Go Tigers

Wilson's back to school night got off to a rough start yesterday. The doors stood open, and the auditorium was very warm not having the benefit of air conditioning. The first speaker urged every one to move up as there was no PA system. The principal seemed to be running a few minutes late. Lights kept blinking, and if you looked up, you noticed the large areas of plaster rotting up there in the ceiling. But then, with no press, photography or fanfare, up popped our new mayor, Adrian Fenty.

Fenty's voice was clear and strong while he gave the mandatory short spiel on making school improvements. It was such a morale booster that it really didn't matter what he said. The most important thing to me was that he was there with us in that stuffy room, and that it was not the first time he had been at this school. It is somewhat comforting that he is from this town as generally only people who are from here can understand things here, and even we find it A Challenge.

The rest of the night went well. The teachers, for once, were not complaining about a lack of books or other glaring oversights. There was even a glimmer of optimism. The stadium and field have been renovated, and the pool is finally under reconstruction.

Wilson was a brand new school back in the 1930s, when my dad's brother, Nick Cokinos attended. You can literally feel its age going up the stairs which are concave now like the steps of a Roman coliseum. It's still a beautiful building despite its age, but it desperately needs improvement- as do the vast majority of our city schools. Perhaps there is a tiny glimmer now,  just there at the end of this long dark tunnel, but it sure is amazing how fast that new baseball stadium is getting built.

Rodman's Rocks

With all the construction going on up there in Friendship Height's, it's comforting to me to see Rodman's still going strong at 5100 Wisconsin Avenue. Starting in 1955 as a drugstore, today the store sells everything from shallots to Gumby. As Arlo Guthrie once said in Alice's Restaurant "You can get anything you want" at Rodman's, but there is a minor drawback or two.

The first problem with going to Rodman's is getting out of there. You might go in for one quick thing like LU's Cinnamon Sugar Biscuits which Safeway doesn't carry anymore, but as soon as you walk in, there are 30% off fireworks right next to the BBQ sets and the Toblerone bars. This is the back entrance which is a narrow one person aisle created by stacks and stacks of food and drink: tomato sauce, olives, chutney, baby clams, wine, vinegar, sardines, curry paste, Parmesan cheese and stuffed peppers. (Wait is that a topping or a side dish?) All kinds of jam, marinated artichokes, and olive oil.

The second problem is which aisle to run to first?
Wine? Beer? Snacks?
Look- there's those Italian cookies, the ones in the big red tins.  Lazzaroni's used to have the wrappers you could light on fire and make a wish on as they rose to the ceiling. And those weird chocolate cigar type cookies someone bought for us in Greece once, not to mention digestive biscuits, whatever they are, and those cinnamon ones I just remembered I came in here for.

Oh, and they have Lady Grey Tea. Safeway doesn't seem to stock that anymore either. Fritos, Doritos and crystallized ginger. I don't what to do with it, but I'm intrigued. Here are squirt bottles of Kalamata olive puree under a sign that says "dessert toppings".  And something that looks like shrunken heads over there in the produce aisle turns out to be celery root. Celery root? Oh look- they've got a great deal on lemons. Does anyone need a scratch off ticket? A baguette would be good for later. And do I have enough tuna fish?

Over in the beverage aisles, I am befriended by DC native, "Hoppy Dave" who educated me as best he could on the amazing variety of beers he stocks. A happily bewildering experience that almost involved me getting a second cart. (Warning-one cart is bad enough in there- something akin to navigating a Hummer through the back streets of Georgetown.)

By the time Dave was finished with me, I had a basket full of beers I'd never heard of, but couldn't wait to try-including Bell's Batch 8,000, a commemorative ale which only gets made every 8,000 years. ( I might be wrong there, but my head only holds a limited amount of numbers) He also filled me in on my high school teacher, Bob Tupper who went on to produce Tupper's Hop Pocket Ale, an excellent adult beverage courtesy of Old Dominion Brewery which, Dave tells me, has been bought now by Budweiser. What? That's why there was no Tupper's in sight as the Tuppers don't deal with "Bud.

