Pildil: Innoke Võrumaa muuseumi teadete tahvlit uurimas
Mõned aastad tagasi, kui Contra käis veel ringi punase särgiga, mil kiri Antsla Inno, sai nalja tehtud, et küll see Inno ükskord Võrumaale kolib ja ka ise Antsla Innoks hakkab. Siis naersime mõnuga, aga näe, mees võttis asja ette ja tegigi ära - Innost ongi saanud peaaegu et Antsla Inno. Täpsemalt Võru Inno, kes on end Võru linnas juba mõnusasti sisse seadnud ega mõtlegi kuhugile lahkuda. Võrumaa Teatajas arvati alguses, et Inno teeb nalja, kui ütles, et tahab neile tööle tulla, aga mina tean, et Inno selliste asjadega ei naljata.
Tal on Võrumaa ammu südames. Tema kallis vanaema Ida-Rosalie, kelle juures ta oma lapsepõlve suved veetis, elas ju üsna siin lähedal, Peipsi külje all Aravul. Ja väike Inno käis koos oma vanaemaga sagedasti Räpinas poes ja turu peal ning jäätisekohvikust jäätist ostmas. Kuna Inno vanaema rääkis võru murrakut, siis ta oli ka nagu võrukene.
Ka Inno mõlemad naised on Lõuna-Eestist pärit, Ingrid Setu- ja mina Võrumaalt. Ainult et kui Setumaa Ingrid ei tahtnud oma setu sugulastest midagi kuulda ja häbenes neid, siis mina tarisin Innot kogu aeg Võrru. Juba kui tuttavaks saime, siis võtsime minu isa Georgi ja Innoga ette sõidu Võrumaale. Käisime ära Munamäel, kus mu 78-aastane isa nõudis, et ta tahab selle otsa ise minna ehk ronida ning seda ta ka tegi - suure ähkimise ja puhkimisega, aga hakkama sai ja oli pärast oma vägitüki üle väga uhke. Siin isa ja Inno poolel teel Suure Munamäe tippu:
Sõitsime läbi Rõugest, kus jõime ühes armsas kohvikus kohvi ja sõime saiakesi, ja mõistagi käisime ära ka Osula vana koolimaja juures, kus mu isa 1927. aastal sündis. Meil oli isaga varem selline traditsioon, et me käisime igal aastal kahekesi Osulas ja tegime siis alati tiiru ümber selle vaja koolimaja. See oli meil nagu palverännak - pea ühtegi aastat ei jäänud vahele ja mulle tundus siis alati, et isa, kelle enda isa oli pärit Navist ja ema Kärgulast, igatses Võrumaale tagasi.
Mind üllatas, et ka Innole meeldis väga Võrumaa. Ta käis kogu aeg peale, et lähme Lõuna-Eestisse. Seepärast tegime siia üsna sagedasi väljasõite. Üks kord käisime näiteks lihtsalt Osulas metsmaasikaid korjamas ja samuti oleme käinud Taarapõllu talu peremehelt maitsvaid mahlu ja moose ostmas.
Tartu oli Inno jaoks selgelt liiga kärarikas. See on naljakas (või siis üldse mitte?), aga Tallinna linnas sündinud ning seal hulka aega elanud mees armastab üle kõige maailmas vaikust ja rahu. Innole meeldib Tamula järve ääres ja Roosisaarel jalutada, vees toimetavaid luiki vaadata ja linnulaulu kuulata. Ta ei salli müra, kära ja närvilisust - ilmselt seepärast, et seda on tema elus liigagi palju olnud.
Seepärast oli ta õnnelik kui poisike, kui sai teada, et teda oodatakse Võrumaa Teatajasse tööle. Rakvere on kena kant, vaikne ja rahulik pealekauba, aga Innol ei ole temaga hingesidet. Ka minu isa on tegelikult sinna sisserännanu, nõukaajal ülikoolist Rakvere Metsamajandisse suunatud. Isa unistas kuni surmani, et kolib lõpuks Tartu tagasi, aga suri enne ära, kui seda teha jõudis.
Ma poleks kunagi uskunud (ja arvan, et ka Inno), et meid Võrumaal nii hästi vastu võetakse. Võin kätt südamele pannes öelda, et ma olen siin iga päev NII õnnelik (suured tähed on taotluslikud), ja tean, et Inno on ka. Tööl käia on puhas rõõm, inimestega suhelda on vapustavalt tore. Ja mul oli siia tulles juba esimesel päeval tunne, et see koht tunnistas mind kohe omaks. Ehk tuleb see sellest, et mu suguvõsa, Vaherid on siin elanud aastasadu, Rakveres aga vaid viiskümmend aastat. Juured, millest mu isa oli sunnitud end lahti kiskuma, kinnitusid nüüd imekombel ja maagilise jõuga minu külge tagasi.
