Yiayia's Journey Part 20

In 1964, the indelibly feisty, ever enduring, and always evolving Penelope Conomos faced a new loss: the death of her beloved mother. The once indomitable Damiani had succumbed to heart disease back in her homeland of Greece at the age of 78. Her great voice forever silenced, Yiayia had no choice but to adapt and to endure alone.

But ever wise, she renewed her laser focus on life's blessings. Now widowed for 7 years, she relished the role of doting grandmother to daughter Anastasia's two girls. She and firstborn daughter Chrysanthy forged even deeper bonds with neighbors and fellow Greek immigrants. And above all, Yiayia remained far from idle. She labored at the nearby food processing plant by day, then waltzed and fox trotted the evenings away. 

Perhaps she imagined her mother gazing down upon that dance floor with a smile. For like generations of other Greek mothers, Damiani had passed on the sanctity of that beautiful art form to Yiayia. She believed that to dance - be it Greek folklore or classic ballroom - was to feel alive. And 'the life'--with all its imperfections and hardships--was always to be celebrated.

And so yes - in addition to her personal evolution, the former peasant girl remained true to her island roots. Each week, she'd toil in her vegetable garden, pluck fruit from her trees, and mow her lawn. Without Papou to maintain their home, no job became too difficult, no task too large. After all, the indelibly feisty and fit Yiayia - so used to Greek bartering and wartime conservation - reasoned: why pay someone to do what she could accomplish herself? So it came as no surprise when Yiayia developed a lifelong passion for her ladder and a worrisome obsession with cleaning the gutters of her little pink home with the red door.

And so for years, her children never argued that particular point with their do-it-all matriarch. For they recognized that Yiayia's need to provide and to protect fueled her very determination to adapt and to endure. With Papou long dead, Yiayia wished to bestow this incredible gift: that her children would never taste the bitter hardship that had been her constant companion.

And to her utter joy, a few years later Yiayia received a gift of her own that exceeded her wildest dreams. The former peasant girl who'd never surpassed a 3rd grade education became the proud mother of an academic. After years of dedication and hard work, her son Tasso - my father - would graduate SJSU with a Bachelor of Science in Geology. He would then earn a Masters in Geology. And then accept a fellowship at the Smithsonian in Washington DC. And finally, he would earn his doctorate in Oceanography at the University of Washington. Little Tasso ~ the boy who hobbled around in leg braces, then became a shoe shiner, a farm hand, and a junior custodian in those passing tender years ~ would ultimately become the respected Dr. Tasso John Conomos.

But while he pursued that path at U of W, something monumental also happened. An intriguing grad student caught his eye. She was also a first generation American ~ the daughter of immigrants from Lebanon. And she was beautiful. Her name was Janice and she was about to change Tasso's life and my Yiayia's world forever.