When baton-twirling was (sort of) a Greek thing in Stockton, California

On the Fourth of July, I usually think about small-town parades, one of my favorite things -- even though those beautiful, history-evoking celebrations are sadly few and far between these days. But today I am thinking specifically about baton-twirling. Seriously.

A few days ago the Stockton Record reported that the 56th National Baton-Twirling Championships will take place in Stockton, July 7-12.  And I immediately thought of Alex Spanos' autobiography, Sharing the Wealth.  I had been amazed to read that Alex and his siblings Stella, George and Danny had excelled at, of all things, baton-twirling -- and had also taken tumbling, ballroom dancing, piano, (ever so briefly) ballet, and tap dance lessons. Alex reported that "For some reason, baton twirling was his [father's] favorite." (p.27) Gus Spanos made batons from aluminum pipes and taught his kids how to twirl in their backyard.  Stella Spanos Graham tells me that her mother Evanthia made all their costumes. It was a familiy deal.

We know that the tap dance lessons eventually led Alex to Carnegie Hall with Bob Hope, but who still remembers the "Spanos Shows" at Stockton High School football game halftimes? "George and Stella," Alex wrote, "became so skilled that they entered and won competitions with routines that pushed the envelope of baton-twirling mastery. As a group, we won both regional and state baton-twirling championships." (p.40)  Danny and Alex were also drum majors at Cal Poly, where the four of them performed on occasion. Opa!

Neither Stella or my aunt Libby can remember any other Greek Stockton kids twirling batons in those days, but there is always a future...Baton-twirling is no lost art, and 500 participants will compete in the championships at the Stockton Arena next week from 8 am - 5 pm. There is no charge for admission, so maybe the entire St. Basil's Greek Dance Group (s) could observe. Who knows who the next Greek twirling champion(s) will be? Happy Fourth of July!

NOTE: Alex Spanos' book is chock-full of historical information and observations. He was right on point in his analysis of the Greek economic situation and how difficult reform would be. (pp. 213 and 224). But he also wrote: "I am convinced that there hasn't been a Greek child born who enjoyed Greek School." (p.26) Sorry, Alex, but I loved Greek School...even those old public school desks in the back room of St. Basil's downstairs hall off Lafayette Street.

Tsoureki any day of the week, even if your Yiayia didn't make it!

Tsoureki

Always wondered about King's Hawaiian Original Hawaiian Sweet Bread, as it silently called to me from countless grocery bread racks over the years. Recently, I had a chance to try it, and my worst fears were confirmed: I can easily toast some of that bread and think I am eating "Greek Toast" made with tsoureki bread any day of the week! 

Tsoureki, of course, is the braided sweet bread made with eggs, milk and butter, usually by your Yiayia twice a year. It is traditionally served on Easter with a red hard-boiled egg or 2 or 3 planted on top, or on New Year's Day as a "Vassilopita" with a lucky coin in it. I always look forward to toasting leftover tsoureki for breakfast and eating it with feta cheese. It could easily become addictive.

The rest of the year there is usually no tsoureki and thus no "Greek Toast" -- unless there is a Greek bakery in town, you bake it yourself, or your are able to score a Jewish challah bread. But there is always King's Hawaiian Original Sweet Bread -- which comes in dinner rolls and sandwich rolls, as well as a large round bread and sliced bread. If you are on a budget (or prefer not to pig out), the small package of 4 dinner rolls will do just fine; I cut that square loaf into six neat slices. When toasting it, I savored the unmistakable scent of tsoureki. And even though it wasn't quite up to Yiayia standards, it was close enough...Voila, "Greek Toast!"

"Greek Toast"

Tried it immediately with feta cheese, of course -- and, yes, real Greeks do eat olives for breakfast...Also tried it with orange marmalade and, for good measure, I slathered a slice with "Bees Knees" peanut butter w/honey. If I had some tzatziki handy, I would have tried that, too. Indeed, King's Hawaiian Sweet Bread Sandwich Rolls would probably make for fabulous gyro sandwiches rather than the usual (now kinda boring) pita bread. But for now, let's just keep it simple: King's Hawaiian Original Sweet Bread = (for better or worse) tsoureki any day of the week.

NOTE: DO NOT try this at home during Easter or New Year's!

Wish I knew more about the Crockett Connection...

Tenacity

My Papou George Sarris was born in Kyparissi, Laconias on July 17, 1892, and arrived in New York on November 17, 1910.  In those days, Greek immigrants primarily celebrated namedays, not birthdays. Legend has it that Papou first listed April 23, St. George's Day, as his birthday because he could not remember the actual date...