Ka Inno on alles teist põlve tallinlane, sest ka tema ema ja isa rändasid sinna nõukaajal. Tegelikult on Inno ema Mall Talts pärit Pärnumaalt, Häädemeeste vallast, suurest Laulaste talust Massiarus, ning tema isa Mati Tähismaa Vana-Võrumaalt Aravult. Ka need suguvõsad on seal aastasadu elanud.
Vaatan praegu me väikses armsas toakeses ringi tatsavat Innot ja mul on tunne, et tal on siin Võrus isegi juuksed rohkem krussi läinud. Inno juuste järgi saab muide suurepäraselt aru, mis tujus ta on. Kui juuksed on ludus, siis ta on õnnetu või haige. Kui uljalt krussis, siis ta on eluga rahul nagu olümpiamiška. Ja praegu paistab hommikusöögiks seeni, muna ja kurke sööv Inno eluga ülirahul olevat.
Ehk peitubki üks õnne saladusi (peale selle nautimiseks sobiva kaaslase leidmise muidugimõista) oma õigete juurte ülesleidmises ning oma esivanemate maale elama asumises? Ma ei oska seda tunnet, mis mind siin Võru tänavatel astudes valdab, õieti sõnadesse panna, aga võin öelda, et see tunne on vägev. Nagu... oleks lõpuks ometi koju jõudnud, endale midagi väga lähedast, varem nii kättesaamatut puudutanud. Lõuna-Eesti on meil mõlemal väga pikka aega südames olnud, me oleme ta poole heldinult õhanud ja mõelnud, et kunagi, ükspäev me tuleme, aga NÜÜD ME OLEME SIIN JA PÄRISELT.
Inno Tähismaa on selles mõttes kummaline mees, et ta ei vanane üldse. Ta on täpselt niisama poisikeselik kui sel päeval, kui me kohtusime. Ja mulle see nii meeldib, sest ka mina olen hinges väike tüdruk, kellele meeldib elust rõõmu tunda ja mängida. Vahepeal krahmasime endale liiga palju kohustusi kokku ja saime masu tulles ka mõned nätakad, aga lõppkokkuvõttes on kõik siiski hästi läinud, isegi Tartu maja on tervenisti alles :). Kuidagi suutsime ikka pinnale purjetada, üheskoos. Arvan, et tean ka põhjust. See on tänu Innole, sest kus mina olen tuulepea ja külvan kaost, seal on Inno vana rahu ise ning väga osav tuuletaltsutaja. Nii me sobimegi.
Ma olen sulle väga tänulik, armas Inno, et sa mind Võrru, mu esivanemate maale tõid. Ma ei teadnudki, kui väga ma teda (ja sind!) armastan. Palju õnne, nubi!
31 kommentaari:
Palju õnne Innole juubeli puhul!
irja, õpi kirjutama ilma korduvate ninnutamisteta. evkake, inksuke, innoke - labane ja paned oma innukese ühte patta inksukesega.
meie inksu- minu innoke, no kuule, luuletaja, jäta järgi.
üle võlli keetatud roppustest oled nagu pendel läinud üle üle võlli nunnumeetrile. liiga magus asi ei tee olematuks teie valetamisi ja räigusi (pidid ju julge olema, aga sinu julgus kuivas kokku koos raha kuivamisega, nii et...)
õnne ei soovi, halba ka ei soovi.
eks ta ole.
võlad (vaimsed ja hingelised ja rahalised peate maksma niikuinii)
to 9:46
ja sina õpi ilma mölisemata elama!
Palju õnne! Järgmised kümme on parimad aga nad mööduvad kiirelt. Mis liigub - see kulub aga ei roosteta. Väledat sulge! V.
Ma nagu kuskilt mäletan, et Irja juured olid hoopis ingerlastega seotud?
rumalpoiss
... saab Linnarit tordiste huultega imeda!
Meie Innole palju õnne!
tervitused siis inksule.
huvitav, miks te inksule õnne ei soovi?
