Yiayia's Journey

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 onc e 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 tha

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 morni

In the spring of 1957, the one time peasant girl turned westernized woman assumed a new, unexpected, and ultimately unwelcome role: that of a widow. As my Yiayia had learned so many years ago from her beloved mother in Greece ~"such is the life" ~ and so one had no choice but to adapt and to endure. But now she would do so alone - in a new city still intimidating in its unfamiliarity - and beside three devastated children in need of her wisdom and grace.   Grief-stricken and overwhelmed, she was dearly afraid. She once shared with me that she had a vision of Papou the night after his death. He was standing in their bedroom and upon seeing that blessed face once more she begged him,  "Please, let me go with you." But Papou's spirit replied, "Oxi. No. It is not time yet. You must stay and take care of the children." And so a grieving yet stoic Yiayia determined to do just that.   On an early summer morning in 1958 - she exchanged her standard