed the
narratives and the artifacts reflexively in relation to my own
interpretative stance.
The Traditional Idea to Identify Finnishness:
the Three S’s: SAUNA, SISU & SIBELIUS
When I started looking into the literature regarding the concept of
Finnishness, the idea of the 3 S’s kept popping up. I assume
sauna to be a familiar concept to most; also Sibelius’s music is widely appreciated. However,
sisu is probably a new term, and thus I will share the explanation given in the Urban Dictionary.
The 3 S’s, SAUNA, SISU & SIBELIUS, is a popular metaphor, used for images, articles and even books.
However, I find the concept somewhat limited and limiting. While
searching for a more appropriate metaphor, I came up with the concept of
aitta.
AITTA
➢ a granary or other unheated farm storehouse of relatively firm build,
used as a storage of various goods that are relatively valuable and too
voluminous.
➢ figuratively used with a modifier, as in
aarreaitta (a treasure chest).
(Wiktionary)
I will now take you to visit Finns and Finnish-Americans of different generations as I enter their
aarreaittas with curious eyes, searching for new treasures.
My Interviewees
I interviewed 13 Bay Area residents: ten women and three men. Six were
Finland-born Finns, four were children of varying ages born to at least
one Finnish parent, and three were third generation Finnish-Americans.
The ages of my interviewees ranged from 3 to 74.
I used the following categorization of immigrant generations:
- First generation immigrants: Those born in Finland and immigrating to the US at the age of 15 or older.
- Second generation immigrants: Those born in the US or having immigrated under the age of 15.
-The offspring of the second generation is considered the third
generation, and their grandchildren are the fourth generation.
(Martin and Jönsson-Korhola, p. 13)
A Highwire Experience
We immigrants have options. We can choose to acculturate as best as
possible, or we can live as if we never left our native place (in this
case Finland). Most of us end up living in the in-between, a malleable
Third Place, balancing our identities every day.
The term Third Space/Third Place has been mostly discussed by
post-colonialist thinkers and sociolinguists. Here I’m using Letizia
Allais’ working definition presented in her BLC talk. Allais sees the
Third Place as the dynamic and hybrid space that serves the navigation
across the multiple languages, identities, and cultures an individual
may have and experience. She claims further that the Third Place is not
static, but malleable. It’s a space of potential as a cultural,
personal, and emotional construct.
I’ve viewed that place as being a highwire artist—I actually prefer the Finnish term:
nuorallatanssija,
literally a ropedancer. I had assumed that many of my second or third
generation interviewees would maybe display some symbolic ethnicity. The
literature I reviewed had many ideas about the definition of symbolic
ethnicity. The term was coined by Herbert Gans (p. 167) and refers to
ethnicity that is individualistic in nature. These symbolic
identifications are essentially holiday traditions, special recipes and
rituals, rooted in family traditions—enjoyable aspects of being ethnic.
Displaying ethnic and cultural pride through material culture or objects
such as flags, bumper stickers, t-shirts, and so on is also included in
some definitions of
symbolic ethnicity (Virtanen, 2006, p. 2).
But my interviewees surprised me. They seemed to be dwelling much
more deeply in the third place than I had expected. The first generation
immigrants hardly ever leave the third place, as I so well know, being
one myself. This was also the case with the Finns I interviewed. But
visual or auditory cues seem to compel also many American born Finns to
plunge into the third space occasionally, to varying degrees. Harminder
Dhillon expresses this beautifully in the following quote:
Hypothesis
My hypothesis is that Bay Area Finnish-Americans go beyond symbolic
ethnicity. They live in frailty and a flimsily outlined third place that
is constantly in dynamic motion, expanding or deflecting, depending on
the moment. At the same time, the place they reside in is a hybrid
personal space of a nostalgic, imaginary ‘homeland’, filled with true
and imagined ethnicity. Finnishness is being continually reconstructed
according to individual life events, needs, goals, and desires.
Fragilities
I found what is called symbolic ethnicity dynamic and constantly
reshaping itself. An example of this is St. Urho’s Day. Midwestern
Finnish Americans created this celebration to compete with St. Patrick’s
Day, and the celebration has now spread all around the U.S. And there
are rumors that even some people in Finland are embracing St. Urho’s
Day. Because of the dynamic quality of symbolic ethnicity, I would argue
that it is a deeper concept than what the current literature indicates.
