Yiayia's Journey Part 11

The month of September, 1945 brought great relief to Yiayia's New Kensington, PA home. WWII had finally come to an end. And soon, a letter from Greece arrived with welcome but sobering news. The beloved mother and siblings Yiayia had left behind in Greece were indeed still alive. But a picture of her older sister revealed great suffering. Her stomach distended and her eyes hollowed, Calliope had nearly starved to death under Axis rule. And as Greece mourned a huge death toll, the people faced yet another tribulation. 

With the Greek economy devastated under Axis occupation, the task to rebuild would be a daunting one - and civil unrest was brewing. So as American soldiers returned home and working women left factories, Yiayia sprung into action. She'd gather clothing, shoes, and cash, then wrap them in cloth tightly sown with heavy thread. Little Tasso once remarked that "they look like giant American baseballs, Mama." Such measures were taken to ensure safe delivery. Yet Yiayia suspected theft was rampant and to her utter frustration, many of her care packages never actually reached her family. Nevertheless, she would send even more off again and again with hope and prayers. 

Meanwhile at Papou's "The Busy Bee" diner, business slowed as military customers returned home. And the local New Kensington crime family only exacerbated the problem. Running local prostitution, loansharking, and gambling, they also "taxed" most produce, meat, and goods needed for inventory. So one day in 1946, "The Busy Bee" served its last hungry customer and shut its doors. And with the end of that era, Papou looked forward to retiring. 

But such was not meant to be. As if the Great Depression wasn't hard enough, Papou and Giagia learned terrible news. Whatever savings they'd left secured in the Greek bank in their homeland had turned to ash. And now the long awaited reunion between Giagia and her beloved mother and siblings would face yet another agonizing delay.

Yiayia's Journey Part 12

After my grandparents lost savings in the post WWII Greek economy, the ever determined Yiayia would live by a new euphemism. Yes, "such was the life" - but for her family to adapt and to endure, they would "never put the chicken eggs in one basket again." And that was that. 

So while Papou settled into a new restaurant in New Kensington - "The Kopper Kettle" - Yiayia decided to wait tables there. And even though some diners assumed she was French and called her 'Fifi', somehow they didn't find her hair in their soup! Yet when it came to her children, Yiayia was far less lenient. By her insistence, all were duly employed by the age of 12. Daughters Chrysanthy and Anastasia as assistant librarians. Little Tasso as a junior custodian, then a future shoe-shiner, a paper boy, and a farm hand.

Yiayia's master plan? The harder the children worked, the more deeply they'd appreciate American education. And that was that. For after all, no one dared challenge Mama's grand vision. While some Greek mothers threatened the wooden "koutala" (spoon), Yiayia had only to bend, then bite her index knuckle - and that sign of displeasure quickly did the trick. 

And so when she decreed it was time SHE learn to drive, that was also that. Crammed into the back seat of neighbor Mrs. Miller's '39 Ford, the children battled carsickness while Yiayia battled the 4-speed stick shift. And when she declared the time -still- wasn't right to buy a family car, no one complained. After all, they'd always walked everywhere, so what were a few more years on their feet? So that was that. And when Mama insisted the children "just sign the bank card!" they did just that - and were later amazed to learn she meticulously tracked interest rates and used a stockbroker. 

And finally after a few more years, when Yiayia announced, "the moment has come" - no one uttered a word of dissent. For it had been 18 long years since Yiayia had left the shores of Greece to emigrate to America. And it was finally time to reunite with the beloved mother and siblings she'd left behind so very long ago. 

Yiayia's Journey Part 13

In 1951, the former peasant girl who had once only ever travelled by donkey would make yet another journey of a lifetime. Leaving the children with Papa, she delivered her standard "mis mas kanis rezili!" (do not bring shame to the family name) and that was that. The now more worldly Yiayia hopped a train to New York City, then boarded a cruise liner. Destination: Greece and the beloved mother and siblings she hadn't seen in 18 long years. 

And so after 12 days at sea, she finally set foot on Greek soil and set eyes on those beloved faces again - faces so achingly familiar, yet so very different now. Her mother Damiani had become an old woman, but her beautiful smile and loving arms bespoke the same tender feeling of home. And despite the years, she was still climbing pear trees, working the olive orchards, and generously sharing her bounty with fellow villagers. Pictures now adorned the walls of that same stone structure Giagia once called home. Photos of Tasso, Anastasia, and Chrysanthy ~ the grandchildren Yiayia's mother had never met yet greatly cherished. Damiani - my great grandmother - would kiss and pray over those beloved photos every night before she went to sleep inside that lonely cottage overlooking the Mediterranean.

Those lost years were perhaps even harder on Yiayia's siblings George and Calliope. Now also parents themselves - they bore the physical signs of those hard years under WWII Axis occupation. And so too did Yiayia's beloved native island of Kythera. After WWII life had slowed, buildings had crumbled, villagers had moved away, and her beloved donkey 'Keecho' had died. But "such is the life" and so Yiayia adapted, endured, and savored every moment of their reunion and the introduction of nephews she'd only ever known through letters. 

