Saturday, July 9, 2016

A small step forward

Until now I had read of no actual cases in which someone was arrested and charged under a criminal complaint with violating federal law by refusing access to a service dog team.

Most such unhappy encounters are handled quietly by the U.S. Justice Department and state civil rights offices, and are usually settled with the offending party agreeing to be educated on the law as well as to sin no more.

Now a criminal penny has at last dropped.

According to the Associated Press, a Uber driver in Orlando, Florida, was arrested and charged the other day for two misdemeanor infractions. He allegedly refused service to a blind man and his guide dog, and in driving away jostled the blind man with his car. (No injuries reported.)

The two charges: Violating Florida civil rights laws about service animals—and battery.

I doubt that the cops would have charged the driver with refusing service (both a federal and state offense) if he hadn't bumped the blind person. Usually they inform offending parties of ADA responsibilities and if they agree to change their ways, the matter is dropped and nobody's nose is out of joint.

Whether this case will actually go to court remains to be seen. If that happens, I'll wager the magistrate will drop the service-dog case if the Uberman shows contrition. I don't know about the battery charge. If the driver persuades the judge that he didn't intend to strike the blind man, he may get off with probation and a small fine.

That won't be a bad thing at all. The best outcome of these newsmaking cases, in my opinion, is widespread publicity that educates businesses and everyone else about ADA protections for people with disabilities. Including stories like this one out of Orlando.

Monday, July 4, 2016

Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork!

Taking a short week's cruise in the Caribbean is a lot more complicated when traveling with a service dog. For Trooper, I must obtain not only routine paperwork but also items specific to almost every port of call—even if we'll be ashore there only six to eight hours.

We start with an international animal health certificate issued by the U.S. Department of Agriculture. Fortunately, my vet in Evanston is USDA-certified and knows how to fill it out and get it stamped by the USDA. There are boxes for immunizations and the like. The vet knows about my trip and will give Trooper a checkup and provide the certificate a week or so before we go.

Before then, I must contact the animal services departments of each island on my own.

The first port of call will be Grand Turk in the Turks and Caicos Islands. They're very tough on furry visitors, for the islands are rabies-free and want to keep it that way. As well as the international health certificate, they require that the animal be microchipped (Trooper already is) and that it undergo expensive blood titer tests for possible rabies. If the animal's paperwork is not in order, it must quickly depart—or be euthanized.

I've decided we'll  stay aboard ship instead of jumping through those hoops and maybe having to deal with difficult Turks and Caicos officials, as attested to by several comments on pet travel Web sites.

Next comes San Juan in Puerto Rico, a U.S. commonwealth. The international health certificate is sufficient for us to go ashore. No titer test necessary.

Entering Sint Maarten is a little more complex. It requires that the health certificate and evidence of vaccination be sent to its agriculture department well before arrival and an import permit issued for the animal. No charge, though.

Half Moon Cay is wholly owned by Holland-America, the cruise line we're taking, but we still need a Bahamas import permit, which costs $15 and expires ten days after it is issued.

The voyage itself is only a week long, but Trooper and I have to leave Chicago on the train exactly 11 days before the permit expires. I'm not sure we'll land at Half Moon Cay unless I'm able to persuade the Bahamians to issue a one-day extension.

All this gives me new respect for human members of service dog teams who take long international cruises to dozens of countries and have to deal with all that paperwork and officialdom.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

For a service dog, the smallest room on a ship . . .

A 2013 photo of a service dog relief station aboard Holland-America's Westerdam.
. . . is the little wooden enclosure, filled with turf or mulch of some kind, provided on an outside deck for his plumbing comfort.

After Googling the subject, I see that most dogs will not take to such a facility right away and will need to be trained in its use.

And so this weekend, after we return to our summer cabin, I will go to the lumber yard for a couple of 1x8s and the garden store for a bag of mulch or wood chips, and construct a 4 foot by 4 foot (the size used on Holland-America cruise ships and most others) comfort station.

Trooper's training in its use will begin forthwith.

Only four months remain before we stand out to sea from Fort Lauderdale for the Caribbean aboard the Nieuw Amsterdam. I booked the trip today.

Going, we'll take the train (the Capitol Limited to Washington, then the Silver Meteor to Fort Lauderdale. Returning to Chicago, we'll fly. I'm seriously thinking about springing for a first-class seat on American so that Trooper will have room to lie down rather than ride all the way in my lap.

Sixteen pounds of restless terrier on one's legs for two and a half hours? No thanks.