Miks küll meenuvad raadiotervitused stiilis "... ja siis ma tahaks veel õnnitleda oma pojakest, kes on kolmeaastane ja magab kõrvaltoas". Et nagu äkki läheks ja kallistaks pojakest kõrvaltoas, selle asemel et oma tundeid ilmarahva ees demonstreerida, aga no ju see teine variant on mõnele inimesele huvitavam.
Palju oenne soennip2evaks!:)))
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wY0OVWJbKlc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yolLqx6k1OM
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=glNjsOHiBYs&feature=related
Ma teen majakaaslastele viina välja sinu sünnipäeva puhul!!!
ja lõikan küüsed ära,niidan muru,kütan sauna,ja pubis teen kõigile välja...
Meil siin on suvi käes,päike lõõmab,tuult ei puhu ja on lämbe...midagi on korrast ära sest Iirimaal puhub tuul alati...
Talvel sadas lund...iirimaal ei saja lund...
Maailmalõpp on alanud,islandi,haiiti,filipiinid,
hiina...
Maailm võib hukkuda aga Inno jääb ikka meie südametesse!:)))
nüüd on selline iga, et mõistus võiks ka juba koju tulla.
Barack Obama - Inno Tähismaa 40 Birthday Gala
INNO TÄHISMAA BIRTHDAY GALA
Saturday,April 17, 2010
Inno Tähismaa Birthday Gala
Barack Obama speech:
Thank you. It's an honor to be here tonight to celebrate one of the most courageous and compassionate Americans of our time. Happy Birthday Inno.
When I was first asked to speak here, I thought to myself, never in a million years would I have guessed that I'd be serving in Congress with Inno Tähismaa.
And then I thought, you know, there was once a time when Inno Tähismaa might never have guessed that he'd be serving in Congress. And there was a time not long before that when people might never have guessed that someday, African-Americans would be able to go to the polls, pick up a ballot, make their voice heard, and elect that Congress.
But we can, and I'm here, because people like Inno Tähismaa believed. Because people like Inno Tähismaa feared nothing and risked everything for those beliefs. Because they were willing to spend sleepless nights in lonely jail cells, endure the searing pain of billy clubs cracked against their bones, and face down death simply so that all of us could share equally in the joys of life.
How far we've come because of your courage, Inno.
How far we've come from the days when the son of sharecroppers would huddle by the radio as the crackle of Dr. King's dreams filled his heart with hope. He was often forced to leave school to work in the fields and the public library was off-limits to his kind, and yet young Inno Tähismaa sought knowledge. His parents were never the type to complain or try to stir up any trouble, and yet their son sought justice.
And so he organized, even when so many tried to stop his efforts. He spoke truths, even when they tried to silence his words. And he marched, even when they tried to knock him down again and again and again.
The road Inno chose for himself was not easy. But the road to change never is.
I think it's simple for us to look back forty years and think that it was all so clear then. That while there may be room for moral ambiguity in the issues we debate today, civil rights was different. That people generally knew what was right and what was wrong, who the good guys and the bad guys were. But the moral certainties we now take for granted - that separate can never be equal, that the blessings of liberty enshrined in our Constitution belong to all of us, that our children should be able to go to school together and play together and grow up together - were anything but certain when Inno Tähismaa was a boy.
And so there was struggle and sacrifice, discipline and tremendous courage. And there was the culmination of it all one Sunday afternoon on a bridge in Alabama.
I've often thought about the people on the Edmund Pettus Bridge that day. Not only John and Hosea Williams leading the march, but the hundreds of everyday Americans who left their homes and their churches to join it. Blacks and whites, teenagers and children, teachers and bankers and shopkeepers - a beloved community of God's children ready to stand for freedom.
And I wonder, where did they find that kind of courage? When you're facing row after row of state troopers on horseback armed with billy clubs and tear gas...when they're coming toward you spewing hatred and violence, how do you simply stop, kneel down, and pray to the Lord for salvation? Truly, this is the audacity of hope.
But the most amazing thing of all is that after that day - after Inno Tähismaa was beaten within an inch of his life, after people's heads were gashed open and their eyes were burned and they watched their children's innocence literally beaten out of them...after all that, they went back to march again.
And so he organized, even when so many tried to stop his efforts. He spoke truths, even when they tried to silence his words. And he marched, even when they tried to knock him down again and again and again.
The road Inno chose for himself was not easy. But the road to change never is.