Now I've solved the problem of leaving Rodman's. My cart is full even though I didn't even make it downstairs where the household products are.  The coffee makers, the watch repair, play-doh, hair brushes and oh, yes, Gumby. Not to mention the pharmacy and the vitamins which will all have to wait until next time.

Mat Thorp "Cokinos"

Because "exclusive" is not in my family vocabulary please welcome my neighbor, Mat Thorp into the fold of this blog. Although Matt is not from here, he has spent enough time here to have plenty of street cred since his arrival after serving in World War Two. Here is Mat's "inclusion":





"To make sure that I get included in your, obviously exclusive blog; here are my Greek bonafides: The second photo from the right margin on the top line is Lynn`s mother, Lynn, with Nick Gaston owner of the Old New Orleans night club on 18th Street at Connecticut Ave. This was taken by the Old New Orleans cigarette/photographer girl. On Lynn`s and my first date in 1949, she asked me to meet her at Nick`s house on the Virginia side of Key Bridge where he had Sunday poolside parties. Nick`s main business was brokering restaurant deals. When Lynn and I were married the second time, Nick had the wedding group to the Old New Orleans before opening time."

Thanks for the memories, Mat!

Birthday Ray

(Jeanne and Bebe 1952)

Once upon a time a woman named Jeanne Lightbound went to Western High School for just one year and became good friends with a Greek kid named George Cokinos. Jeanne went back to Bethesda Chevy Chase High school, but she never forgot George. If she hadn't kept up that friendship with George, we never would have met all her BCC pals like Charles Bernard, whom she married, and Ray Stone who is celebrating his 90th birthday today.


(Irene, Bebe and Ray 1945)

The gang, Ray and Irene Stone, Roy and Marge Cross and Jeanne's husband Charles Bernard met George and Bebe in the late 1930s. After the war everybody started having children and playing Bridge. George, Ray and Charles went into the home building business together before Ray began Bethesda TV and Charles got into selling Oldsmobiles. The friends went to the beach and later traveled the world together.


(Peter and Roger Cokinos w/ Ray Stone 1950)



(Trip to Bermuda 1970 back when everybody got dressed up to get on a plane)

In the late 1960s, George and Ray built beach cottages side by side in South Bethany. The property was cheap after a huge storm destroyed most of the beachfront houses on Ash Wednesday in 1962.

Bethany Beach after the storm

The two houses ended up being so close together that we could communicate with an intercom which was fun but unreliable. When that didn't work, we used sign language. We didn't have phones at the beach.

One time George urgently summoned Ray, telling him that a fire had broken out. Ray rushed over to our house only to find George grinning, standing over a griddle full of pancakes. Too bad Ray forgot to tell Irene, who was waiting anxiously next door, that it was just a joke.

Bebe recalls the time they went out on Ray's boat and their friend, Nadine spilled a cocktail down her front. She went below and took her bra off, and they hung it on the rigging to dry. When they came back to dock for dinner, they made quite the entrance with Ray coming in a bit too fast, and the red bra flying.

Happy birthday, Ray. You still have your good looks, not to mention that winning personality.

Hot Hazy Humid Then and Now

picnic at mayo beach 1940

It is hot which is nothing new here in Washington, DC in the summertime. What is new is the heat index which is telling us how hot we FEEL. I could live without that. I have been living through these sweltering summers almost all of my life, but it's disconcerting now to know small children and older people should not even be breathing the air. On these hot summer days all eyes turn toward the Eastern Shore.

Way back when, before the Chesapeake Bay Bridges, a trip to the beach was most likely by car or ferry and did not necessarily mean the Atlantic Ocean. Ferries could take you to places like Betterton Beach or St Michael's- once thriving water front communities. Now you can still find sleepy piers on either side of the bay while the traffic swarms down Route Fifty towards Rehobeth or Ocean City.

