Dogs behind the screen

Easter this year, is slightly insane. Americans, Greeks, Albanians, Brits, Persians and French all got together to celebrate the ressurrection.

We are roasting , lamb and goat as well as chicken and the traditional kokoretsi. There are 3 grills going strong and 7 guys working them, there is no common language, common gestures yes, common language, no. There is a common goal. The fires started at 9:30 this morning, various recipes are being argued, in no common language. The drinks are flowing, wine, beer, ouzo, and some other mysterious stuff. They seem to have found a common language.

The women are in the house making all the food and desserts to accompany the meats. A variety of vegetable dishes, and desserts that range from apple pie to all sorts of middle eastern favorites.

As the lamb gets done, the roasters try it as a meze, little pieces are cut off and offered around, after all there are 7 of them.
One very delapitated lamb is left, thank heavens we still have the goat.

At 3 in the afternoon, we are ready to eat, the serving table groans, we will all soon be groaning. Everything is wonderful, somebody forgot the potatoes and the tzatziki inside. Nobody notices.

The dogs are inside, watching through the screen door, they will get some later, in spite of my daughter's complaints.

Easter in Greece, a view of the sea, friends and family, roasting lamb, wine, food, music. The cries of Xristos Anesti from the next door house, the cracking of the eggs, the text messages on your phone that started at midnight wishing you a happy Easter, a true celebration.

I cannot imagine anything much better, except maybe an Alka Seltzer, and a nice long nap.

more things Pop said

When I was getting married, my wife to be prepared a dinner for my family to meet hers. It was the engagement party. My godparents came with the ring and an icon, my parents, my sisters and who knows who else. Her parents, grandmother, brother, aunt as well as a bunch of people were already there. A very big deal.

My wife’s parents were much younger than mine and her Mom was very beautiful. Pop’s first line when we arrive, was “Which one is yours?”

My poor wife had to prepare the meal, it was a test. Typical if you are Greek or from that part of the world. She actually had done it all.

Pop was the patriarch of the group, best chair, first drink, etc.

My wife had made dolmades. Grape vine leaves wrapped around rice, meat and spices. The leaves are packed in brine and have to be washed very well to get rid of the salt. She rinsed them lightly and prepared the dish. Her Dad, who was a chef, thought she rinsed them too well and had forgotten to add salt. He did.

My father is proudly served the dolmades first, since he was who he was, the patriarch. He takes a bite and put the dolma down. The whole room is looking at him expectantly. What is the verdict, will his son have a proper wife that can cook?

He looks up and says “The bride is very beautiful,” and refuses to eat the rest of the night. My wife is a great cook and she is very beautiful.

Look for something good to say, even if the dolmades are salty as hell.

Signs of love in an art supply store

I met my wife in foundation year at Pratt Institute. She was a beautiful, serene girl, looking artsy, but sophisticated. She sat a few tables away from me. She seemed aloof and wouldn’t talk to anybody; little did I know she was nearsighted.

I was really interested, but she was shy. I assumed she was involved. Over the next year or so, we chatted and she was part of a group of us that spent time at the Student Union.

Never asked her out.

I worked at Charlie’s Art Supply store, mornings and afternoons. I was smooth and the way I knew how to make a pass at this girl was to charge lower prices for her expensive choice of oil-based paint, based on the cheaper colors. It was getting her attention, charge for a small canvas when she gets a bigger one. I was moving in for the kill, or at least a date.

One day in the Student Union, one of the guys was coming on strong and insisting she go to the dance with him. I swaggered over and said to him, she cannot go with you, she is going with me and agreed the day before.
He backed off, and I gave her the option of going with me or not, since I knew he was getting her upset.
She turned to me and said she would go with me and was waiting for me to ask her out for the past year.

All my smooth moves in the art supply store, charging lower prices for paint; alizarin crimson for the price of white…were not needed, or were they what made me irresistible.

I will never really know in spite of what she tells me.

If you go to art school, get a job in the art supply store; it is great for picking up girls, as long as you can charge expensive colors with cheap color prices.