I found that visual or auditory cues seem to compel many American born
Finns (who could be identified as embracing symbolic ethnicity) to
plunge into the third space occasionally, to varying degrees. The
high-wire balancing act immigrants engage in daily, and the nostalgia
moments by the hyphenated Americans, the second or third generation
Finnish-Americans, have led me to the concepts of fragility. Fragile
objects are often kept carefully wrapped in the
aitta. So, I’m peeking into the
aitta as a treasure chest of Finnishness.
Becoming a Fragilologist
My findings and fascination with fragilities echo those of a Nigerian
visual artist, Otobong N Kanga, whose work I discovered in November 2011
and found intriguing. He has coined the term, fragilologist (i.e., a
person who studies things that are fragile) to identify himself. I’d
like to join him as a fellow fragilologist to consider the objects,
artifacts, and the narrations of those from the following viewpoints:
-Fragility of artifacts
-Fragility of memory
-Fragility of language
-Fragility of ethnic origin of an artifact
-Fragility in awareness of surroundings
-Fragility of traditions
-Internally fragile identity
-Fragility of nostalgia: nostalgia for ethnicity and ethnic purity
So far, I have looked at the following three fragilities in more depth:
➢ Fragility of the artifacts
➢ Fragility of the language
➢ Fragility of the ethnic origin of the artifact
Fragility of the Artifacts
The concepts of fragility made me walk around my own home and consider
my artifacts with new eyes. I realized that I’ve only used the three
green wine glasses inherited from my grandma to toast a new baby, and
that the little shot glasses with painted flies get to come out of the
china cabinet for only very special occasions.
Also my interviewees pulled out carefully packed fragile items with
extreme care while discussing the importance of preserving them and
passing them onto next generations. Grandma’s apron is too fragile to be
worn at all, the baptismal gown is over 100 years old, the rya rug wall
hanging had to be taken off the wall because of the effects of bright
California sun, the bird vase inherited from mom is kept on the floor in
case of an earthquake, the birch bark slippers are falling apart and
displayed on a bookcase, a unique designer vase, received as a 60th
birthday gift, is used only for special, expensive bouquets of flowers,
the salad utensils carved by grandpa are chipped because a non-Finnish
husband uses them for pasta, the rag rug, ordered from Finland and
specially color-coded for the bedroom, is now falling apart, and so on.
Tuohikontti,
a backpack constructed out of birch bark by a skilled grandpa, used for
carrying fish, has been chewed up by the interviewee’s dog. The
unraveling of the
tuohikontti had been quite upsetting. “It
felt like a significant part to ancestors unraveling,” my interviewee
told me. Similar feelings were shared by many. No one had any plans to
discard these fragile items. They have inherent value as nostalgic
mementos and connections to important family members. The artifacts are
‘telling a story’—they are ‘evocative objects’ or ‘things we think with’
as Sherry Turkle puts it (Turkle, p. 307).
The meaning of the items shifts with the generations, with time, place,
and the narrator and the listener of the story. While the objects become
more fragile, the memories associated with them also become more
fragile. There’s a narrative of nostalgia and loss associated with many
of the artifacts. Some of these objects seem almost idealized. They’re
kept because of my interviewees’ needs for belonging and continuity. One
of my interviewees, a visual artist, has even based most of her work on
nostalgic objects and old photos. The importance of these artifacts
could be due to their Finnish origin, but for many the family connection
was more important. The artifacts coming from a Finnish relative made
them Finnish in the eyes of the owner. This concept brings me to the
second fragility.
Fragility of the Ethnic Origin
There’s often no clarity if the object is actually Finnish, but as long
as it appears Finnish-like, is acquired in Finland, or inherited from a
Finnish relative, it is considered authentically Finnish.
The favorite Finnish object of Maia’s (age 6) is a Walt Disney book,
The Princess and the Frog.
It is a Disney product, and very American as such. It is naturally also
originally written in English. But Maia’s book is called
Prinsessa ja sammakko,
and it is a Finnish translation, printed in Finland. Thus, in Maia’s
mind, it is a Finnish object. Another interviewee had a reindeer-shaped
clock, mounted on a board covered with lichen, on her mantel. She
remarked that it certainly looks very Finnish. How is that manifested?