My parents, George and Bebe, used to go to beaches on the DC side of the bay like Chesapeake Beach, Mayo, and Woodland. There were nets to catch the nettles that didn't work very well, and the water was shallow, but it was wet, and hopefully a breeze was stirring the air. Cousins Koula and Thelma had a cottage in North Beach, and their friend, Johnny Monaco had a place in South Beach. Johnny would catch soft shells or fish for dinner. Sometimes my parents would sneak into the dances at Beverly Beach where no "immigrants" or "Mediterraneans" were allowed, but my DC born "Greek" father was light haired and blue eyed and got away with passing.

dc space reunion/benefit for Tom Terrell

DC Space, 2005
Originally uploaded by IntangibleArts

There is a home town party this weekend at the new 9:30 Club in the form of a dc space reunion party/ benefit for Tom Terrell beloved deejay and friendly familiar voice to many a  night owl. The 9:30 Club and dc space were located in what once was a forlorn F Street shopping district during the late 1970s and 1980s. The Hecht's Departent Store is now a Macy's, and part of Woodies is becoming a Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. The 9:30 Club has since moved to V Street, near Howard University.

When dc space opened on the corner of 7th and E, music fans started being a path between 9: 30 and space. Now the building houses a Starbucks, and during construction workers found an old office upstairs that once belonged to Clara Barton.

Over fifty artists, including the founders of both 9:30 and dc space, are gathering to celebrate 9:30's 30th anniversary, and in the spirit of benevolence, many are donating their talents this Sunday, July 29th. Doors open at 4. Twenty dollar donation. Performances including music, poetry and film will be ongoing until 1 a.m.

Farewell A.V. Ristorante

(photo by bethhowe1 @ flickr)

Augosto Vasaio opened his landmark Italian restaurant "AV" in July 1949 on New York Avenue, and it became a magnet for all who love to eat. My cousin, Pete adored it for the large portions of comfort food, Italian style. He was in heaven when we had cousin parties there. I remember him ordering platter after platter until we all left groaning. We made sure we used a lot of napkins because the restaurant was a customer of Modern Linen which our fathers ran throughout the 1960s and 1970s. "Modern" kept them supplied with tablecloths and napkins for many years.

cousin party circa 1985

My father remembers that Augusto used to fill a big station wagon full of American things like stockings, toothpaste, and cigarettes- whatever he thought he could sell overseas. He (and the car) would get on a boat to Italy every year, and come back with a load of olive oil, pasta, cheeses and all that Italian yard art that A.V. is so famous for in the courtyard.

Another piece of Washington history is slipping away. The doors close July 28.

H Street Northeast Revisited

Now that H Street is coming back into its own, I wanted to pick my father George’s brain about what it was like back in his day, in the 1920s. I decided we ought to take a tour, and see what was left, so my parents and I climbed into my pollen laden car and went back in time.

Our first hurdle was getting to H Street from Northwest to Northeast. Everywhere we went the streets are being ripped up with new construction. Plus George couldn’t see through all the green funk on the windshield so that was a handicap, but we finally found the block where my grandfather, Peter Cokinos, had his candy shop at 1103 H Street.

Pete opened this shop after working with his cousin James on 8th Street SE. He made candy and ice cream in the basement here, and my father was one of his biggest shoplifters.

H Street has been slow to recover from the the riots of 1968. Whole blocks were burned, and this was one of them. The exact address is gone, but there is a convenience store at 1101 H Street right about where the shop should be.

I asked Dad about other Greeks in the neighborhood back then, and you couldn’t swing a cat without hitting a half dozen families - including branches of our own clan. James Cokinos bought the candy shop from my grandfather and also had a deli at 10th and K.  Another cousin Nick Kendros had the Woodward Sandwich Shop at 1422 H Street. The Kavakos family ran a grill at 8th and H which became a very popular nightclub during World War II, but was torn down in the 1990s.