Monday, June 20, 2016

Trooper's vacation

Last night Debby and I returned from two weeks touring Iceland and picked up Trooper at son Conan's house.

We couldn't take him along on the trip because Iceland, a country very careful about the critters it allows over its borders, said Trooper would have to spend 30 days in quarantine at Keflavik airport. His status as a service dog in the United States made no difference.

We'd arranged—and paid for—the trip well before Trooper came to live with us last December. Similarly, we'd also booked a week's trip last January on VIA Rail's Canadian from Vancouver to Toronto, but we canceled that one on the suggestion of his trainer. She said it was too soon in our budding partnership to subject the dog to the stresses of travel while at the same time he and I were learning how to work with each other.

So: Did Trooper forget his training? Did he bond with Conan's family and turn his furry back on Debby and me?

No and no.

When we picked him up he greeted me with the same exuberant Facebook-video joy a returning soldier gets from his beloved pooch.

This morning we tested him on his service-dog tasks, alerting me to various sounds and leading me to their sources, and he aced every one.

After six months, Trooper and I are at last a team.

This dog seems to be extraordinarily adaptable, taking new experiences in stride. We've taken him on train trips to the Southwest and East Coast. He now divides his time between suburban Evanston and wilderness Upper Michigan, switching easily between city dog and country dog.

Our next mutual adventure very likely will be a November flight to Florida, then a week's Caribbean cruise to see how he adapts to shipboard life. As Debby and I get deeper into our seventies, cruising may take up more of our travels.

Cruise lines accommodate service dogs with four-by-four, wood-chip-filled "comfort stations" built on an outside deck. It may take a little effort to get Trooper accustomed to transacting his business in such a strange contraption, but if his recent history is a guide, things will go well.

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

'Season's Revenge' spawns a detective story

Originally published in the Ontonagon (Mich.) Herald, June 1, 2016

By Henry Kisor 

Who would have thought a tiny news clipping from an Ontonagon Herald of 1931, inserted into a mystery novel published in 2003, would result 84 years later in the reunion of two long separated Finnish families—one in Green, Michigan, and one in Finland—and the rediscovery of some of their lost history?

Karoliina and Simon Talikka
The story, nurtured over the years by the dogged detective work of Doug Karttunen, a native of Green and a historian of the town, begins in 2001 when I was researching Season’s Revenge. I found a brief item in an old Herald about a group of Finnish immigrants enticed to return to Soviet Karelia during the Great Depression.

I put the clipping into Season’s Revenge. On page 111 appears this paragraph from the fictional Porcupine County Tribune:


“Mr. and Mrs. Simon Talikka, Mr. Arthur Weser and sons Arthur Jr. and Elmer, and Henrikki Heikkila, who have lived at Greenfield for several years, left Thursday for Kontupohja, United Soviet Social Russia.

“A farewell party was given for them at the Farmers’ Hall at Greenfield Monday evening.”

Except for one, the names of the emigrants are real. All I altered was the name of the paper and the name of the town, Green. “Henrikki Heikkila” is a fictional character I added to support a motive for murder involving a subplot of the novel.

That subplot involved the historical reverse migration of more than 10,000 struggling Finnish farmers from Upper Michigan, Minnesota and Ontario to Karelia, a Finnish-speaking Soviet province next door to Finland. Most were never heard from again, presumably having perished during the Stalinist purges of the late 1930s. Many of their American properties were abandoned for taxes, sold to greedy land speculators or fought over by embittered relatives—giving rise to a possible motive for murder.

One day in 2009 I sat down at the computer to the following email (slightly abridged). It was from Kevin Levonius in Gilroy, California.

Arthur Wesa
 “I was shocked,” Levonius wrote, “when reading your book Season’s Revenge when I came across the section that talked about Karelia and Simon Talikka, Mr. Arthur Weser and sons Arthur Jr. and Elmer . . .

“Your fictional story was non-fiction to me. I have been searching for decades trying to find out what happened to my missing relatives that went to Karelia from Green, Michigan. They are Simon Talikka, Arthur Wesa [the 1931 Herald had spelled it Weser] and sons Arthur Jr., Elmer, and Eero. I find your story more than coincidence. Simon Talikka and his wife took in (unofficially adopted) Arthur’s boys shortly after Olga (Arthur’s wife) died. Arthur also lost a very young son named Onni.

