Yiayia's Journey Part 6

In late 1936, hope bloomed once again in my grandparents' little New Kensington, Pennsylvania home. Yiayia gave birth to another baby girl. And in another show of respect to her dear mother, they named her 'Anastasia' - after Yiayia's oldest sister who died as a baby back in Greece. Though their grief was still fresh from losing their own baby Damiani, Anastasia brought much needed solace and joy. That joy multiplied in 1938 with the arrival of my father, Anastasios John Conomos. They named him after my Papou's father in tribute, but would call him "Tasso" from then on. 

So with the family circle now complete, life fell into a routine that still often challenged the immigrant family. Nearing the end of the Great Depression, Papou still labored around the clock at 'The Busy Bee' diner. Yiayia saw to the children, especially little Tasso who hobbled around the house in leg braces. And ultimately, she relied on the pluck she'd honed in that tiny Greek village to see them through. 

Always enterprising, she once encountered an alley cat toting a fish in its mouth, presumably swiped from a diner nearby. Well in no time, she wrangled the fish from the cat, threw it on the stove and then served it for dinner! At their little home, Greek Orthodox icons - a spiritual guiding light - adorned their walls. American newspapers - a practical learning tool - covered their table. Perhaps together they symbolized Yiayia's greater intent: to create a blend of both American and Greek culture, of new and old country for her family. 

And so while she cooked Mediterranean dishes, she spoke both Greek and broken English at home. And she used every trip to church, the market or a neighbor's home to study American culture, then share her insights with the children. But all the while, her heart ached for Greece and the beloved mother and siblings she'd left behind. Yet as always, "such is the life" and so she took on her next challenge -- sending the first of her children to American public school.

When it came my father's turn to enter 1st grade at 'Third Ward School', he would recall Yiayia's zeal for education. In her trademark Greek accent, she proudly told his teacher, "This is my son Tasso. You can spank him anytime." Ever determined, Yiayia would see her children receive the kind of education she never completed in Greece. And that one day little Chrysanthy, Anne, and Tasso would journey to a big school called "college" where boundless opportunities surely awaited. But before that dream could come to fruition, the family would face a new threat. Trouble was brewing overseas. World War II had reached the shores of Yiayia's beloved Greece. And with dread, Yiayia realized the fate of her dear mother and siblings would become one of frightening uncertainty.

Yiayia's Journey Part 7

The spring of 1941 marked the start of a challenging new period for my grandparents. Fortunately on the homefront, little Chrysanthy and Anastasia were transitioning well to American public school; 3-year-old old Tasso was adjusting to wearing leg braces to correct his bone growth. But the threat of war loomed over the country Yiayia now called home. And even worse, the atrocities of World War II soon arrived on the shores of her beloved Greece. 

With the Axis invasion and subsequent occupation no one could leave Greece. And no mail could move in or out. So my grandparents scoured every American newspaper. And the English words Yiayia was learning to decipher painted a frightening picture. (Photos courtesy of Getty Images.)

Enemy forces were committing unspeakable atrocities against Greeks on the mainland - killing them in hangings, massacres, and through systematic starvation. Although Greek civilians formed one of the most effective resistance movements in Occupied Europe, uprisings were met with swift and brutal reprisals. For a single German soldier killed, scores of Greek civilians would be murdered. 

The Allies fought to end the occupation, but their extensive bombings also destroyed once beautiful port cities. And while it was a valiant fight to the end, Crete ultimately fell to enemy forces as well. Conditions grew even more dire as the Axis powers turned their focus on the Jewish population in Greece. They began mass deportations, sending the Jews of Thessaloniki and Thrace in packed box cars to distant German death camps. 

Many Greeks tried to help their fellow Jewish countrymen hide or run, but ultimately Greece fell into an even deeper sense of despair. Separated by thousands of miles, Yiayia and Papou despaired of any word of the family they'd left behind. But none came. And suddenly the fate of Yiayia's beloved mother in Kythera and siblings in Athens became one of depressing, terrifying uncertainty. 

Yiayia's Journey Part 8

In 1944, World War 2 raged on. And like many other European countries, Greece remained occupied by Axis forces with the fate of Yiayia's family woefully uncertain. Axis forces were killing Greeks in the mainland at an alarming rate. But life on Yiayia's native island of Kythera - in the southernmost tip of Greece - would not be as deadly. Kythera wasn't an industrial port so there were few bombings and uprisings. 

But enemy forces damaged roads, bridges, forests, and natural resources which created terrible hardships for the Kytherians. They looted homes, confiscating food, weapons, and anything of use.  The German army commandeered Papou's ancestral home where he andYiayia once lived, forcing relatives to live elsewhere. They used the upper floors as an observation post and the main floor as a stable for their horses. 

As another conquest strategy, the Germans decimated the Greek economy by counterfeiting currency. The drachma became worthless. And with no money to buy food, the Greeks had to rely on bartering, the black market, or whatever the island could produce. By the thousands, my grandparents' countrymen and fellow Kytherians were starving. And Yiayia could not help but fear -- were her beloved mother and siblings among them? 

As she would later discover, her mother Damiani was largely, mercifully, left alone. Her modest stone cottage in the mountainous village of Agia Anastasia proved little temptation to the enemy. So Damiani was left to use her gift of growing to produce the mainstays of Kytherian fields: olives, almonds, figs, and grapes. Her goats provided milk and cheese, the chickens and their eggs a source of protein.