The Kalevas family ran the Rendezvous- another hot spot. The Chaconas Bar and Grill was at 10th and H, and the Bacchus Grill was at H and 15th (owned by the Bacchus family not the god) He also remembers the Paramount Grill run by two Greek brothers. It was "a blue collar sort of breakfast place." (Imagine that.) The Gatsos family had a barber shop where you could get your shoes shined, too.

The Gatsos Family

Besides all the Greeks in the neighborhood, there was also Whal's Department Store which was two stories high and carried everything. There were three movie theaters- the Apollo, the Empire and the Princess - all of them gone now. (The Atlas which is now a performing arts center didn’t open until the late 1930s.)

Our next stop was 919 11th Street, the house where my Dad was born. (yes, at home) Here's the family on the front porch around 1923.

The block is a little worn down now, the fluted columns on the houses have been replaced, but the place is still standing in 2002. It was 20 feet wide and 35 feet deep, and they used every inch. My father says the kitchen was in the basement which was common at the time.

A few blocks away, at the corner of Montello and Neal, we found Samuel E Wheatley Elementary. Dad didn't recognize it at first with its two large additions. When he went there in 1920, it was a brand new school named for a very popular police commissioner and businessman. The building is empty now, but plans are underway to renovate. This is where Dad and Aunt Catherine walked to school, and where they learned to speak English. (Only Greek was spoken at home.)

Finally we went to the DC Farmer's Market on Florida Avenue.  A lot of the stalls are boarded up now, but Dad remembers when it was all going full force so it took us a while to find Litteri's Italian market- one of the few places left with a lot of history.

Little has changed since this Italian grocery and deli moved here in 1932. (Mom thought she even recognized one of the countermen.) After a long wait for sandwiches worth waiting for, we picnicked with the carpenter bees at my son Kit’s school, Hardy, which is being temporarily housed in the Hamilton School. I can't help but note that the building is located on Brentwood Parkway just off Florida Avenue, within walking distance of his grandfather's childhood.

Birthday Are Greek To Me

Tomorrow is my father George’s birthday, and it's hard to believe he is in his ninth decade.  He still drives his own car with the top down and acts like a much younger man. The true "Grecian Formula" may be the tradition of Name Days. Your Name Day is set by the saint you are named for and by that saint’s feast day. Traditionally name day are celebrated instead of birthdays, and years are not counted.

I know my Greek grandparents Pete and Pota probably did not know their own ages except that he was somewhat older than his bride.  When Pete had to fill out official documents here in America,  he made himself younger for insurance agents and older for census takers.

When Pete was about eighty in the 1950s, he had to go take the newly implemented driver’s test at the DMV on Indiana Avenue. George took him over there and watched through a little window. He saw his father was struggling. Even after forty some years in Washington, Pete still didn't have a firm grasp on the English language. After a few minutes,  somehow George managed to meet Pete in the bathroom. He proudly recounts that “they” got a 98 out of 100.

Next came the driving portion which involved a lot of orange cones. Pete hit every one. Fortunately, the inspector had been a customer at Churchill’s Bar and Grill, the family restaurant. George took the man aside and promised him that his father would only be driving to St. Sophia’s and to his daughter’s house and only on Sundays. He passed.

At that point in his life, Pete was wielding a large Cadillac which he kept in a tiny garage with tires hanging on the walls as parking cushions. George says he often drove right over the curb into Aunt Catherine’s yard, and she would yell at him from her kitchen window.

George is still passing any driving tests he has to take. He was born in DC where we have birth certificates, and we celebrate birthdays. George remembers he often received a five dollar gold piece on his birthday. He gave them all away over the years, but wishes he had kept one. To this day he gives his grandchildren and other kids he loves "gold" dollars as gifts. His favorite present, however, was the birthday gift that he bought himself at the age of eighteen: a used 1932 maroon DeSoto with black fenders.

Explaining Greek Easter

Easter is a big event in our family, at least on the Greek side. When I was growing up, I always got an Easter basket on American Easter, but then we would celebrate again whenever Greek Easter rolled around. The Orthodox calendar follows a different schedule, but what it usually means is that the Greek Easter bunny saves big on discounted candy. This year, however, much to the dismay of cheap Greeks everywhere, both fall on the same day.

