Greece has always been the word in our family.
We are the California-born grandchildren of smart, proud, hard-working Greek immigrants. Strictly in order to feed their families, they left those they loved most—along with their beloved homes in Ikaria, Messini, and Sanga—and emigrated to the U.S. as teenagers. They were the living embodiments of courage, conviction, generosity, perseverance, and love. We bow down to them.
These same grandparents, along with their children—our parents—raised us to study, embrace, and respect the world’s cultures, histories, languages, literatures, and traditions. Diogenes said he was a citizen of the world, and we feel the same way.
Our father, an historian and educator, taught us words in German, Cantonese, French, Italian, and a dozen other languages. He said we needed to learn to speak at least a few words in as many languages as possible in order to have a chance of understanding and connecting with those we would encounter in our lives.
Our mother, an educator too, has always prioritized providing us with mind- and heart-opening experiences over material possessions, helping us connect with the world at every opportunity. She has always been a living example of the Greeks’ dedication to mental, emotional, and physical wellbeing.
While our grandparents and parents enthusiastically encouraged us to value all other peoples’ histories, traditions, languages, literatures, and cultures, they also taught us about the greatness of our own family’s history, traditions, language, literature, and culture.
The gratitude we have for our Greek ancestry borders on obsession. We love being Greek.
And we welcome and appreciate those who love Greece and Greeks, too.
In fact, we’re pretty sure everyone is at least a lil’ bit Greek.
Our style in Greece, 1978.