Yiayia's mother would then share her bounty - scarce as it was - with fellow villagers who would have otherwise gone without. For that selfless act, her fellow peasants would revere Damiani for her wartime kindness and sacrifice. And her family would dub her "the indomitable Damiani." For there is no doubt that Damiani taught her daughter - my Yiayia - that "such is the life''. And so as Damiani gracefully demonstrated - the human spirit had no choice but to adapt and to endure. 

And soon Yiayia would be forced to do just that yet again. Because even as she despaired for her loved ones in Greece, she had a new worry to consider. Just before 8 a.m. on December 7th, 1941, hundreds of Japanese fighter planes attacked the American Naval Base at Pearl Harbor. And the next day, President Franklin D. Roosevelt asked Congress to declare war against Japan. That declaration passed with just one dissenting vote.  More than two years into the conflict, the United States would finally join World War II. The sleeping giant had awoken. And the America my Yiayia had come to love would never be the same again.

Yiayia's Journey Part 9

On December 7, 1941 Yiayia and Papou stood in their New Kensington, PA kitchen - stunned as they listened to their RCA Victor radio. The Japanese had attacked Pear Harbor. And they agonized - how could such a thing happen in this great land of promise? Finally, the sleeping giant they'd come to love would enter World War II. And so Yiayia and Papou looked to a man they revered for guidance and comfort: President Franklin D. Roosevelt. In his Fireside Chat on December 9, he urged the nation to prepare to make sacrifices.

Yiayia and Papou were eager to meet that directive for three reasons: 1) Their countrymen in Greece were suffering unspeakable atrocities under Axis occupation. And the fate of the beloved mother and siblings Yiayia had left behind was still achingly uncertain. 2) As the below pictures illustrate, Papou fought in WWI on the northern borders of Greece. Wounded by enemy gunfire, he would never forget the mammoth vitriol of the formidable Axis. 3) Patriotism - Yiayia and Papou were incredibly proud to be Greek Americans and would do anything for the country they'd come to love. 

So as the American economy converted to war production, they hunkered down. Too old to join the military, Papou worked at "The Busy Bee" now open 24/7. "Rosie the Riveter" became a symbol of patriotic womanhood that deeply resonated in their bustling industrial town. Many of Yiayia's new friends went to work at the mainstay of the New Kensington economy: The Alcoa aluminum plant. Yiayia still tended home and hearth, but like her neighbors, she created a "Victory Garden" to help alleviate food shortages. 

As the country faced intense price controls and rationing, she taught daughters Chrysanthy and Anastasia to recycle everything: rags, paper, string, and metal scrap for the US military effort. One day, my father saw Yiayia peel the label off a metal can, then flatten it with her foot. "Why are you doing that, Mama?" he asked. She simply replied, "So they can make battleships, Tasso." And he marveled--how in the world can a battleship be made out of cans? Well, Yiayia was about to teach him even more about wartime sacrifice. 

Over the next four years she would send little Tasso in his Junior Commando uniform - badge, stripes and all - out into the neighborhood. Ever the disciplinarian, she'd caution--"Mi mas manis rezili" (do not shame the family name). And so pulling his red wagon, Tasso ventured door to door to collect newspapers and cans of lard (later used to produce explosives); Yiayia then deposited them in the nearby recycling center. And such was the norm until one day Tasso witnessed something haunting. 

At the nearby railroad station, large wooden crates were being unloaded. He later asked, "What were they, Mama?" And so, like many American mothers, Yiayia would explain a painful new reality. In her native Greek language she said, "Some soldiers are coming home, Tasso. They didn't make it. Many of them were our neighbors." As Yiayia had learned from her mother and would now pass on to her son ~ "such is the life" ~ and thus Americans had no choice but to adapt and to endure. Yes, Yiayia and the countrymen she'd come to love would grieve together again and again. But soon a loss would come ~ one that would be more symbolic and momentous than anyone could imagine.

Yiayia's Journey Part 10

In 1945, life was evolving in my grandparent's New Kensington, PA home. Yiayia vigilantly oversaw the family wartime routine - enforcing nightly curfews, blackouts, and practicing air raid drills. "The Busy Bee" restaurant was booming with the constant stream of hungry military personnel. Chrysanthy, Anastasia, and now Tasso were thriving in the American school system. And while Yiayia couldn't help them with their homework academically, she imparted invaluable lessons in hard work and sacrifice.

With her typical "Mi mas kanis rezili" (do not bring shame to the family name) - she'd send her brood to after school scrap drives. She helped them buy 10 and 25 cent stamps for their war bond booklets that, when full, could be exchanged for a $25 war bond. And amid rampant food shortages, she'd toil in her "Victory Garden", then share her bounty with neighbors in need. As she journeyed door to door, her gaze invariably fell to the inspirational but often painful symbol that adorned so many windows: War Service Flags. As she would learn, blue stars indicated a loved one's military service. Gold stars marked the ultimate sacrifice -- a fallen son or father. And more and more, Yiayia would see gold -a devastating reminder that "such is the life". The Americans she'd come to love were struggling to adapt and to endure as well. 

But a seed of hope soon emerged. Despite the death toll, the Allies made historic headway in the Battle of Normandy. That April, American troops liberated their first German concentration death camp (Ohrdruf). And while there was still no word of the beloved mother and siblings Yiayia had left behind, parts of Greece were being liberated. Yiayia and Papou suddenly dared to hope--could the end of this terrible conflict finally be in sight? But a few days later, their hope shattered as they stood by their kitchen radio. Their beloved President Roosevelt -- the man Yiayia prayed would ultimately free her loved ones under enemy occupation in Greece -- had suddenly died. As 7-year-old Tasso watched from the hall, Yiayia despaired. Papou wept. It was the first time he'd ever seen his father cry.