A Half Finish Finnish.

Sister Heidi owns a flower shop in a quaint looking town that is mostly populated by Swedes not far from here. The cities water tower has been modified with a pour spout and handle and toll-painted to resemble a Scandinavian coffee pot. Blue and yellow, the colors of Swedins flag, adorn every paintable surface. Fire hydrants were granted special ordinances allowing them to sport the same color theme. All other hues used there are looked at with the same disdain as graffiti. Bulk herring is advertised in the local butcher shops window, as are krumkaka and ginger snaps across the street at the bakery. "Got Jul", or Merry Christmas, is spelled out in holiday lights at both ends of town as you enter during the month of December. You can't swing a dead cat for hitting a dala horse. There has been rumors of cross burnings on the lawns of those foolish enough to publicly admit to not being of Swedish descent. Citizens who are not flat brod (white bread) are run out on a rail. I know the night is coming when Sister Heidi will be working late at her shop and the local inhabitants will appear caring pitch forks and waving flaming torches to drive her away. The rival florist at its lead. Beauty (Sis) and the Beast (townsfolk). But Sister Heidi will be ready.

Sister Heidi is a byproduct of a mixed marriage. Her mum a half breed, was equal parts Swedish and Norwegian. Mumsy was prejudice against herself. "Grampa Eric, (who was a Swede), used to say,"You can tell those Norwegians, but you can't tell them much.""Those Swedes just don't know when to quit", Norsk Gramma used to reinerate. Sister Heidi's mum must have grown up hearing these phrases so often she would parrot them without thought. I wonder if she ever realized she was slamming herself.

Her dad was a full blooded Fin who didn't limit himself with prejudice. He flat disliked everyone who wasn't a Fin. But espescially the Russians. Dads family were members of the white death, an illete Finnish killing force during WWII. When the heavily armed and highly trained Russians invaded, Dads country successfully held off the well equipped communists without the benefit of a formal army using only hand made weapons. They earned their name, white death, from their viciously imorovised battle tactics. Dressed all in white to blend in with the snowy background, they would ski silently up to the Russians encroaching tanks that invaded their homeland borders and pour water on the solders who were inside. Water soaked, the Fins opposition would almost instantly freeze to death, saving even the price of a bullet, but gaining a fully equipped tank. Having only hunting rifles, Sis Heidi's ancestors invented the first rapid secession firing rifles. Loggers, who were born with an axe in their hand, would fell more than lumber using their tools of trade. Type in the word Fin into your search engine. Instantly you access a million suppliers of knives. Fins have an internal love of all things sharp and pointy.

Sister Heidi is proud of all three of her nationality's. She denies none of her heritage. But she has yet to hang a blue and yellow flag on her blommer shop. She is brazen enough to paint hers a neon green. She does not partake in the community's annual lutifisk dinners. No, strange forien aromas, like curry, waft through the shop. She plays an eclectic variaty of music during busniess hours. On Svetin Die Mi, there is no pole dancing, she down right closes up early and goes home. Her Suomi family name hangs challengingly in front of her store.

But they will come for her, oh yes they will come. Sister Heidi will be calmly designing something with orchids from the east, and tulips from down under when they do. With her calm Mona Lisa smile, she will swiftly fillet them in between heartbeats with her razor sharp and ever ready florist knife. Her wardrobe favors green. Watch out for any silently moving scrubery if you unknownly slight her. Make sure you stop by to admire her newly fertilized gardens on your passing. Ignore any one sided solo arguments you may overhear. Just stop and smell the blommers.