Marjut “Pipa” Mantere: “You will always fly, even though your journey’s over; The stars will chart your sky and the moon will be your lover

Pipa Mantere, our dearly departed Finnish friend. Photo from July, 2011 in Helsinki

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A song to Pipa: Language of the Heart (Sung by Gordon Bok/Anne-Mayo Muir/Ed Trickett)

You will always fly, even though your journey’s over

The stars will chart your sky and the moon will be your lover

Fortune plays a lonely game that forces some to part

But here and there are much the same, in the language of the heart

You will always sail, even though the winds would leave you

Your ship will never fail and the sea can never grieve you

Fortune plays a lonely game that forces some to part

But here and there are much the same, in the language of the heart

You will always sing, though the melody lies broken

Your voice will always ring, though the words are never spoken

Fortune plays a lonely game that forces some to part

But here and there are much the same, in the language of the heart

You will always be, even though time would disown you

For you have set us free, those among us who have known you

Fortune plays a lonely game that forces some to part

But here and there are much the same, in the language of the heart

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Lifelong friends; I remember my father telling me that in life there are so few and on that, he was right. To lose one as near and dear to our hearts as Pipa, well it saddens us deeply.

We received a message this morning from Pipa Mantere’s son, Nels Cook, that Pipa died a week ago in Helsinki. Nels related that her worn out heart simply stopped beating. Besides the fact that we have lost a dear, lifelong friend, her passing marks – at least for us – the end of a whole chapter in Finnish history that ended abruptly when Finland joined NATO.

Although we (Nancy, myself, our daughters) were all close, Nancy and Pipa were especially connected, as the younger generation would put it today “bffs” (best friends forever). The two really were kindred spirits, nothing less. My sense is that for some young folks “bffs” last for a few months, a bit more; ours was a lifetime connection.

We met and worked with Pipa and became fast friends in the late 1980s when both Nancy and I worked at the World Peace Council headquarters, based in Helsinki, Finland at the time (late 1980s). It was a strange place in those days, just how strange perhaps I’ll write about some day, but we formed lifelong bonds with many of the people we worked with there – Johannes Pakaslahti, Mark Waller, Marjut Helminen, Marilyn Barden, Pierre and Alison Hugenin, Max Moabi, Tobias Thomas, Rino Gelmi, Juan Luis Moreno, the Cubans and of course Pipa herself.

Our friendship with Pipa endured the Gorbachev “perestrokia and glasnost” years, the collapse of Communism in Eastern Europe (1989), the implosion of the Soviet Union that followed in 1991, the thirty year period of U.S. global unilateralism and finally the Finnish betrayal of its historic neutrality which exploded into the void as it joined NATO recently.

Although our contacts with Pipa were not as frequent these past few years as they were previously, we stayed in touch, talking by phone, email and What’s Ap throughout the 34 years since our family left Finland permanently. There were visits to Finland where we reconnected and her two Denver visits over the years.  It never mattered how many months we lost touch, whenever we reconnected it was always an endearing experience.

Pipa’s life was hard, with much angst and personal pain and yet what a wonderful, warm, funny, instinctively humane positive person, a poetic spirit, not particularly pragmatic. Pipa is one of  two friends I’ve had whose very essence is poetic, meaning that as they walk down the street, sit in a cafe they simply cannot but recite poetry that touches what they are experiencing, feelling; it is a part of their psyche, nothing less. I have none of that in me but am drawn to those for whom poetry is an integral part of their make up.

Pipa was like that – always a poetic reference in Finnish, Swedish or English – a walking poem. Her understanding of poetry, music, literature oozed from every cell in her body. She leaves a son Nels with whom I hope we can remain in touch.

Sometime in the next few weeks when we can come together,  along with Molly and Abbie, we’ll take out photos of our dear friend, lift a glass or two to her memory, speak about how she touched our lives and … sing her spirit home.