The Pilot: Narratives

The pilot study was conducted by studying stories women had written about their jewelry. The Kalevala Women’s Association gathered stories of women’s meaningful jewelry for their purpose of preserving Finnish narrative history. The stories were gathered through a writing competition. To guarantee variety in the entries, the association did not give any further guidelines for the competition other than the title “Jewelry Speaks of Its Wearer”. The competition was advertised in the major Finnish newspapers, on the association’s website, and in their own magazine. Also a jewelry manufacturing company, Kalevala Koru Oy (owned by the association) gathered stories via their website. They got hundreds of entries for the competition and they gave me 699 stories to use. Although these data was not originally gathered to serve academic purposes, it was useful as the base for the pilot study. The initial insights and the guidelines for the forthcoming Probe Enhanced Inter- view Study were drawn from the stories.

The narratives utilized in this study were written by women. No one was excluded from taking part in the writing competition, but most of the authors were middle-aged or older women. The male authors who participated in the writing competition wrote mainly about their significant women’s (mothers’, wives’ daughters’) jewelry, not their own personal belongings. Therefore, I did not study narratives from men. And in the later study, I decided to keep the research group similar to the authors of the stories: it seemed natu- ral based on the writing competition. When studying these narratives, I had to keep in mind that only those who were interested in writing about their jewelry responded to the newspaper announcements. Therefore, these respondents do not represent all Finnish women’s opinion of their jewelry, just how the people who decided to respond value their jewelry.

After sorting out the stories by male authors, the stories which were clearly fairy tales or poems, and those which were more or less lists of possessions, I had 464 stories to study further. Still the number was big to apply the qualitative approach, especially since the stories were so diverse. Nevertheless, the qualitative approach was the only approach I could apply because of the diversity of the stories as shown in the following sample story. Even though the data inspired me to study women’s jewelry, other scholars have also found women’s possessions interesting within the context of societal settings. Wallendorf and Arnould emphasize that the favorite possessions of young people are more func- tional whereas the favorite belongings of old people, and especially old women, are often personal and socially meaningful items (1988). Women have stated in even earlier studies that their most cherished possessions (Csikszentmihalyi and Rochberg-Halton 1981) or favorite things (Wallendorf and Arnould 1988) are related to social ties rather than func- tional products, which is more common for men. Below is a sample story meant to give an idea of the narrative data.

jewelry speaks of its wearer

I met him at 17 at an ice-skating ball on the Kimpinen skating ring in Lappeenranta. He wore a brown corduroy blouse and a driver’s cap. He asked me to dance to “The Umbrellas of Cherbourg”. I remember his scent. He smelled of fresh wind and clean clothes.

We met almost daily for two years. I studied at the girls’ upper secondary school by the water tower and Pekka already worked in a car shop. I was three years younger than him. He walked me to my home gate after the ice-skating ball ended and invited me to the movies next Saturday to watch “Sven Tuuva”.

We had box seats. We threw our coats on the coat rack. Pekka was wearing a light blue collared shirt, a tweed jacket and corduroy pants. I noticed that he wore a medallion on his neck. When the movie begun, he offered me candy from his Figarol pack and shyly held my hand.

I had not dated before. School and hobbies took up my time. I had spent my time on the sports field and among poetry and theatre ever since I was young. I did have boyfriends, but none of them had gently held my hand.

My home was on Valtakatu street opposite the military base’s fence. I was my father’s and mother’s only child and I had been told that if a boy asks me out he has to come pick me up from home and escort me back.

I did not ask Pekka to come pick me up from home for our first date. I guessed that my mother would watch out the window when she knew I was going to the movies and would wait for me with the evening tea right after the movie ended. I did not want my mother to see me walking down the street holding hands with a boy. I turned to the teacher Uimonen’s yard from the corner of Suonionkatu street and told Pekka that it was also the way to our yard.

I forbade him to come further than Uimonen’s gate. Pekka asked me to wait and opened his coat. He took the medallion necklace from his neck and placed it around mine. “I have gotten this from my grandmother as a Confirmation present and my grandmother said that I can one day give it to the girl I fall in love with.”

I ran to Uimonen’s backyard and climbed on his garbage cans, from there onto the fence and jumped down to our back yard, catching my skirt on a nail that stuck out. The skirt fabric ripped and my mother stood in front of me.

“Where are you coming from?” asked my mother.

“From the movies,” I said and looked my mother in the eyes. “Is the Valtakatu street closed?”

“No, but my mother watches me from the window and I did not say that I was going to the movies with a boy.”

“And because of that you had to rip your new pleated skirt,” my mother noted with a smile in her eyes.

“Yes,” I replied and stuffed the jewelry under my collar. “What are you hiding on your neck?”

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“I have a medallion.”

