Rockin' the Cradle of Civilization

by Cathy

If you are one of the three people who haven't seen "My Big Fat Greek Wedding", then you won't relate to this.  Note: I may have made a reference to this movie before and this won't be the last time, either.

I am the old Greek man in the movie. The dad. The "everything stemmed from Greeks" Greek. Democracy. Civilization. Astronomy. Math. Medicine. The Olympic Games. Science. Philosophy. A Root Language. Oh that last one really annoys the crap outta my family. They refuse to watch the Scripps National Spelling Bee broadcast with me because when contestants ask the root of the word and the response is "Greek," I do a little dance. They almost anticipate my response to a Greek-based word. "Just tell us what it means because you're gonna tell us anyway!" And I do. Can I help it if I am proud of my heritage? My culture? My civilization?

It seems that I am gaining that reputation to all those around me now. The other day, my cousin Katrina, who is the next proud Greek I know, was over for dinner. As I was dishing out mounds of spaghetti and beef into her plate, asking her if she preferred more mitzithra, (a shredded Greek pasta cheese) and whisking plates around from the stove to the table, she said, "Wow. I feel like I'm at your mom's house."
"Of course!" I replied. "That's because I'm Greek! That's what we do - feed people!"
Katrina laughed in agreement.

Later, dinner conversation somehow shifted to my kids counting to 10 in Greek, then in French and then in Spanish. Then Katrina followed with the Spanish counting she knew. "Wow," said my husband, the Latino. "Your accent is pretty good!"
"Yeah," Bella chimed in. "You even roll your "r's"!
Before Katrina could blurt out, "It's 'cause I'm Greek!" I piped in with "Of course! She's Greek!!!"

Even my neighbor has picked up on my Greek representin' habits. The other day, my kids and I filed out of the car in the garage just as she was pulling in. She apparently saw the trunk full of grocery bags and offered to help take some upstairs. "No, that's okay," I replied. "I'll get the kids to help. What am I feeding them for??"
She burst into laughter. "Is that a Greek thing?"
"Yes! My parents used that as an incentive to get us to help constantly! How did you know?"
Still laughing, she said, "I think the Germans took a page out of their book," referencing a side of her own heritage.

My kids don't get this now, but my constant references to all things Greek - the language, the cultural nuances - will stay with them as they grow and learn.  My garage door may not be painted as the Greek flag, I may not have Parthenon-like columns supporting my deck or statues of Aphrodite adorning my garden, but my ties to my culture are firm and unbreakable and that is what I want for my kids.

I take pride in telling people what my ancestors have contributed to the world, and I truly appreciate it when others give me historical tidbits about their cultures as well. After all, I may be Greek, but I don't have xenophobia. (As if you thought I would let this opportunity slip by...that's a Greek word meaning a fear of foreigners,  Xeno = foreign(ers) and Phobia = fear.) 

 Just rockin' it, baby!