When you grow up Greek, you grow up differently-especially in the culturally rich city of New York. Mike Pappas was born just after the start of World War II to parents who left Greece seeking a better life. In this memoir, he recalls his boyhood adventures in vivid detail, sharing memories that are sad, bizarre, insightful, and fun. Growing up in New York City and being a first-generation Greek immigrant was an adventure in and of itself. It was a time everybody remembered and treasured. Mike Pappas recalls his family's quirks and the many old traditions he tried to adhere to but often failed to carry out. Caught between two worlds, he enjoyed the best of both of them. Here are the varied experiences of Lent and Holy week and hidden aspects of Greek Orthodox life that are woven into everyday life. Explore two worlds and discover-or relive-what it means to grow up as a Greek American. This memoir is full of insight, enthusiasm, and honesty about what it was like Growing Up the Greek Way in the Big Apple.
Growing Up the Greek Way in the Big Apple
By Mike Pappas iUniverse, Inc.
Copyright © 2011 Mike Pappas
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4620-0069-2 Contents
Acknowledgments......................................viiChapter 1 Time Waits for Nobody......................ixChapter 2 You're Only Young Once.....................1Chapter 3 My Holy Side...............................12Chapter 4 Still Growing Up...........................21Chapter 5 A Learning Experience......................40Chapter 6 New Additions..............................57Chapter 7 New Adventures.............................60Chapter 8 Still Learning.............................66Chapter 9 My Adolescent Years........................73Chapter 10 The Years Roll By.........................84Chapter 11 New Lessons in Life.......................95Chapter 12 Getting Away..............................122Chapter 13 My Life Changes...........................128Chapter 14 Back to Reality...........................144Chapter 15 Payback...................................148Chapter 16 New Changes...............................151Chapter 17 A New Lifestyle...........................160Epilogue.............................................164
Chapter One
You're Only Young Once
My parents came to America when Europe was on the brink of war. Just like all immigrants, they were seeking the American dream.
I was born in the 1940s. We started out on the east side in Midtown Manhattan, in a four-room apartment on the top floor of a five-floor walk-up. We were fortunate that we had a bathroom in the apartment, because many had to share one with others.
I had two older brothers and two younger sisters. Mom and Dad had the old-fashioned tradition and spoke only Greek while we were all growing up.
Dad was tall and thin. He was particularly firm in some things, yet, he was pretty easygoing in other ways.
Mom was a "super mom"; she was on the short side but was a giant in our eyes. She had a heart of gold and would go out of her way to satisfy people. Mom had lost a child, which left her with a physical problem. She required an operation to correct it, but, as she was not too fond of hospitals, she kept postponing it. She would wear a support to keep her problem from getting worse.
With most Greek families then, it was most crucial that the children be named after their parents, grandparents, uncles and aunts.
I briefly remember when I was about five years old; I took money from my mother's purse. I had no real understanding of the value of money. I took some of my friends to the neighborhood candy store and bought them all types of snacks.
I remember the clerk giving me all these other bills. He allegedly told one of my brothers. My father gave me a spanking that to this day, I can still remember. I learned a vital lesson: if you want money, you better earn it.
I can vaguely remember Dad talking about when President Truman announced on the radio the successful bombing of Japan. Then shortly after, people were celebrating the end of the war in the streets. It was not until years later that I learned it was an atomic bomb. I have some memories of the blackouts, when the city was in total darkness in case of an enemy attack, just at the end of World War II.
When I was about six years old, I enjoyed going shopping with Mom at the different stores. Mom would leave my sisters home with Dad when he was off. She would shop at different department stores; her favorite was Bloomingdale's. She would purchase everything there, from towels to furniture. Every month, she made her payment of ten dollars. She never missed a payment, no matter how lousy things were. Mom did not even trust mailing it; she either went in person herself or sent one of us to pay it when we got older.
I especially enjoyed riding on the Third Avenue el. The fare was just five cents, and they gave out free transfers.
One day, I grabbed a transfer slip. I wanted to surprise my aunt and uncle who lived outside the city in Maspeth, Queens. The transfer slip was valid for only four hours from the time they issued it. I did not have much time. I told Mom I was going to go out and play. Mom's favorite comment was "Ta matia sou dekatesita," which translates, (Have fourteen eyes).
So I went on my way to experience the pleasure of traveling on the New York City Subway to see my aunt and uncle. The reason I loved going to their house was they had a television. To make watching it more enticing, they would put this glass shield over the TV screen to make it colored. It would also magnify the picture, but the problem was everything was blue on top and green on the bottom.
Having gone with my parents before, I remembered the front lights on the train were a specific color, indicating the train's destination. I was sure I knew the way, But when I got off the train, everything looked strange. I saw a sign that read, "Flushing." It was then I realized that something was not right. I was not sure what to do, so I stuck my hands into my pockets and pulled out two cents. I realized I did not have enough money to get back on the train. I kept on walking, hoping I would see something I recognized. Now I was starting to get a little frightened.
I remembered my father always telling me if ever I ran into a problem or got lost, I should look for a policeman. Well, one found me; he saw me alone and came up to me. He asked me where my parents were, and I told him I was trying to find my aunt and uncle's house. He asked me where they lived; I told him I did not know their address, but I knew what the house looked like. I remember he laughed.
He took me to the Flushing police station. We went back to where the policemen would hang out. They gave me all different types of junk food; I was thinking to myself that getting lost was like a party.
I was afraid, not knowing what to expect, but I was also having a fabulous time playing games with some of the policemen. They asked me if I knew my telephone number and address. I told the policeman, who was sitting behind his desk, that we had no telephone, but I knew my home address. They were able to get the telephone number of the drugstore that was downstairs in the apartment house. I remember they had a black cat that I would play with. Shortly after, they told me that they had gotten ahold of my family and someone was coming to get me.
A short time later, my brother Jack came. When he got there, they asked me if he was even my brother. Though Jack was only fourteen, he looked older. When we left, he said I was in trouble; after hearing that, I was afraid to go home. I got a well-deserved spanking and got grounded from various activities for a long time. After that episode, my parents kept a closer watch on me.
Mom never trusted us when we washed up; she would wash our hair, especially on Saturday night. We had this wash basin in the kitchen where she would scrub our hair using a brush. The more we complained, the harder she scrubbed.
When we all sat down to eat, especially when we had company, it was vital for all of us to be properly dressed. The men and boys would always wear a shirt with a necktie, and the women and girls wore dresses with no exceptions. One would think we were going to church the way we had to dress. Whether we liked it or not, we all learned at a young age that you do not argue with "Greek traditions."
Mom would scold us whenever we did not finish eating. She always told us to be thankful for what was on our plates, because in other parts...