Olga Wesa
“I pray that you might have some information on my missing relatives. After Simon Talikka and Arthur Wesa and the boys went to Karelia, we lost contact with them in 1936.

 “Mayme Sevander’s book Of Soviet Bondage has a listing of wartime labor camp victims, one of which is ‘Vesa, Arthur; from Green, Mich. US 1931’.

“The last time anyone heard from Arthur and the boys was in a letter written by Simon Talikka in 1936.

Simon wrote that he was no longer living in Karelia, but rather in the Ural Mountains “digging gold, working in a gold mine. Wesa [Arthur] stayed with his boys in Karelia. They are working there in the woods. Young Paavo [Walter Wesa] was a teacher in Tunkua.” [Tunkua is a town in the northern part of Karelia].

Simon also wrote that his first wife was still alive, and that “I left her in Karelia, and took another, younger one. This one gets along well with the Russian language, had been a teacher for 9 years there in Karelia, and is 35 years old.  A gorgeous person.’ ”

Levonius concluded: “This was the last piece of solid evidence that Arthur and the three boys were still alive. I would appreciate any help you can provide.”

He also posted a photograph of the Wesa boys, along with pictures of Arthur and his wife, Olga.

The Wesa boys: Left to right, Onni, Eero (variously Anglicized as Elmer or Erik), Lauri (Lawrence), Paavo (Walter or Paul) and Viljo (Arthur Jr. or William) in a photograph of the Wesa children.  Onni died young, Eero, Paavo and Viljo went to Karelia with their father, and Lauri stayed behind in the United States.
I had to tell Levonius that I had no further information on his family, but that I would post his letter on my blog ( in the long-shot hope that someone researching the Karelia period might know what happened to the Talikkas and the Wesas and would discover the blog during a Google search.

To Levonius’ post Doug Karttunen commented the same day:

“I dare say most of the original Finnish ‘Greenfield’ families will have a relative or two in their genealogical closets that were caught up in the ‘Karelia Fever.’ Sadly, almost none of the adult men of those that went there survived Stalin’s purges during the late 1930s or the Winter and Continuation Wars with Finland that followed. Except for a small number who managed to escape from the Soviet Union, almost all were shot or imprisoned. Most of the wives and children were, however, spared the fate of their menfolk. Many of these (or their descendants now) still live in Russia, having survived a very difficult life.”

Leena Kurra
Doug was writing not only as a historian but also as a citizen with skin in the game. A great-uncle of his who had also emigrated to Karelia, he said, was sentenced to prison in 1938 for unspecified crimes against the state. In typical Russian bureaucratese, he was “rehabilitated” in 1996 after Mikhail Gorbachev allowed records of the Gulag to be made public. The great-uncle’s demise is unknown, but Doug suspects he was shot or starved in prison.

On August 19, 2012, three years after that blogpost, Toivo Talikka, now of Nottingham, England, happened upon the blog and added this comment:

“If his age in 1936 was around 50, Simon Talikka could be Simo Matinpoika Talikka, born 19 Sept. 1885 in the Tervajärvi village of Jaakkima municipality in Karelia. My own family was evacuated from the same region in 1944.”

Toivo Talikka provided the link to an item in a website that lists, in Russian, names of victims of the Soviet terror in the 1930s. One of them “is likely to be Simo Talikka, based on the year of his birth and his father’s first name.”

Translated, the link reads:

“Semyon Matveevich Talikka, born in 1885, locomotive engineer Ormedzoloto [a mining organization], lived in Kuvandysky municipality, Ratiyanka province.
 “Sentenced to three years by the NKVD to Orenburg region, October 14, 1938.
 “Verdict: Rehabilitated in October, 1989.
“Source: The Book of Memory of the Orenburg region.”

“These times,” Toivo Talikka continued, “were extremely tragic for immigrants and people with ethnic backgrounds in Russia. According to the archives, around 8,000 people of Finnish origin were executed, and out of 143,000 Poles, 111,000 were shot.”

The same day in 2012, Doug read Talikka’s comment and responded:

Lillian Bolo McCaffrey
“Yes, these are one and the same Simo Matinpoika Talikka [‘Simo Matinpoika,’ or ‘Simo, Matthew’s son,’ and ‘Semyon Matveevich’ are the Finnish and Russian for the same name.] Their birth dates and places match. Simo left Green to go to Karelia in October, 1931, along with his wife Karoliina. They had no children of their own, but were accompanied by three neighbor children whom they had helped raise after their mother died.”