Reindeer live in Finland. Lichen is abundantly available and even
exported in large quantities. Maybe the lichen for the clock comes from
Finland, but the clock itself is manufactured in China. The clock has a
multiple ethnic identity, as by now does its Finnish-born owner.
I asked one interviewee, a young California-born Finnish-American,
“how would you feel if you broke one of your treasured objects?” She
told me that one of her friends had actually dropped a soup plate she
loved. She had found a set of the blue-and-white plates, all a little
different, at a flea market in Helsinki. She couldn’t explain why the
plates made her feel very nostalgic for Finland. I asked to see the
remaining plates to take some photos. As she was holding them up, she
burst out laughing. On the bottom of two of the plates, you could easily
read SVERIGE (Sweden), and another one had DDR printed on it. “But they
really look very Finnish to me,” was my interviewee’s embarrassed
comment. They were ‘Finnish’ to her.
A third generation Finnish-American showed me a little jewelry box
she had inherited from her mom. She told me it was not Finnish, but it
made her think of her Finnish mom, so it, in effect, became ‘Finnish’ in
her mind. As the artifact is connecting her to her Finnish past, her
ethnic identity, it makes it Finnish to her.
In an editorial of
The Journal of Material Culture, Daniel
Miller and Christopher Tilley define the study of material culture to
cover a wide area. “The approach can be global or local, it can consider
the past or the current period, or the relationship of these two.” (in
Esine ja Aika, p. 11). Based on this, the fragility of the ethnic origin
could be considered to look at the relationship that connects the
current and the past owners of the artifact and their common ethnic
heritage. Maybe this could also bring us to the concept of imagined
ethnicity, the reconstructed, reimagined Finnishness that is malleable
and keeps reforming itself. The urban legend of St. Urho and the
celebration attached him can be viewed as an example of imagined
ethnicity.
Fragility of Language
The third fragility I’ll discuss is the fragility of language. A lot of
Finglish
was used by the third generation Finnish-Americans. The term was
created to describe the way English and Finnish languages were getting
mixed in the everyday speech of Finnish immigrants in America. It is
typical of Finglish to borrow lexical items from English, to nativize
them and to insert them into the framework of Finnish syntax and
morphology (Tuomainen, p. 1).
The third-generation Finnish-Americans called certain items with a dialect name the owner of the object had always used.
Esiliina (an apron; literally a front cloth) became
esliina, with a dropped ‘i’, or
vyöliina (literally
a belt cloth). Most also displayed many different types of baskets,
typically used in household for many functions. However, no one knew the
Finnish name, derived from Swedish,
kori, but called them ‘
baskitti’, a typical way Finglish words are formed (i.e., by adding a vowel into an English word).
Haarukka, a fork, became
forkki or
kahveli from Swedish, a word borrowed into older Finnish.
They also couldn’t think of a proper term for specially named wall hangings in Finnish. There is
täkänä,
raanu,
poppana,
ryijy,
etc. based on the style or material used. But even Finland-born Finns
mixed these up. Also, for example a wall hanging, called
a rya rug in English would be mispronounced as the Finnish term,
ryijy became [raia]. Interestingly, though, I found another side . . .
The Strength of Finnish
Many of the Finnish-American interviewees told me that they do sprinkle
in certain Finnish exclamations into English sentences in their everyday
life and that the English-speaking family members have learned to react
appropriately.
Älä nyt! (C’mon!)
Tule tänne! (Come
here!). So, there’s certain strength in the Finnish language. Finnish,
unlike other Nordic languages, has weathered better and longer in
immigrant communities. This is claimed to be due to Finnish being a
non-Indo-European language, and thus very different from English.
Speakers of other Nordic languages, Swedish, Norwegian, and Danish, all
Germanic languages, had a much easier time in gaining fluency in English
than Finns. Most likely, this is partly the reason why Finns have ended
up retaining their communal cohesion and ethnic identity longer than
other Nordic groups (Susag, p. 42-43).
The strength of Finnish was also revealed by the difficulty people had
in naming many of the objects in any language other than Finnish. I
already knew that that many of the artifacts could only be named in one
language, as I had tried to figure out an appropriate name for an item I
found at my mom’s attic last summer. It is
Pyykkiessu (laundry
apron), a small apron with a large pocket to hold clothespins when
hanging laundry outside. The Finland-born Finns could not often find a
word to describe an item in English, mainly because the item does not
exist in the U.S.
