Even in this weather.
To be sure, I come from hearty stock. My maternal grandparents lived the majority of their lives in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, and I heard plenty of stories growing up of their childhood days. Teams of horses pulling rolling logs down the roads to pack down the snow in the days before snowplows, lunches freezing solid in syrup pails before getting to school, spit freezing in the air before it even touched the ground. Regardless of how many times I heard these stories, I still wanted to hear them. Not that I needed to be constantly reminded of how tough and resilient "my people" truly were, mind you... I just wanted to re-hear the tales over and over again.
A few years ago, I learned that there was a word for this...sisu.
We were visiting my brother's family over the Christmas holidays a few years back, and it was cold. I reveled in the glee I felt when I saw the thermometer dip to -22 F actual temp--probably -40 F ish "real feel" temp. We made ice lanterns on the deck, the nieces threw boiling water into the air to see it instantaneously turn into snow, and we hunkered down. It was awesome. That night, we decided to order out for dinner. It's not something that we do often when we are in their neck of the woods, because well, there aren't a ton of options in their small-ish town (also, we are all pretty good cooks). We decided to order out from the local Chinese-Mexican restaurant (now forever referred to as Mexanese or Chinacan cuisine). The food was so-so, but I distinctly remember getting an education that day about a very important word that has now become transfixed into my vocabulary.
Now, it should be said that my this part of my family lives somewhat close to the Michigan/Wisconsin border in Michigan's Upper Peninsula. I wouldn't exactly call it remote, but it doesn't take very long to get to remote places. The folks up there embrace their geographic setting--for the most part-- and there's a reason that they call it "Big Snow Country." The see a lot of the white stuff.
We went to pick up our dinner at the Mexanese restaurant, and while waiting for the cashier to get to us, we looked over a bunch of photos posted near the counter of a local winter festival that was being promoted. Dog sled races, polar bear plunges, all sorts of activities to promote an active winter lifestyle. What caught my eye, though, were T-shirts that most of the participants in the pictures were wearing over their snow gear. On the shirts, was the four letter word, "SISU."
When it was our turn to pay for our food, I asked the cashier what the word meant. She appeared to be a local, and spoke with the Yooper accent we are so accustomed to here in this state. At first, she was taken aback--
"You don't know what SISU is?"
"Nope, I can't say that I do."
Then she struggled to find a definition.
"Uh... I don't know... it's kind of being tough, uh... strong will... you know... that sort of thing. I guess I can't really put it into words. It's a Finnish thing. You must not be Finnish," she retorted in a matter-of-fact, but non-condescending way.
No ma'am. Swedish/German/Scotch/Dane to be exact. Heavy-handed on the Swede, though.
I had to know more. This woman had been polite enough to attempt to explain the sisu concept to me, but I really wanted to understand what that word meant. Digging deeper into the depths of some family members, and the Internet, I understood that no one can actually define sisu in a word or two. It is so many things:
Perseverance.
Courage.
Strength in the face of adversity.
Bravery.
Resilience.
Grit.
Fortitude.
Willpower.
Tenacity.
Persistence.
Sisu is complex, much like the folks that carry the trait. Regardless of us being Swedish instead of Finnish, I think "my people" have an abnormally large dose of it--at least I would like to think so.
I guess our no-grocery challenge is only a small part of this. As we near almost two months of not buying groceries, we have learned a lot about ourselves. We have learned to adapt. We have learned to go without. We have learned to be content with what we have, and that's what it's all about.
Make a meal from scratch. Split your own firewood. Grow, hunt, and harvest your own food. The simple life is a difficult one full of sacrifice, but often, I feel more satisfied when life is lived this way. I embrace the hard necessities in life probably more than one should.
It builds character.
--SH