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Chapter 1
Introduction Of My Family Period 1954-1980
On the crisp autumn day of October 8, 1954, I entered the world in the heart of Turku, a city that would forever be etched in my memories. The Heineken hospital, where I drew my first breath, was more than a mere birthplace. It symbolized my beginnings, a place that would always hold a special place in my heart.
We lived in a small town called Partanen, which had little to discuss at the time. There was a big open mine, and they got chalk from there, which they later processed into cement. Cement was the only industry at the time.
A small port and ships arrived from Poland, Germany, and other countries, giving the locals extra income from smuggled spirits and cigarettes. Back in the day, you needed a permit to buy alcohol, and there were restrictions on how many bottles you could buy per month. The alcohol was sold through the Government monopoly shops all over Finland. The name is ALKO, which still exists today but is more of a business. The profit is used for recovering people with alcohol problems and some other Government programs they have issued in later days. It is a very controversial way to do business.
Everyone knew the people selling alcohol at the time; when we grew up, they were like heroes. Remember when they had a fishing vessel at the small shipyard with a double keel full of 96 percent alcohol or other Vodka, such as Polos from Poland?
My parents, diligent individuals, were forced to work on the farm, because they lived in a small house owned by my grandfather. My father was an Orphan, and my grandfather chose him because they did not have children and, of course, some needed to continue the family heritage. And my grandfather could not see it go to the relatives after his death. They did not have any relationship with their siblings. To date, we know almost nothing about our real grandfathers or grandmothers. I remember she sent my father a carpet once; the color was handmade and blue. When she died, I just listened when my parents dis- cussed the case. Many stories were about my father’s biological father. My grandfather was always the person people thought was the birth father. We have never investigated that, but it would be nice to know. He was also the owner of the shipyard, a position he relinquished after a suspected fire, selling it to cover insurance money. They redirected their efforts to the nearby factory, which produced roof tiles. His friend, a long-time worker at the factory, also partnered with my grandfather and worked for a low salary, which led to a bitter end to their friendship.
When the tile factory ended production, the buildings slowly fell because they were not maintained. People stole all they could use and crushed the windows, and the buildings were abandoned for many years.