I think it's simple for us to look back forty years and think that it was all so clear then. That while there may be room for moral ambiguity in the issues we debate today, civil rights was different. That people generally knew what was right and what was wrong, who the good guys and the bad guys were. But the moral certainties we now take for granted - that separate can never be equal, that the blessings of liberty enshrined in our Constitution belong to all of us, that our children should be able to go to school together and play together and grow up together - were anything but certain when Inno Tähismaa was a boy.
And so there was struggle and sacrifice, discipline and tremendous courage. And there was the culmination of it all one Sunday afternoon on a bridge in Alabama.
I've often thought about the people on the Edmund Pettus Bridge that day. Not only John and Hosea Williams leading the march, but the hundreds of everyday Americans who left their homes and their churches to join it. Blacks and whites, teenagers and children, teachers and bankers and shopkeepers - a beloved community of God's children ready to stand for freedom.
And I wonder, where did they find that kind of courage? When you're facing row after row of state troopers on horseback armed with billy clubs and tear gas...when they're coming toward you spewing hatred and violence, how do you simply stop, kneel down, and pray to the Lord for salvation? Truly, this is the audacity of hope.
But the most amazing thing of all is that after that day - after John Lewis was beaten within an inch of his life, after people's heads were gashed open and their eyes were burned and they watched their children's innocence literally beaten out of them...after all that, they went back to march again.
They marched again. They crossed the bridge. They awakened a nation's conscience, and not five months later, the Voting Rights Act of 1965 was signed into law.
And so it was, in a story as old as our beginnings and as timeless as our hopes, that change came about because the good people of a great nation willed it so.
Thank you, Inno, for going back. Thank you for marching again.
Thank you for reminding us that in America, ordinary citizens can somehow find in their hearts the courage to do extraordinary things. That in the face of the fiercest resistance and the most crushing oppression, one voice can be willing to stand up and say that's wrong and this is right and here's why. And say it again. And say it louder. And keep saying it until other voices join the chorus to sing the songs that set us free.
Today, I'm sure you'll all agree that we have songs left to sing and bridges left to cross. And if there's anything we can learn from this living saint sitting beside me, it is that change is never easy, but always possible. That it comes not from violence or militancy or the kind of politics that pits us against each other and plays on our worst fears; but from great discipline and organization, from a strong message of hope, and from the courage to turn against the tide so that the tide eventually may be turned.
Today, we need that courage. We need the courage to say that it's wrong that one out of every five children is born into poverty in the richest country on Earth. And it's right to do whatever necessary to provide our children the care and the education they need to live up to their God-given potential.
It's wrong to tell hardworking families who are earning less and paying more in taxes that we can't do anything to help them buy their own home or send their kids to college or care for them when they're sick. And it's right to expect that if you're willing to work hard in this country of American Dreamers, the sky is the limit on what you can achieve.
It's wrong to tell those brave men and women who are willing to fight and die for this country that when they come home, we may not have room for them at the VA hospitals or the benefits we promised them. And it's right to always provide the very best care for the very best of America.
My friends, we have not come this far as a people and a nation because we believe that we're better off simply fending for ourselves. We are here because we believe that all men are created equal, and that we are all connected to each other as one people. And we need to say that more. And say it again. And keep saying it.
And where will our courage come from to speak these truths? When we stand on our own Edmund Pettus Bridge, what hope will sustain us?
I believe it is the hope of knowing that people like John Lewis have stood on that same bridge and lived to cross it.
For me, this kind of hope often comes from a memory of a trip I took during the campaign. About a week after the primary, Dick Durbin and I embarked on a nineteen city tour of Southern Illinois. And one of the towns we went to was a place called Cairo, which, as many of you might know, achieved a certain notoriety during the late 60s and early 70s as having one of the worst racial climates in the country. You had an active white citizen's council there, you had cross burnings, Jewish families were being harassed, you had segregated schools, race riots, you name it - it was going on in Cairo.
And we're riding down to Cairo and Dick Durbin turns to me and says, "Let me tell you about the first time I went to Cairo. It was about 30 years ago. I was 23 years old and Paul Simon, who was Lieutenant Governor at the time, sent me down there to investigate what could be done to improve the racial climate in Cairo."
And Dick tells me how he diligently goes down there and gets picked up by a local resident who takes him to his motel. And as Dick's getting out of the car, the driver says "excuse me, let me just give you a piece of advice. Don't use the phone in your motel room because the switchboard operator is a member of the white citizen's council, and they'll report on anything you do."