Meanwhile back in New Kensington, Papou received an angry letter from his family in Kythera. Still hostile toward Yiayia after all these years, they claimed she was having 'too good' of a time on the island. Well indeed she was--for she would reminisce about this long awaited reunion for years. It was certainly sweet, but would it ever be enough to compensate for all the years lost? 

And so when she tearfully boarded that return ship for America, she despaired--when would she see her mother again?  Happily a few years later, her daughters Chrysanthy and Anastasia would journey to Greece to meet the loving grandmother they'd heard so much about. And they too would be the recipients of her abundant love and eager hugs. But as Yiayia would painfully discover, she herself would never set eyes on or feel the loving arms of her beloved mother again. Such is the life.

Yiayia's Journey Part 14

After that long awaited family reunion in Greece, Yiayia began to embrace a new motto: "Change is good". Perhaps as that cruise liner raced back to American shores, she reflected on the evolution of her life, how truly vast the world had become. 

So upon her return, she urged Papou to buy their first family car -- a snazzy '53 Chevrolet Bel Air. She pushed her teenage children to choose a vocation or to pursue college. And she grew restless in the once bustling but now declining New Kensington, PA. So in 1953, she and daughter Chrysanthy hopped a Greyhound to visit Greek relatives in California and upon seeing that golden state, she declared, "This is IT!" This was the progressive place to be--and in her words, that was that. 

So upon her return to New Kensington, she announced the big news: The Conomos family must head west! And when Papou promptly bellowed "Oxi!" (NO!) - she informed him, "Change is good, Papa. And that is that!" So with the Chevy packed to the brim, Yiayia and her brood of children left a brooding Papou behind to tie up loose ends. 

They drove for days until Yiayia spotted a beacon-- the bright lights of a dazzling Reno, Nevada. "Let's spend the night here!" she declared -- and once inside the nearest casino -- promptly "attacked two slot machines at once"-- to Tasso's great shock. Indeed, at that very moment he came to a profound realization about his dear Mama. That peasant girl who had once only ever travelled by donkey was a relic of the past. In her place stood a truly progressive, westernized woman who had learned to adapt and to endure. 

And so after Yiayia eventually settled her children in San Jose, CA - a lonely Papou quickly followed. And then a new, beautiful era bloomed for the Conomos family. Life in California - with its golden peaks and familiar ocean shores - overflowed with promise and opportunity. But it wouldn't be long before tragedy followed.

Yiayia's Journey Part 15

By the year 1957, my grandmother Yiayia's great dream had finally come to fruition. Nicely settled in San Jose, California, the children were thriving. Chrysanthy - as a valued court clerk; Anastasia and Tasso - as proud college students at San Jose State University and the first of our family to attend college. Although Papou still dabbled in restaurant work, he mostly puttered around their new little pink home with the red door. 

It seemed at long last, the years of toiling in Greek fields and restaurant kitchens had paid off. And so a period of rejuvenation bloomed with blessings of new Greek Orthodox friends and frequent family sojourns to the beach. The nearby Santa Cruz shores seemed so wonderfully familiar that with a sigh, Papou would marvel, "Doesn't it look just like Greece?" But mostly, the former Greek soldier and the one time peasant girl found their greatest contentment simply strolling the neighborhood hand in hand. 

And so one spring morning, Papou grabbed his hat. Yiayia locked the door. And they ventured out together as they'd done so many times before. But when they reached Walnut Grove Street, Papou suffered a massive heart attack and collapsed. Frantic, Yiayia performed CPR as someone called for help--but ultimately it was too late. On that quiet, sunny morning of May 28th,1957, just four blocks from home, Papou died cradled in my grandmother's arms. When my father later arrived at the hospital and saw a weeping Yiayia clutching Papou's hat, he knew in that moment that his father was gone. 

A few days later the family bid a final farewell to their beloved Papa. As the funeral service concluded, Yiayia kissed Papou one last time - crying his name over and over. In that profound moment, my father truly understood the depth of their love: a devotion that had sustained them through the years of hardship and sacrifice they'd faced together in Greece and America. But now a widow at the age of 47, a heartbroken Yiayia would have to adapt and to endure on her own. 

For the rest of her life, she would never again set foot on Walnut Grove Street. Not one step. And in future letters to her mother in Greece, she would never reveal that she'd become a widow. Each letter described the Conomos household as if Papou was still alive. Always putting others first, she simply feared her beloved mother would die of grief and worry if she were to learn the truth.

But out of deep respect for Papou, she would continue to send money to his unappreciative, often unkind family in Greece. And in a final act of love, she would resolve to never marry again, though many suitors vied for her hand. To this very day ~ after 59 long, lonely years ~ Yiayia has remained eternally and faithfully devoted to the memory of my Papou. Such is the life.