Aino Maria Justiina Nisumaa was born on 121st St. in Harlem’s Finntown on Valentine’s day in 1921. Maria later shared her thoughts with Aino on having her first and only baby at the age of 42: “I got a lot of crazy Valentines over the years; then I got a live one!”
Aino remembers being five years old when she and her mother took the long voyage across the ocean to Finland, and they stayed there so long that Aino forgot how to speak English. She remembers fondly how after returning to school in Harlem, her classmate Gloria Tuominen sat next to Aino helping her because Gloria spoke both Finnish and English. Unfortunately, during their absence, Aino’s father ended up in debt, and subsequently, he lost their home. Therefore, after returning to the U.S. on January 1, 1928, Aino and Maria moved into Aino’s godmother Justiina’s house – where Aino and Maria shared a Murphy bed - on 126th St. between Lenox Ave. and 5th Ave., just a block away from the Communist Hall (Vasemmisto Haali) while her father rented a room somewhere else, but still wanting to get back together with Maria. Mikko must have known his wife well enough to promise his debtors “Mari will pay you back.” And that’s exactly what Maria did, and the couple continued to be on good terms with each other.
When the Mannerheim Line – a defensive fortification line to block the Soviet troops from entering Finland - was being built, Mikko, who was a carpenter by trade, decided to go back to Finland to help build it. Maria and Aino planned to follow him, but the Winter War broke out in late 1939 as the Soviet Union invaded Finland, and while Aino’s father survived the war, he never returned to the U.S. Aino remembers how proud he was of her when he received Aino’s high school graduation picture.
Aino’s favorite subjects in school were Drawing and Music, whereas she claims Algebra and Geometry were challenging for her. She lived just a block away from P.S. 68, which was slowly becoming predominantly black as white families had started to move out of the area. Aino mentions that many people lied about their address to get into white people’s school, and incidentally, Aino was the only white person in her class for two years. When asked how things were for her, she explains, “No problems whatsoever. It was an excellent school. We were all treated the same.” She thought black families worked very hard; “Harlem didn’t change until later.” She also recalls how “Many students liked pickles, so during recess, they walked to a nearby store and bought pickles straight out of a barrel.”
Whenever there was a special occasion at the school (e.g. Golden Jubilee), Aino added some Finnish flair by borrowing her friend’s Finnish national costume (today Aino owns four of them). And she smiles when reminiscing how she and her good friend Ebba, who lived within a shouting distance, used to holler at each other, “Mitä puet tänään?” (What are you going to wear today?). Aino also adds that they often spoke Finglish, half English, half Finnish. In her free time, Aino liked to go roller skating and riding on rental bikes in Central Park. She wasn’t allowed to go to dances before she turned 18, but she and her friend Helen would stand by a saloon on 122nd and 3rd Ave. so they could listen to such favorite songs as “Tuntematon Tie”.
Love and War: Sweetheart Walz during World War II
World War II was right around the corner when 1939 - 1940 World’s Fair took place in Queens. Aino volunteered at the Finland House, and she remembers the opening ceremony. She was also one of the volunteers who were asked to go to different theaters on Broadway to accept donations during the intermission. Many volunteers had a sash saying “Help Finland”: Finland was already fighting against the Soviet Union, and Aino explains that people felt sorry for the tiny nation against the giant, and they were eager to give donations to help Finland.
Aino’s future husband Elis Backstrand arrived in the U.S. at the tender age of 17 on one Monday in September 1939. His sponsor Uncle George brought him to the Fifth Avenue dance hall (Haali) on 127th St. It was a very active place at the time with all kinds of entertainment: That’s where many young people ended up meeting their future spouses. Aino flashes a mischievous smile when she recounts her first meeting with Elis: Elis introduced himself as John, and without missing a beat, Aino said her name was Mary.
It should be mentioned that even though Elis was from Finland, he didn’t speak any Finnish: He was from Pörtom, a Swedish-speaking area near Vaasa in Ostrobothnia (Finland has two official languages, Finnish and Swedish, and some municipalities are monolingual).