Easter in Greece #1

Our first trip to Greece was in 1964 when we went to visit my father’s sister and my cousins in Edipsos, Evia. My grandfather ended up there after they came from Asia Minor, obviously not by choice. We arrived the week before Easter, intending to stay a couple of days.
We had a rather ambitious travel plan and not much time. Naturally we were pressured into staying longer, at least until Easter.
We did not have many clothes with us as we had only planned to stay for a couple of days and had left everything at my Aunt’s house in Athens.
Friday we went to church and Saturday night we planned to go to church. I only had some casual clothes, and for Saturday I needed a suit. My aunt came up with one of mine that my mother had sent. At that time, 1960s, we in the States sent over clothes and other things to our relatives in Greece, every Greek American did it, so my suit was not that much of a surprise, even though I had looked for it at home before we left.
Mama was too fast for me and she got it, and sent it, probably since I hadn’t worn it for a while.
My wife, Jeannine, had enough clothes with her. Women pack more than men. So far, no great surprise.
We get to the church and Jeannine notices and recognizes lots of outfits, my sister’s, my mother’s, even my father’s suit. She even recognized an outfit that my sister had worn about a month ago. It seems that all the stuff my mother had been sending, was worn proudly and well, and put to good use. Everybody in town seemed to be wearing very familiar clothes.
My favorite pink and white shirt was on the Mayor. I looked for it before we left the States, but Mama was too fast for me again.
Naturally we felt even more at home. We met family for the first time and felt reassured by being surrounded by our clothes from the States. To this day whenever and if we go to church, I always see if I can recognize any of the outfits, but those days are gone forever. 

Greece, will always remind me of our first holiday, when we truly felt at home and discovered some of our roots.
Although, seeing your family’s clothes 3000 miles from home is a unique experience.

Lambadas on the subway

As a kid in Brooklyn, Easter and holy week were pretty important and the services were very impressive.
Whenever friends, who were not Greek Orthodox came, they found the services amazing.

Getting the holy flame home after midnight mass was a bitch. None of the Greeks from Coney Island, then, had cars.

Transport was the subway. The church was off of Kings Highway, that stop was at least 6 to 7 stops from Stillwell Ave., Coney Island. Our stop.

Getting on the train with a flaming lambada, usually with 10 other Greeks all with their lambadas, was not easy.

Not too many subway employees were Greek, so we could not use connections. We used distraction, pleading, some even attempted to hide a flaming 2 foot candle under their coats. Somehow enough of us got on the train with lit lambadas, so everybody relit theirs and we hoped no subway cop would show up, chances of them being Greek were nil.

We usually made it to Coney Island with lambadas blazing. Next, the 3 block walk home, at 2 am. with the wind from the ocean blowing like crazy, was the hardest part. No miracles to still the wind, or even 10 minutes of calm, till we made it home.

I usually made it home and the flame was kept burning for 40 days in the iconostasio at home.

Now, after 60+ years, I have a confession to make. When I did not make it and the candle blew out, I relit it with a match. I am not sure if it is a mortal sin or even a regular sin.
Nothing disastrous ever seemed to happen.

Sorry Momma.

The wonders of Greece

This will be an ongoing series.

Went to get new tires for my Lexus SUV. Local dealer convinced me to get tires made in Finland, great for rain, snow, etc.
When they come, we check them and they are made in Russia. I jokingly say it must be on the border between Finland and Russia.
He calls the distributer who tells us it is on the border, but most of the factory is in Finland.

Being in advertising all my life I have to admire the rationale.

Love it, the wonders of Greece, and Greeks.

Things Pop said

My Father had a unique way of seeing things. His comments were funny and very perceptive, basically one liners.

A waiter that worked for us at the store asked Pop for a raise. Pop asked how much he made in tips at his tables. The waiter told him that he made $27 in tips, Pop looked at him and said that he was fired, and to leave right away. I was shocked and asked Pop why? He said your sisters work those tables and make $38 in tips and Mom made $42 on the same tables. He is either a bad waiter or a liar, either way we do not want him here. Fast, sharp and too the point.

Another time, the world series was on, it was 3 games all, the door to the store was open and the radio was on. For some unknown reason Pop was a Pittsburgh fan, I never found out why. They were playing in the series, God knows how they made it (Google it and let me know the year).
A guy comes running in to the store, very excited and asks Pop, who was winning. Pop removed his cigar from his mouth and sadly said "the other team", the guy ran out shattered. I asked Pop if he knew the guy, he said he never saw him before. How could you tell him that, Pop said it is only a game, and he shouldn't take it so seriously.
Sad but very funny, "the other team", love it.

Years later I showed my father one of my first ads. He looked at it and since it was a photo, he knew I hadn't drawn it. Did you take the photo, he asked, no I said it was my concept, my layout, no, I didn't write the copy...he asked me what they were paying me, $200 a week I said (pretty good money then) he paused, looked at me and said "do not tell anyone".

He managed to put things in perspective, always.

His comment when I told him I was transfered to London, great job, lots of money, a directorship, all the perks, I was really excited and pretty much full of myself. He looked at me and said "couldn't get a job in America?" People came from all over the world to work in America, and his son could not get a job in America.

God, he saw things in a flash, straight to the point.