George Sarris was living in Crockett (CA)* when he joined the U.S. Army on September 5, 1918, on his pathway to citizenship. Not surprisingly, he served in a bakery unit. A small photo with "18" on the back has him standing on train steps with a bag in his hand. Is he heading for Ft. Kearny with the unique icon that he took along with him? Did he bring that icon -- with the dried leaves I just noticed -- from his village? Papou's naturalization papers were subsequently issued in Martinez (Contra Costa County) on July 16, 1920. We have a picture of his Crockett fountain-candy store circa 1920-21...But there are more questions. Why was he in Crockett (which is near San Francisco)? Who else from his family or village might have also lived there?  The Crockett history trail runs rather dry because we didn't record the facts when our grandparents and parents were alive.

Faith

Recently I watched "The Greeks of Southern California Through the Century: The Pioneers 1900-1942," a  documentary hosted by a very proud Olympia Dukakis and produced by the The Greek Heritage Society of Southern California in 2002.**   Recorded interviews with first generation Greek-Americans keep their sometimes brutal experiences and amazing achievements alive for generations to come. Keywords were tenacity, loyalty, and faith. Bravo!

But what about the Greeks of San Joaquin County? Most of our old photos are packed away in boxes stored high in closets or even in the garage. Meanwhile, memories are fading and our ancestors are passing away. We need to dig those pictures out, talk about them, and identify them -- otherwise they will become simple curiosities...Documents, too. Every family kept the records of when and how they came to the States, marriage certificates, church baptismal records, army papers, etc. My father Steve carried a wallet-sized copy of his discharge papers in his pocket until the day he died. My Papou's collected papers provide the facts reported above. Meanwhile, however, I am left wishing that I knew more about the Crockett Connection...

Papou George Sarris' Crockett establishment

* Crockett, CA, is currently a small unincorporated "census-designated place" (pop. 3,094) in Contra Costa county beneath the Cartinez bridge and home of the Sugartown Festival and Street Fair (on July 20th this year).
** I purchased this video at the amazing, must-visit National Hellenic Museum in Chicago last summer -- find out more about the museum and how to join HERE.

Ascension Day in Paris

Here I am in St. Stephen's Greek Orthodox Church at 7 Rue Georges Bizet in the XVI Arrondisement, about a 20-minute walk from my hotel. Today is a holiday in Paris, schools and many businesses are closed. Church and picnics are what happen on Ascension Day. (There appears to be no Greek enclave or neighborhood per se here in Paris, but I will have to explore that more during my next visit. There are a few Greek restaurants highly-rated on Trip Advisor, including the rather unique Aux P'Tit Grec on Rue Mouffetard w/Kyrie Antoni from Thessaloniki.)

Once inside I lit two candles for my parents -- and felt like I could be in Miami, Stockton. New York or anywhere Orthodox Greeks gather to pray and socialize (afterward)... except that the narthex and the nave are not separated by a wall, more Greek-as-in-Greece-styled.

St. Stephen's -- the seat of the Metropolis -- was built in 1895 (pano-kato, I was told). And, yes, there is a woman in the ranks of 7 psaltithes! But there are only about two dozen people (young and old) here so far, sitting in about 8 rows of straight-backed wooden chairs with straw seats (with built-in wooden seats along the walls). Maybe there will be more when the Liturgy begins. Ah, it has now just begun and here comes a bespectacled young man with 3 small children...The Bible reading is in Greek and French.

The welcoming smells of incense complete an environment familiar to me since childhood. And so it shall always be.

Now for Le Picnic!

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Belated Memorial Day in Normandy, God Bless America!

It was rainy and nasty this morning on the way to Utah Beach in Normandy, about 4 hours from Paris. Our tour guide prefaced our visit by saying that Utah was the good beach, while Omaha was a near disaster. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

Utah Beach Memorial

 While I had heard stories from my Dad Steve about his time in the Pacific Theater during WWII, none of that prepared me for standing on the French beaches in person. The weather on D-Day was nasty, too -- but by time we got there is was sunny and nice. And the ongoing gratitude of the French people in the surrounding towns was palpable as they prepare for June 6th, the 70th Anniversary of an Allied invasion that liberated Paris about 10 weeks later. They are our friends forever, regardless of you hear about the French.

"Their Sacrifice, Our Liberty"

I can't think of anyone I knew from Stockton who died in Normandy, though legend has it that Pete Spanos fought in France and was rescued by French nuns. As far as I'm concerned, they were all here -- every man and woman who fought for liberation from The Third Reich in World War II.

Our tour group moved from Utah Beach and the amazing museum there to Pointe du Huoc, where US Rangers had the thankless task of storming cliffs to take out 6 guns that actually had been redeployed by then.German pills boxes and bomb craters dot the landscape, and you can see for yourself the dramatic destruction of rocky cliffs by the repeated bombings -- all enduring reminders of the effects of war.

We ended our visit at the American Cemetery overlooking Omaha Beach, a killing field that magnified the sacrifice made by young, sometimes under-aged Americans who believed in their noble mission. Row upon row of Crosses and Stars of David commemorate 9,387 souls, including 45 sets of brothers. That mission is not to be confused w/the war in Vietnam or misguided adventures in Iraq and Afghanistan. This was the real deal.

All I can say is "God bless America!"

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