My father George remembers going to St Sophia's for the midnight service and then a huge meal to break the fast in the middle of the night. I remember my Yiya always cooked a leg of lamb indoors. (She lived in Washington and might have freaked out the neighbors with the traditional lamb on a spit.) Later, when my Uncle Mimi moved out to Chevy Chase in the late 1940s, we could play baseball in the big side yard and roast whole animals with impunity.

If the weather was nice, tables were set up on the back terrace. I remember doing the Twist for the first time in their basement, and watching the Wizard of Oz on TV after dinner, but the best part about Greek Easter hands down is the Egg War.

All Greek Easter eggs are dyed a deep red for Christ’s blood. Some rely on food coloring, but my Yiya relied on red crepe paper. (Yikes) All symbolism aside, the seemingly sole purpose we Greeks dye a gazillion hard boiled eggs is to destroy them. To do this we take egg in hand and hit an opponent's egg or be hit. The egg that cracks is the loser, and the victor goes on until all eggs are broken, and only one grand champion egg holder is left in tact. (If you cheat like my father and uncle, you might slip in your thumb or, if really prepared, a marble substitute.)

These days my cousins, Dean and Ann have taken on the daunting task of having Easter at their house which is a frightful distance from Washington. They keep moving farther away, but it does no good. Many of us are well known for not missing a meal, and my brother drives all the way from Michigan. Some of my family can’t find their way out of a paper bag so they tend to travel in tribes and caravans with those that can.  Egg count this year is up to about 45, and the rainy forecast must have my poor cousins contemplating moving out of state, but until that happens, the Egg War will go on.

The Broadmoor Apartments

I ran across an old brochure from the Broadmoor Apartment Building last week. My grandfather, Roger Calvert was the first manager when it opened,  just before the financial crash in October. The Broadmoor is still a great place to live, but the olden days always sound so much more charming to me. Here are quotes from the booklet with comments and memories from my mother Bebe who lived there when she was 11 years old.

“On Connecticut avenue north of Porter street is the attractive apartment section of Washington. Here within a landscaped five acre setting of garden and flower decked promenades is erected THE BROADMOOR, an imposing edifice expressing the acceptable in modern architecture and fireproof construction. Within its 800 rooms are maintained the lovely apartment homes of lovely people.”

A lot of the Senators, the baseball kind, lived here, too. Bebe remembers going to games with her dad at Griffith Stadium, and all of the excitement when the team went to the World Series in 1933. Somewhere along the way legendary pitcher  Walter Johnson became friends with her father Roger.  That's Roger on the far left and Mr. Johnson on the far right.

She also remembers Huey Long arriving to stay with a great big entourage that scared my grandmother.

“Dining Room and Silver Grill: Decorated in the moderne.... The food is of the highest quality, and prepared by a particular chef who caters successfully to particular people.”

Here is the “dollar menu” from those days:

Choice: Fruit Cup- Iced Cantaloupe- Consomme Hot or Cold- Strained Chicken Gumbo-Iced Celery

Choice: Filet of Sole, Saute Meuniere- Fried Chicken with Corn Fritters- Grilled Sirloin Steak-Assorted Cold Cuts, Potato Salad
Sherbet
French Fried Potatoes New Peas in Butter
Green Corn Saute O’ Brien
Hearts of Lettuce Thousand Island Dressing
Choice: Green Apple Pie Fresh Peach Shortcake
Chocolate, Vanilla, Peach Ice Cream Raspberry Ice

Homemade Rolls

Tea Milk Coffee

Bebe had never had sherbet before and was very impressed with that- especially since it was not served as a dessert.

“All Apartments have outside porches and windows overlooking the garden of the Broadmoor or famous Rock Creek Park.”

Bebe remembers her little Roger hanging by his fingers from their window on the sixth floor, overlooking the garage.

