On my desk, there’s an envelope addressed to Santa Claus, on its way to Korvatunturi, Finland. Inside, there’s a handwritten letter.

“Dear Santa,
I would be really happy if I got the following things. (NB: All items are Lego). “

The items are listed by category – Harry Potter, Prince of Persia, Toy Story, Power miners, Atlantis, Racers, Space Police, Star Wars, and “Other stuff” – with a product number next to them, neatly copied from a Lego catalogue.

On the bottom of the page, it says “turn”, on both sides of the letter, then signed by Son.

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There are few things that make me as happy as seeing Son and Daughter take care of each other. Being an only child, I’ve never had that connection with anybody. On the other hand, having always been just me is the only way I know, so I’ve never really missed it, either.

(Although, Mom likes to tell the story about me hugging our dog, and whispering into his ear my joy about getting a new pair of skates for Xmas.)

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Today, I wrote a piece for the International Ice Hockey Federation, about how players returning to Europe sometimes don’t meet the expectations. The transition from one team to another, let alone from one country to another, and from one league to another, can be difficult, and sometimes the high expectations the club management, the fans, and the player himself, aren’t met.

I should know. I was that player once.

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“When I grow old, I want to be just as fit and stylish as Grandpa”
– Son, September 17, 2010 at the Museum of Natural History

As long as I can remember, people have told me that I look exactly like my father. Of course, I don’t, and of course, I can’t see it, but since so many different people - including Wife - say it, there must be something in it.

Not that I mind it. Not one bit.

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So, the news came out today: Link.

Now, when Mr. Pakarinen feels all uncomfortable and awkward about something, who does he call? Me, that’s who. So:

Let it be known to the world that Mr. Pakarinen, your resident writer, has won third prize in the column category of the Pearl Awards, a competition organized by the Custom Content Council, the leading association for the custom publishing industry in the United States.

That's America, people.

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Helsinki in November is not exactly chicken soup for the soul. If we assume that today was an average day - and why not - it’s safe to say that on an average day, you can’t see the sun at all. Helsinki is dark, it’s gray, it’s wet. It’s cold.

Then again, it’s one of the best little cities in the world. Because it’s mine.

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“Prrrhkkkkhhhhh!”
– Son, making an explosion sound, Nov 9, 2010.

The one thing that always annoyed me with Buster, the excellent sports comic book that had its heyday in the 1970s, was that there was never any hockey. I remember only one series, and it was short-lived. They might have had a hockey player on the cover, and I’d only realize that there were no hockey stories inside after I had bought that and 20 other comic books at the second-hand store around the corner from Dad’s work.

But I loved Buster. Johnny Cougar (Puuma in Finnish), the wrestler, was cool, Hot-Shot Hamish (Super-Mac) funny, Billy Dane (Benny Goldfoot in Finland and Sweden, a boy who became a fantastic soccer player whenever he wore Jimmy "Dead Shot" Kean’s old boots) exciting, Buster himself silly, and the club pages full of interesting trivia.

And then there was Roy Race.

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Traveling with a family of four means that there will always be special sleeping arrangements. At hotels, we need a pull-out sofa or an extra bed, and when staying with friends and family, we’ll just have to make do with whatever is there.

If there’s only one king-sized bed, in our family, that means that I will sleep on the floor.

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When I got the job as trainee at the Swedish custom publishing company what now not only seems like a long time ago, but is a long time ago, I didn’t really know what I was hired for. The five of us, varying in age and sex - two guys, three young women - had different backgrounds, which was the whole purpose of the exercise.

The company was ultrainternational, ultranational, with representatives of over a dozen different nationalities on staff. The times were good, we had nice offices across the street from the Royal Palace in Stockholm, and we were a pretty hot ticket in town.

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To You Pakarinen
I am DUANE COKER, the Personal Attorney to a Foreign Contractor, who
worked with a Multinational Oil Firm here in Cotonou Benin republic.
On the December 25, 2003 , my client,Engr. B. J Pakarinen ,a national of your country,an oil Merchant /Contractor with the Federal Government of
Benin,He died along with his entire family of a wife and two children in
airplane Boeing 727 ghastly Air-Crash.
For more about the Air Crash you can visit the CNN web news.
Until his death few years ago on one have call me or ask me anything as his Brother or Sister,
Before his death, he had an account with the bank valued at five Million Five hundred thousand dollars ( 5.5 M USD) at his Bank in Benin here.

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Tässä Leijonat-lehdessä ilmestynyt tarina vuoden 1974 kotikisoista ja siitä kuuluisasta "puupronssista".

Lataa pdf tästä (pdf)

Dad was proud. He was beaming in the back, but I knew he really wanted to rush to the front, get on the stage and tell the world I was his son. And, it’s not that he was afraid to do that, it’s just that he didn’t enjoy that kind of attention. I knew that he knew that I knew, if you know what I mean.

Now, had I shat in my pants during my show, had I lost a brick or something, I know he would have been the first one up there to help me, and he would have completely ignored the rest of the world. That’s what Dads do, I suppose.

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