2 posts tagged “greece”

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An Open Letter to a Pyromaniac in Greece

Aug 30, 2007
22 comments

Perhaps one of the ‘conspiracy theories’ is right. You might be a “domestic terrorist” seeking to overthrow the government by creating chaos, as the officials, like officials everywhere, every time there’s a disaster anywhere, ‘chicken-little it’, shouting, “the sky is falling…but it’s not my fault!” You might be a landowner who got screwed by one of the capricious government edicts, that says you can construct a home one day and then declares your building site a ‘forest-protected area’ the next. You might even be a cold-blooded opportunist, who expects you can now purchase ruined land on the cheap and build hotels upon it.

Or perhaps you just like to see things burn. Maybe you’re one of the pathetic few in this world who imagine that you, who can only destroy, are as magnificent as those who can only create.

None of this matters. Because I’m writing to tell just what you really accomplished and just who you really are:

NOTHING.

You are NOTHING to the Greek spirit that has conquered thousands of years of famine, strife, oppression and natural acts of god.

You are NOTHING to the descendents of those who rebuilt the Parthenon after the Persians destroyed it. It was made even more astonishing and awe-inspiring the second time around.

You are NOTHING to those whose ancestors in Messolonghi, danced the “Zallogos,” then jumped off the cliffs to their deaths, rather then endure capture by their enemies.

You are NOTHING to the children of the children, who parents taught them in hidden caves, when tyrants occupying the land tried to squelch the Hellenic culture, history and language.

And to the ghosts of the students who stood in front of tanks and to Mikis Theodorakis, whose music is still the voice of the Greek Resistance, you are NOTHING.

Like the flame you created, you were here for a short time, “full of sound and fury,” but in the face of our determination, indomitable love of land and country, you are reduced to ash. That ash, which you left behind, we’ll use it to till the soil. It will fertilize the seeds of the beautiful red poppies of Hellas. And they’ll grow again.

Where you thought you’d left Greece barren, flora and fauna will grow again. Though we may not live to see it bloom to its complete beauty, our grandchildren will and their grandchildren, too.

Where you’d hoped to destroy a mother’s love and her four children, you unwittingly multiplied it, by the love of a hundred million mothers on every corner of this planet, who wept for her and hers, holding our own sons and daughters all the tighter that night.

Those of us privileged and safe in our homes, saw your flames from our televisions and cried,too. But the men and women in the villages we watched, remained stoic as they stamped you out with nothing but sticks and prayers. They’d lived through it all before - fire, earthquakes and conquerors - and still live, to pass on their valour to the next generation.

Philhellenes and Hellenes everywhere across the globe, like devoted, grown children tending to an ailing parent, will nurture Greece back to health, as she had always nurtured us. And Greece will thrive again, as she has in the past, as she always will.

That’s why I say you are NOTHING.

First Blog

May 24, 2007
19 comments

I just realized today that it is approximately five years since I returned to the US after having lived in Greece for more than seven years. Gosh, these five years have just zipped by. When the weather warms up like it has, I still miss sitting by the Greek sea, sipping retsina with my friends and eating a feta cheese and tomato salad. I keep saying I will get back there one of these days, but so far, I haven’t done it. At least I can still keep up with my people there via email and cheap internet phone and every once in a while one pops in to send a kid to college here or sell the old property that belonged to the family, or what have you. So it’s not like we’ve lost touch. Still, so much has happened in the past five years, that I think I can be forgiven for not getting back as of yet.

Let’s see---well, there was the divorce itself that precipitated the move back. Then there was the sale of the business over there. Then there was the subsequent remarriage. Then there was the anxiety over the divorce, remarriage and business sale. Would I get out of Greece without having to leave my son behind with his father? Did my son really want to come back to the States with me and not stay in Greece with his father? Were my business partner and I happy with the terms of the business sale? Was I making a ridiculously optimistic mistake in getting married again? Did I know if my judgment in personal matters had improved any?

And apart from the anxiety over the divorce and the move and the sale and the remarriage, there was the guilt. Make that GUILT. I was dripping with it. Would my 14-year-old son adjust to all the changes I had forced on him? (We moved back home, but not exactly ‘home‘---we went to the west coast instead of the east where he’d been born, because after living in Greece’s sublime climate, I knew I just couldn’t abide a New York winter.) So we had the absent dad, the new state, the new school, the new step-dad and stepbrothers. There was the English language for him to contend with, as opposed to the Greek one. And I went from being a working mom to a stay-at-home-and-write mom. Every time he had any kind of issue, great or small, my whole body effused with shame---had I destroyed this kid or what? Said kid could really sense that GUILT, too and like the smart kid he is, he used it and used it good. He got at least a year’s free pass just on my self-reproach.

Gee---you’d think with all the anxiety and guilt, I wouldn’t have gained weight in those first two years back. I thought anxiety and guilt made one jittery and therefore gaunt. But, no. Because, you see, despite the anxiety and guilt there was HAPPINESS and love with my new fellow and love and happiness to me means cooking great meals and heavenly desserts and sipping wine by the fireplace we were lucky enough to have in our new flat. So the first two years back in the States, we had nerves, guilt and weight gain. But we also had joy. For the first time in my life, if I’m honest. I discovered in those first two years back, that the distinction between a happy marriage and an unhappy one, is like the distinction between a federal prison sentence that permits traveling privileges with a monitor strapped to your ankle and the exhilaration of complete exoneration. Much to my astonishment, it was---so far, fingers crossed---that different.

Until the car accident. My new husband lost a son, a boy I was just getting to know. But I won’t write about that today. It took us a while to get back on track, yet we’re managing. There is still happiness, but it’s mitigated now with the complete understanding of what sadness and despair truly is.

Now here we are three years later. I’ve spent the last four years writing, writing, writing. And being disgusted with George Bush, the Iraq war, the Patriot Acts and the Military Commissions Act. And being a wife, mother, stepmother, friend and enjoying every minute of those. And going to the gym, whipping myself back into shape and not enjoying that quite so much. But if I’ve learned anything at 51 years of age, it’s that if you have health, life still holds so many wonderful possibilities.

So, there you have it. My first blog. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading it. Still---be warned---they won’t all be like this one. Going forward, reading my blogs will not be for the fainthearted. Stay tuned.