Family History

Mom was over for Sunday dinner, and afterwards I pulled out some correspondence I had just received from the Archives office in Sparta, Greece:  copies of Mitroon Arrenon (Male Registers) and Dimotologion (Town Register) from St. John’s, a village of my ancestors. These priceless documents reveal vital information about my Kostakos and Papagiannakos families. As Mom and I looked at the Papagiannakos names, we found a large family of men born to a patriarch named Nickolaos. Joyfully we realized that four of his descendants are Mom’s cousins.

Every male birth in Greece is recorded for voting and military purposes. The child’s name, birth date and place, and name of father are listed.

Memories of happiness washed over my mother as she recalled these cousins who took her to dinner, movies, Greek dances, and other activities during her youth. She related (yet again!) how her uncle helped her land her first job in New York City after she graduated from high school. As one oft-told story ebbed and another crested, an unexpected wave of envy pierced my heart — I had never experienced these things.

Feelings of loss washed over me as I recalled years of frustration in researching my elusive Greek ancestors, pangs of empty-nest syndrome, and sadness with the passing of elderly relatives. Mom’s life had been intertwined with extended family; mine was not.

This ordinary Sunday afternoon became a “watershed” moment. Instantly, I understood how the strength of the extended family  –  its interconnections, its common origins, its bloodlines that intermarry for generations – was a bedrock of support, solidarity, and security for immigrant families. Within two generations after my grandparents’ arrival in America, it was lost. And I am the biggest loser.

As a member of the third generation (immigrant grandparents being the first, parents the second), I am left with just a glimpse of a way of life that we, in today’s fragmented society, cannot even imagine:

• My first and second generation ancestors were large extended families who lived in close proximity in the Brooklyn, New York area.
• They walked or took short subway rides to visit each other – many on an almost-daily basis.
• They gathered for Sunday afternoons where poker games and socializing extending into the late evening.
• They crowded into small apartments and homes to celebrate holidays and “name days” (a huge occasion where men named after early Christian Saints were feted with elaborate dinners on the feast day of their patron Saint).
• They arranged marriages within families, or at the very least, family members were constantly on the lookout for prospective spouses for their brothers, sisters and cousins.
• They were close enough to help each other during hard times, both physically and emotionally. My grandfathers would invariably send a needy relative home with bags of food from their restaurants and money to help pay the rent. 

Today, my extended family is scattered. Even my cousins in Brooklyn have moved away. The first generation is long gone, the second generation is dying, and the third generation is spread across America.

This is the only three-generation photograph of my childhood. It shows my maternal grandmother, Angelina Eftaxias Papapiannakos, with her children and the grandchildren she had at the time the photo was taken. Left to right top row: Uncle Bill, my mother Catherine, Aunt Bertha, Grandmother Angelina. Bottom:  me, my cousin John, Uncle Nick, my brother, John.

Email, Facebook and Skype can foster connections but cannot duplicate the face-to-face, regular interactions that bonded my first generation family. This bonding is something I miss; something I long for; something I cannot duplicate.

How grateful I am for the family photographs and stories that have been recorded. They bring me understanding and appreciation of my progenitors, and give me something tangible to pass on to my posterity.

Are you a third generation American? I would love to hear your story! Please consider sharing your comments by submitting them to: [email protected].