Vieno Tuulikki Kolehmainen

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Vieno Tuulikki KolehmainenI recently checked out a few details with my Dad, about his mother – Vieno Tuulikki (born) Kolehmainen. I met my her only once in 1968, when she visited our family in England for a couple of weeks. I was 4 years old. She was a quiet, affectionate, frail old lady

This is what I’ve found out about Vieno Tuulikki Kolehmainen:

  • Studied Medieval English (probably at the University of Helsinki)
  • First son, dad,  born when she was 24 in Viipuri – 1933
  • Arrived in England 1934 aged 25 when her Lutheran minister husband was posted to Hull
  • Daughter born in 1937, died less than a year later in 1938
  • Vieno’s home in Hull bombed in 1941
  • Russia attacked Finland in 1939
  • Finland attacked Russia in 1941. England was an ally to Russia. Russia declared war on Finland and Vieno was included in the exchange of diplomats. Pressumably returning to Helsinki
  • Dad evacuated to safety with a family in neutral Sweden – Linkoping
  • Helsinki home was bombed one month after the birth of her second son – 1944
  • Returned to England 1947 – suffered from clinical depression
  • Returned to Finland 1948 – without her children – divorced 1950
  • Visited England in 1968 – stayed with dad and met her grandchildren – but never met her second son who refused to visit out of loyalty to his father – Vieno’s ex-husband
  • Died from a heart attack following slipping on doorstep ice in 1969

I see so many unanswered questions in this storyine….

Vieno Tuulikki Kolehmainen
rate wendys scribble

2 bits of lovely banter on “Vieno Tuulikki Kolehmainen”

  1. Eric Hamilton writes:

    The longer it is since my parents have died, the more questions about their life I have wanted to ask. It seems as though you are having a similar thing with/about your relatives. The real thing to do now is to start asking a bunch of questions, etc. about the rest of your family. “The sooner the better.”



    wendy writes

    Sorry for your loss Eric. Indeed I am trying to uncover some of the histories before Dad has reached a point where he can no longer share. I feel lucky to have my parents, in their late 70’s, happily pottering around – if irritated by my many questions and happy to hold court with the stories they remember….



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