Tuohivirsut has to be described as
slippers made out of birch bark.
A Finland-born interviewee showed me his
kantele. When asked
for an English name, Peitsa, a music lover and a musician, got into a
complicated description, “it’s a cord instrument, and there are
different types. For instance, there’s
virsikantele used to accompany church music such as hymns.
Kantele has no threads, just open strings. You could call it a zither—it’s close to the hammered dulcimer and
cembalo, used in Hungary. It also exists in Estonia as
kannel or in Latvia as
kokle.”
A second-generation Finnish-American told me that her best American friends know what to bring if she asks for
Mariskooli,
one of her favorite design items that she owns in many colors and
sizes. When asked to name it in English, she had to pause for a moment
before she could come up with “a special kind of Marimekko glass bowl
with a stand.”
Code-shifting frequently took place with bilingual or multilingual
interviewees. A nine-year-old trilingual interviewee, Mikko, insisted on
reading (translating) his book,
Tatu ja Patu supersankareina,
his favorite Finnish item in English. But when he came to a list of
words, made-up by the author as puns on plays on words, such as
kurjasto (a place of misery), a pun inspired by
kirjasto
(a place of books, i.e., a library), he quickly reverted to Finnish,
without making any effort in trying to translate those into English. Of
course, this was most likely an easy choice since Mikko knows me well,
and Finnish is the language we have always conversed in.
The strength of the language is also evident in the desire of many of
the second and third generation Finnish-Americans to learn or improve
their Finnish skills. They told me that knowing the language makes them
feel closer to the culture. So there’s a definite longing for
Finnishness. To relate that to my topic, the last question I asked was,
“If money were no object, what would you bring from Finland to your
home here?”
Objects of Desire–Longing for Finnishness
Answers to this last question became almost monotonous. Most
interviewees would bring a sauna. The ones who wouldn’t were planning to
build one here, and one already had a sauna in his house. One who
planned to build a sauna would bring a container load of Marimekko
fabrics to use for anything and everything, another who planned building
a sauna would bring the grandparents’ wooden furniture, one would bring
a Finnish Swan-brand sailboat and name it using an original family
name,
Kontio that had been changed on Ellis Island. (
Kontio is a euphemism for
karhu, a bear). One would not want anything concrete but would just want to go to live in Finland to learn the language.
The fact that the sauna was such a popular choice didn’t really surprise
me. Many of my interviewees had wall hangings, prints and pictures of
saunas on their walls. And the favorite Finnish object of my youngest
interviewee, Thea, who was 2 years, 10 months old, was the sauna she
pretended to be taking in her playroom. Appropriately, the last person I
interviewed treated me to a sauna in his house.
After the various fragilities I’ve been describing, I must admit that
I’ve been overwhelmed by the depth of Finnishness even the third
generation Finnish-Americans displayed and shared. It is also obvious
that there is one stable concept that everyone, whether Finn,
Finnish-American, or wannabe Finn, holds close to heart and that proves
most essential to his or her Finnishness: the sauna. However, I hope
I’ve been able to show you that obviously, the sauna is
not the only treasure. And as it so happens, in addition to
sauna,
aitta also belongs historically and culturally next to a sauna to form a traditional Finnish farmhouse complex.
Obviously, there is a whole
aarreaitta or treasure chest to
explore. I realize that I’ve been just scratching the surface layer. I
hope to keep exploring to get to the bottom of the chest and to all the
hidden corners of
aitta, where new generations of Finnish-Americans will no doubt add their new and unexpected treasures of Finnishness.
Works Cited
“Aitta.” Wiktionary
http://www.wiktionary.org/ Web. 11 Nov 2011.
Allais, Letizia. “Third Place in the French classroom: A separate
space for a new beginning?” Berkeley Language Center Fellows
Presentation. UC Berkeley, December 3, 2011.
Dhillon, Harminder.
“The In-between Life of an Immigrant”. readerswords.wordpress.com/page/15/?archives-list&archive. A guest post. Readerswords.wordpress, 3 March, 2007. Web. 3 Nov. 2011
Ellis, Carolyn, Tony E. Adams, and Arthur P. Bochner. (2010).