Elis was deferred because he worked for the Navy Yard, and therefore the couple was able to tie the knot on. December 5, 1943. Aino remembers how the wedding ceremony started at 3:30 PM, and Finland’s Independence Day reception took place just before their 6 PM wedding reception. Because of the war, food stamps were needed to acquire such rationed foods as coffee, meats, butter, sugar, and jelly. Luckily, friends had promised to help out, and “They certainly came through,” notes Aino. Her mother and godmother Selma (Aino had four godmothers) prepared sandwiches for 150 guests – what a wonderful proof of how close-knit the Finnish community was back then! For their wedding waltz the iconic Finnish accordionist Viola Turpeinen played the Sweetheart Waltz.
When Elis was deployed, he served in the U.S. Navy (Construction Battalion) in the Pacific. During that time, he sent a whopping 455 letters to Aino. When he returned home in January 1946, he was seemingly unscathed, but as he got older, his ankle started to bother him: He had sprained his ankle one time when he ran to the beach among other men whose duty was to build roads and took a tumble.
After the war, Elis returned to his old job at a railroad company, and later he worked for Slattery Construction. A big change took place when their daughter Linda born was born on May 10, 1950, just four days before Mother’s Day. Over the years, Elis continued to give most of his salary to Aino’s mother (who lived with them), and in 1955, they had saved enough money to get a mortgage on a two-family house in Crestwood, NY, a peaceful neighborhood about 20 miles from Midtown Manhattan - Aino still lives in the same house. Another big change for the family came in December in the form of another daughter when Kathryn (Kathy aka.”Mummun ruusunnuppu”, Grandma’s rosebud) was born on their 12th anniversary. Aino points out that her mother was “mummu” to everybody: children adored her. When Aino shares that her mother died on July 16, 1969 (“Four days before we landed on the Moon”), she starts to sing a Finnish hymn “Sun haltuus rakas Isäni” before telling how her mother and friend Aunt Mimmi were supposed to be buried next to each other, but due to a mistake, a soldier ended up being buried between them. Aino smiles with a twinkle in her eye, ”Now they can fight over a man.” When Maria passed away, her books were donated to the archives of Suomi College. Aino inherited her love of reading, and she is still an avid reader, including Amerikan Uutiset.
Over the next decades, Aino continued to be active in the Finnish circles: Activities and many flag ceremonies in Finnish national costume at Finn Hall, New Yorkin Naisvoimistelijat, Finn Fests, and other festivals, midsummer dances at Lomala plus Imatra Hall and Finlandia Foundation activities in New York. Aino even sent her granddaughter Elisa to Salolampi camp in Bemidji, Minnesota. And she hasn’t been busy with just Finnish activities: During the Vietnam War, her daughters’ Girl Scout troop sent letters to soldiers as a service project. Aino recalls exchanging letters with a helicopter squadron pilot in the Navy – and even though John Ohlinger was far away in Vietnam, he was actually from New Rochelle, “almost a neighbor”, chuckles Aino.
Aino is still active in her long-time church, Asbury Crestwood United Methodist Church. It’s actually fair to say that she follows everything between the Earth and the Moon. Namely, Aino keeps abreast with her granddaughter Elisa, who works for NASA in mission control as well as with her grandson Karl Erik, who is a Master Sergeant in the U.S. Air Force. She has also been blessed with two great-granddaughters. “They all are so wonderful,” Aino says and adds that family is important. Yes, indeed.
When asked what makes her Finnish, Aino lists three things without hesitation: Isä meidän (Lord’s Prayer), Finnish music, and dancing. Elis and she used to go dancing three times a week – no wonder then that she’s disappointed that her knees don’t let her dance anymore, because, for Aino, it’s just been the first hundred years of dancing!
May your special day be filled with warmth, sunshine, joy, love, and laughter the way you’ve brought them to others for ten decades!
Hyvää satavuotissyntymäpäivää, Aino!