What’s more, Doug said, he owns the actual 1936 letter from from Simon Talikka that Levonius quoted—and its return address is from Orenburg.

Those children’s Finnish names, Doug added, were Viljo (Arthur Jr.), Paavo (Walter) and Eero (Elmer) Wesa. The original Herald article of 1931 had omitted Walter’s name.

“Simon had an older brother, John Talikka, who also lived in Green,” Doug continued. “John and his wife Mary had several children, and descendants of theirs still live in the area. I am assuming, Toivo, that you may be related to these Talikka brothers. If you are interested, I probably can put you in contact with some of the family members still living in the U.S.A.”

On May 15, 2016, almost four years later, Doug posted this comment on the blog: “A couple of weeks ago I received an email out of the blue from a lady in Finland who apparently had come across the blog while searching for long-lost relatives, spotted my comment about the Talikka brothers, and decided to get in touch with me.”

She is Leena Kurra, who lives in Hankasalmi in central Finland. Born in 1940, she is the granddaughter of Eva Talikka (1870-1950), who was Simo and John Talikka’s sister. Eva did not emigrate to America but remained in Finland. She was mother to Leena’s father Onni Kilpiö.

In her email, Leena told Doug how the family in Finland kept up with their many Talikka relations in the U.S. until 1951, when Onni Kilpiö received a letter from Oscar Strang in Ontonagon revealing the death of Strang’s stepdaughter Vieno Talikka in 1950. (Strang had married Mary Talikka after John died in 1928, and they continued to live on the Talikka farm in Green until her death in 1953.)

Then the Americans and the Finns lost touch with each other.

Chart by Doug Karttunen. Click on it to view larger.
Sixty-five years, a phone call and a few emails later, the two families were at last reunited: with Doug’s help Leena Kurra established contact with Lillian Bolo McCaffrey, who was born in Green and now lives in Alabama.

Lillian is the daughter of George Bolo, who, Doug writes, “lived at the far south end of the Halfway River Road up until the early 1960s. George married Vieno Talikka, the daughter of John Talikka (and thus niece of Simon Talikka).”

A few of George and Vieno’s descendants still live in or about Ontonagon, and several more out of the area, Doug said.

Is Toivo Talikka of Nottingham related to Leena Kurra? Not directly, she thinks, but Toivo wrote that his father was born in the same municipality, Jaakkima, in Karelia, suggesting that there may be a distant connection. Doug is presently searching for it.

So there we have it, thanks to the power of the Internet and the longing of far-flung members of two families to find their missing relatives.

If anyone who reads this article has new information about the Talikkas or Wesas, please send an email to either or

Wednesday, May 25, 2016

Political Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Up here in impoverished rural Ontonagon County, Michigan (Porcupine County in my novels), there seem to be almost no roadside political signs in front of homes along the streets and highways. Yesterday, in the eleven miles between Ontonagon village and Silver City to the west, I counted just three properties with Trump signs and one with a Bernie banner. The biggest sign was for the incumbent sheriff, running for re-election.

In the past, Ontonagon Countians have been as involved and as passionate in their politics, whether Republican or Democratic, as citizens of anyplace else in the rest of the United States. You used to know the allegiance of just about every one of your neighbors just by what they put out on the lawn, never mind fervent barroom and cafe wrangles. The local weekly used to be full of letters ripping a strip off the Other Side. People used to be engaged.

True, the conventions have yet to happen, but it seems that folks up here in the boonies—and, I bet, most of the rest of the country—are heartily sick of the politics of 2016. Both Trump and Hillary seem highly unpopular. (Bernie not so much, but I wouldn’t call him a shoo-in either.)

My conversations with the locals have led me to the admittedly unscientific conclusion that the election cycle has become so long, so intense, so hateful, so full of at best dubious and at worst outrageous statements that people throughout the political spectrum are suffering from extreme campaign fatigue.

Makes me wonder if voters here and maybe everywhere will either sit out the presidential election or trickle to the polls holding their noses, voting against the candidate they either like least or dislike most. There seem to be no positives to vote for.

Things could change between now and November. But I don’t think so. I think we will just see more and more of the same.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Some time ago I happened across the amusing cartoon above. It bears more than a grain of truth. Authors are a dime a dozen but everybody loves dogs.

That notion has been percolating in my mind for a while.

When my little service dog Trooper came into my life, that notion resurfaced—and gave me an idea for book promotion. The resulting poster is below.

We'll see if it works. I'm betting that it'll double the modest sizes of my audiences.