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qualitative-research.net/index.php/ fqs/article/ view/1589/3095. Web. 28
Oct. 2011
Gans, Herbert J.
The Social Systems of American Ethnic Groups. New Haven: Yale University Press. 1945. Print
Martin, Maisa and Hannele Jönsson-Korhola. “Amerikansuomalaiset ja heidän kieliolonsa.”
Amerikansuomi.
Virtaranta, Pertti, Hannele Jönsson-Korhola, Maisa Martin, and Maija
Kainulainen. Helsinki: Suomen kirjallisuuden seura. 1993. Web. 5 Nov
2011.
Miller, Daniel and Christopher Tilley. “Editorial.”
Journal of Material Culture, 1 (1996).
Esine ja Aika. Materiaalisen kulttuurin historiaa. Mäkikalli, Maija ja Riitta Laitinen. Eds. Helsinki: Hakapaino Oy. 2010. Print
Kanga, Otobong N.
“Fragilologist’s Predicament 2011”. KIASMA Museum, Helsinki. 2001.
Susag, Chris. “Contemporary Finnish American Identities Compared: A Preliminary Examination.”
Journal of Finnish Studies 6 (1-2) 42-43. 2002. Print.
Tuomainen, Sirpa. “Finnish-Americans.” Encyclopedia of Race, Ethnicity, and Society. Richard T. Schaefer (Ed.). 2008. Print
- - -, “Suomalainen kotikaupunkini Berkeley San Franciscon kupeessa.
Suomea pitkin palloa.” eds. Mai Frick and Saija Merke.
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Tuominen, Jenni. ”An Introduction to Finglish.” A FAST-US-1
(TRENPP2A) Introduction to American English First Paper. University of
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Turkle, Sherry (ed.).
Evocative Objects: Things We Think With. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2007. Print.
Virtanen, Hilary. Heikki Lunta.
Cultural pride in the Upper Peninsula and Finnish America. 2006.
http://csumc.wisc.edu/exhibit/HeikkiLunta/culture/ Web. 6 Nov 2011.
Watkins, Thayer.
“When West Berkeley was a Finn Town.” San Jose State University, Department of Economics; applet-magic.com;
http://www.sjsu.edu/faculty/watkins/finntown.htm. Web. 18 Oct 2011.
Further Reading
Akhtar, Salman.
Objects of our Desire. New York: Harmony Books, 2005.
Caldas-Coulthard Carmen Rosa and Rick Iedema.
Identity Trouble: Critical Discourse and Contested Identities. Palgrave Macmillan, 2008
Finnish American Lives.
Finnish American Lives
The Fragility of Memory In A Postmodern Age.
http://science.jrank.org/pages/10165/Memory-Fragility-Memory-in-Postmodern-
Jarvenpa, Aili. (Ed.)
In Two Cultures: The Stories of Second Generation Finnish-Americans. North Star Press of St. Cloud. 1992
Kramsch, Claire. “Third culture and language education.” V. Cook (Ed.),
Contemporary applied linguistics. 2009. 233-254. New York: Continuum.
Kivisto, Peter.
The Ethnic enigma: the salience of ethnicity for European-origin groups. Associated University Presses, 1989.
- - -,
The Attenuated Ethnicity of Contemporary Finnish Americans in
Immigration and Ethnicity: American Society–“Melting Pot” or “Salad
Bowl”? Michael D’Innocenzo and Josef P. Sirefman, editors. Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1992.
Lockwood, Yvonne R. “The Sauna: An Expression of Finnish-American Identity.”
Western Folklore Vol. 36, No. 1, Studies in Folklore and Ethnicity 1977. pp. 71-84
Pahl, Kate. “Narratives, artifacts and cultural identities: An ethnographic study of communicative practices in homes.”
Linguistics and Education. Volume: 15, 4, 339-358. 2004.
- - - , and Andy Pollard. “The Case of the disappearing object:
narratives and artifacts in homes and a museum exhibition from Pakistani
heritage families in South Yorkshire.”
Museum and Society 8 (1). 2010.
Stoller, Eleanor Palo. “Sauna, Sisu & Sibelius. Ethnic Identity Among Finnish Americans.”
The Sociological Quarterly, 37, (1) 145–175. 1996.
Virtanen, Keijo. Finnish Americans.
Michigan Historical Collections Bulletin No. 26. 1976.