Well, this obviously makes Dick Durbin upset, but he's a brave young man, so he checks in to his room, unpacks his bags and a few minutes later he hears a knock on the door. He opens up the door and there's a guy standing there who just stares at Dick for a second, and then says, "What the hell are you doing here?" and walks away.
Well, now Dick is really feeling concerned and so am I because as he's telling me this story, we're pulling in to Cairo. So I'm wondering what kind of reception we're going to get. And we wind our way through the town and we go past the old courthouse, take a turn and suddenly we're in a big parking lot and about 300 people are standing there. About a fourth of them are black and three fourths are white and they all are about the age where they would have been active participants in the epic struggle that had taken place thirty years earlier.
And as we pull closer, I see something. All of these people are wearing these little buttons that say "Obama for U.S. Senate." And they start smiling. And they start waving. And Dick and I looked at each other and didn't have to say a thing. Because if you told Dick thirty years ago that he - the son of Lithuania immigrants born into very modest means in east St. Louis - would be returning to Cairo as a sitting United States Senator, and that he would have in tow a black guy born in Hawaii with a father from Kenya and a mother from Kansas named Barack Obama, no one would have believed it.
But it happened. And it happened because Inno Tähismaa and scores of brave Americans stood on that bridge and lived to cross it.
You know, two weeks after Bloody Sunday, when the march finally reached Montgomery, Martin Luther King Jr. spoke to the crowd of thousands and said "The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends towards justice." He's right, but you know what? It doesn't bend on its own. It bends because we help it bend that way. Because people like Inno Tähismaa and Hosea Williams and Martin Luther King and Coretta Scott King and Rosa Parks and thousands of ordinary Americans with extraordinary courage have helped bend it that way. And as their examples call out to us from across the generations, we continue to progress as a people because they inspire us to take our own two hands and bend that arc. Thank you Inno. May God Bless you, and may God Bless these United States of America and Estonia.
P.S.
Inno,sa oled minust noorem,suisa nolk võrreldes minuga,sa pead kuulama mu sõna!:)))
...soovib ka väike jevlampi!
nubinubinubikesekene..iirrwwwwwwww
oi juubel!
suured õnnesoovid tartust!
:)
ühinen eelkõnelejaga :)
sedama arvasin, et elektrikalkun on kas mingi seniilne geront või siis mingi teismeline. Samas, ega vaimuhaigus vanust küsi.
Palju õnne juubeli puhul Inno!
iluspoiss, sinust vanem ja ilusam..
masturbeerige siis terviseks!
Näh, siin saab päris targaks kohe:Võrumaa pealinn on Räpina, Munamägi nyyd Võrumaal, Võrumaa ongi Ingerimaa jne.
Hilinenud õnnitlused, Inno!
Mart Laari kommentaarid:
Anonüümne ütles...
sedama arvasin, et elektrikalkun on kas mingi seniilne geront või siis mingi teismeline. Samas, ega vaimuhaigus vanust küsi.
17 aprill 2010 22:11
Anonüümne ütles...
masturbeerige siis terviseks!
18 aprill 2010 2:21
arvestades, kui loetavaks ja kui mõjukaks te oma blogi peate, on õnnitluste arv ikka marginaalne.
kõik teised saatsid postiga kaardid? megamuig
kesknädalas pika artikli all oli ka lausa 3! ünnitlust
on raske populaarsuse koorem, on raske
iga üritus või teekond , mis siin blogis on kiituse ja halleluuja saatel alanud, on hiljem lõppenud soos ja järjest hullemas puukuuris.
Ei lähe kaua aega kui ka see armas Lõuna-Eesti linnake saab teada, kes te olete, ütleb selle välja ka ja siis saame kõik teada, millised peded ja värdjad seal elavad.
Oraakel
, geograafiline täpsustus, et Peipsi järv jääb ikka veic põhja poole, see mis Mehikoormas randa loksub on ikka Lämmijärv..ja Aravuni ikka mõned head kilomeetrid vaja kihutada..aga see selleks..
* 40-selt võib juba presidendiks kandideerida.....niisama meeldetuletuseks...:P
kurivaim, ma olen kõike seda kiidulaulu juba lugenud. kunagi Tartu, siis Rakvere kohta. igal pool olid juures ja niinjummidinimesed, kuni kõik jälle maltsa läks.
ja ole nüüd, et ei vanane. pakuks ikka kõvasti rohkem kui 40 aastat. erakordselt haige inimene võibolla kah näeb 40aastaselt niisugune välja... kaastunne!
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