“Let’s go inside, it’s raining and grandma is waiting with tea and pancakes.” The entrance hall smelled of tea and strawberry jam. Grandpa was sitting in an

armchair in the living room and listening to a radio symphony concert. Grandma had set evening tea on the living room table and was waiting for us to come to the table, while dad was still in his study arranging his papers.

“Why does the girl have a ripped skirt?” grandma shrieked and yelled to my father to come right away.

My father came into the living room holding a pipe although that was not allowed. Grandpa closed the radio and stood up. Mother was almost laughing.

“Leena is practicing hurdles, but the fence was too high and had a nail sticking out.” “Wearing a new pleated skirt,” grandma said and laughed with water in her eyes. “It is only a skirt, thank God,” dad sighed.

I went to my room to put on jeans. They waited for me at the table and grandpa had put on the radio. The melody floated in the air like silent birds and I knew that I was loved. I hugged each of them individually. Grandma poured tea and mother put pancakes on our plates.

“Leena has a boyfriend,” mother said in a barely audible voice. Dad’s and grandpa’s faces darkened.

“I was present when the skirt ripped on the fence between teacher Uimonen’s and ours. I was taking out the garbage and Leena fell onto the lid.” Dad and grandpa started coughing, because their mouths were full and laughter bubbled in their throat. “Leena also has something on her neck,” mother whispered, not to disturb the

symphony. Grandpa and dad stared seriously at my neck. I pulled out the necklace from under my shirt for everyone to see.

“It is Kalevala Jewelry’s Madonna medallion!” my grandma exclaimed and I told that I had gotten it from Pekka. I also said that it had belonged to Pekka’s grandma.

“What’s inside it?” my father asked and I showed that the medallion had a piece of Pekka’s Figarol pack inside. Everyone smiled and looked at each other, but grandpa said that Pekka would have to pick me up from home the next time. So it happened and everyone liked Pekka.

“Such a thoughtful and beautiful boy,” grandma praised. “And behaves nicely,” mother noted.

We went out for two years. The summer came when I was due to leave for Helsinki to study at the Diakonia College. I was still waiting for the results from the Theatre School entrance examinations. Pekka was already working in the car shop doing car repairs. We travelled to spend Midsummer at my aunt’s family villa with my cousins.

I had a summer job in Lindholm’s shop, and right after work Pekka came to get me with my rucksack and tube bag from my home. Before that he had had time to fetch and fasten Midsummer birches beside our stairs and grandma told how one birch had fallen down many times when Pekka had tried to attach it to the stair rail.

We bicycled to the Market shore where we had taken Kajava, our sailing boat, the night before. We took our bikes to the Dairy’s yard so they would not disappear during our absence. The weather was sweltering hot. It looked like Kajava had recognized us from afar because it joyfully waved its mast. Travelling was slow because the wind did not aid us to reach Vehkataipale before midnight.

At night around 11 pm we were near the Lamposaari island. The surface of Saimaa was calm and quiet. Kajava had no engine and so Pekka went to the front to paddle, so that we could pass a narrow passage without any wind. The shores were full of tents and boats. People were getting ready for the big Midsummer celebration. I handled the steering and Pekka paddled in front. Suddenly Pekka turned around, standing up, his face looking at me with an agony-filled expression, clutching the paddle. I tried to tie up the rudder and run to the bow, but Pekka fell into Saimaa clenching the paddle in his fists. He turned his head and looked at me before he disappeared into the depths of Saimaa.

A man from the shore wearing swimming pants got in his small motor boat and headed toward Kajava. He switched off the engine and started diving, but had to stop because it no longer helped. I anchored my boat and set down the sails. The man took me to the Lamposaari sawmill where I could call the police. The police said that nothing could be done. They took me home and we notified Pekka’s parents in the morning.

Hot July brought Pekka to the surface two weeks after Midsummer. The undercur- rents had taken him far from his drowning site, and he had not been found in previ- ous searches. Grandpa and dad had volunteered in the searches.

Sorrow affected me deeply. I did not go studying that year. At night when I could not sleep I held my medallion and felt Pekka near me, he had turned into my life’s angel. We often reminisced about Pekka at home, and then grandma said that the jewelry would always speak to me about its wearer. Grandpa and dad lost their best fish- ing buddy and grandma a helper who was ready to help with fetching the Christmas tree and Midsummer birches so that grandpa did not have to go to the forest when dad was busy with work. I lost a loved one who I missed long and painfully. Pekka’s parents and sisters asked for long: Why?

The recorded cause of death was an attack of illness, a vein had suddenly burst in his head. I got a grandson 35 years after the incident. I have often visited the Ristikangas cemetery with him. When he was little I told him about all the loved ones who we brought flowers to. Little Pekka listened carefully and found those sleeping under the

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cemetery grass from our photo albums as soon as he learned to read. He won a Junior sailing competition on a small sailing boat at age 7.

Next Sunday is his Confirmation day. I will give him the Madonna medallion, which I would not give to anyone else because jewelry speaks of its wearer. (narratives)