Together with Cousin Sebastian, I return back in time to the early years of my life in Finland. To a time of contentment, filled with fond recollections and inextricably intertwined with Grandma Elisabet. It's Papa's Wake (see posts Gathering And Remembering and The Notebook), and in the dim-lit and hushed surroundings of the mortuary, Sebastian and I revisit those happy days.
Great-grandmother Elisabet was
a wonderful woman and older than Finland itself; born at
the beginning of the nineteen hundreds within the Autonomous Grand Duchy
of Finland, then a part of the Russian Empire, when she died it was within The
Independent Republic of Finland. With her passing disappeared a mind crammed
with nearly one hundred years of accumulated history. From the outset, Grandma Elisabet as
we called her, adored me and I adored her; she loved me
unconditionally and just the way I was. Shortly after our first
encounter I was asked to write out my name in its entirety on a
piece of paper, 'Maria del Carmen Garrido Sanz', so that she
could share with her visitors the never-ending exotic name
of her favourite grandson's new Spanish wife.
Now, Grandma Elisabet was descended from a family named Hösko which had its origins in the little Finnish town of Jämsä. This Swedish name was later replaced with the Finnish version of Heinäkenkä, meaning 'Hayshoe', and Grandma Elisabet proudly told me that the historical family name stretched back over nearly five hundred years and sixteen generations to the rule of King Gustav Vasa of Sweden in the mid-fifteen hundreds. The family crest bearing the year 1539 confirmed this ancient lineage. Even older than the Romanov dynasty of Emperors that ruled over Finland for one hundred and eight years, the origins of the Hayshoe name was still shared with pride by family members as Grandma Elisabet recounted on one of my many visits to her home in the centre of Helsinki.
According
to the family legend, back in the year fifteen hundred and something, a certain Finnish peasant representing
his fellow countrymen visited the Court of the Swedish King in Stockholm to lament about the unreasonable
amount of taxes being
levied by the Swedish Crown on what was then the Eastern most province of the
Swedish Kingdom. In time, this
person was duly brought
before the King, who upon enquiring from his courtiers with whom he was
having his audience, was duly informed that he would be meeting
with, 'a man with
hay in his shoes'. 'Bring in the Hayshoe!', was the legendary
response of the King, and thus was created the family name of Hayshoe. The veracity
of this story has never been fully ascertained but if indeed
accurate, a more beautiful way of creating a name is hard to find. Why
the need to stuff your shoes with hay in the first place, it seemed
rather odd I once innocently asked. Well, for a start, it's
a jolly good way of keeping your feet warm in a middle-aged and
Arctic Finland, where your disposable income after taxes to the Swedish Crown have
been paid would not have stretched to fancier footwear. A logical response and I duly rested my case.
Upon her marriage, Grandma Elisabet assumed as was then custom, her husband's surname and the Hayshoe family name faded into the background. But the Hayshoe blood still ran in her veins and that of her children and grandchildren.
With my arrival, it now boasted within its already diverse genealogy a little Spanish girl, and within the space of a few years would be augmented with the next generation of Hayshoe offspring: Great-grandchildren in the form of Finnish-Spanish Hugo and Sofia. This much loved Great-Grandmother also became for me the Grandmother that I had left behind on my Spanish Island, as a little six-year-old Spanish girl departed with her family for new lands named England (see post Share The Moon). The regular visits to Grandma Elisabet's home would become for Hugo, Sofia and myself, moments of great contentment and was a place where incalculable riches awaited these two young Hayshoes. But first they would have to be delivered there in the family car, a feat not without its own challenges.
With my arrival, it now boasted within its already diverse genealogy a little Spanish girl, and within the space of a few years would be augmented with the next generation of Hayshoe offspring: Great-grandchildren in the form of Finnish-Spanish Hugo and Sofia. This much loved Great-Grandmother also became for me the Grandmother that I had left behind on my Spanish Island, as a little six-year-old Spanish girl departed with her family for new lands named England (see post Share The Moon). The regular visits to Grandma Elisabet's home would become for Hugo, Sofia and myself, moments of great contentment and was a place where incalculable riches awaited these two young Hayshoes. But first they would have to be delivered there in the family car, a feat not without its own challenges.
Next post 10th March: Tanks And Treasures
Note: All written content is the intellectual property of this Author. Image material is drawn largely from Pixabay with some small additions from private family archives.
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