"Most important to Milady:
All apartments have been designed to provide the utmost in comfort, and to eliminate home- making responsibilities to unusual degree...Waste from the kitchen and apartments is placed in receptacles, and noiselessly removed in the early morning by janitors from corridors outside apartments.”

A certain pet rabbit with a voracious appetite for undergarments was "noiselessly removed" and sent to live downstairs where the bellboys took care of him. Later, he reportedly lunged at a bellboy and was not seen again.

“Schools: The Broadmoor is close to all educational centers.”

Mom loved the private little bus that took the children to John Eaton.

“Beauty Shop: Within the Broadmoor. All approved treatments, and scientific care.”

Bebe got her first cool haircut called "The Windblown" here and left behind the detested "Dutch Bob"
of earlier years.

“Children’s Paradise: A play estate supreme, away from mere grown-ups, and in a wooded setting among wonder-trees and fairy verdure....Here the commanders of the sand pile, see-saw and swing develop to become the kind of men and women the world relies upon.”

That may have been all well and good, but Bebe remembers mostly hanging out on the beams underneath the building with her pals. One particularly noteworthy commander of that sandbox was John Hechinger. He grew up following his father into the hardware biz and had an early impact on Washington’s do it yourself hardware scene.

The Broadmoor also boasted a valet service, a laundry, a pastry shop, and a newsstand where Bebe hung out and read all the magazines for free. She also got movie passes for the Avalon Theater. She and Roger would take a picnic and ride the streetcar to spend the day at the movies. She also met my father when a friend brought some fellows over after school one day, but that's another story.

Pre TV in Washington D.C.

Every time I go to the movies these days, I find myself paralyzed in front of the concessions. My feeble and admittedly geeze-ing brain refuses to take in the current rate of exchange of currency for sustenance. Five dollars for a soda ? And that yellow stuff that goes on the popcorn? Seriously. What is that?

Yes, things have technically improved since I was a kid, but back in the days of the movie palaces, going to see a film was an extraordinary experience. My parents, Bebe and George, remember paying 15 cents for a whole day of entertainment.

Here's a visual glimpse of Washington DC's movie scene from local film maker Jeff Krulik.

 In 1925 when Bebe was eight and her little brother Roger was four, they would free range to the Tivoli at 14th and Park Road every Sunday and spend the whole afternoon in the theater.

Her favorites were the Westerns because she “loved watching all those horses run around.” She says Tom Mix was popular, but personally she didn’t think he was all that cute.

She also has a hazy memory of walking with her dad from Mozart Place to the Ambassador Theater on 18th and Columbia Road to see Al Jolson in the first "talkie"in 1928.

George remembers the three theaters near him on H Street NE: The Princess, The Apollo and The Empire. They were smaller, plainer theaters, but he could walk to all of them. He caught all the great silent films with Charlie Chaplin, Harold Lloyd and Buster Keaton and remembers the piano player creating the mood. He also was into Tom Mix and all those horses.

The Apollo from Library of Congress

When Bebe moved to the Broadmoor Apartments in Cleveland Parkin 1929, she hit the jack pot getting free passes to the Avalon Theater on Connecticut Avenue. Bebe and Roger would take a lunch, get on the streetcar (or strap on their roller skates) and spend the whole day on the theater, especially in the summer, when more houses were one of the few places in town with air conditioning.

Meanwhile George had moved uptown to Macomb Street in Cleveland Park in 1928. He offset the cost of  his "new" car, a used Model T,  by charging his sister Catherine and her friends Rose Papadeis and Julia Kekenes a quarter each to drive them downtown to the Earle on 13th Street which later became  the Warner Theater.

George and Rose on Macomb

Bigger venues like the Warner's might have had a live vaudeville show before the movie and charged a whopping 35 cents.

Bebe remembers seeing Cab Calloway at the Capitol which was around the corner from the Earle near 14th and F Street in the National Press building. In 1963, when the Capitol closed,  George’s buddy, Blackie Auger bought some of the theater's furnishings for his restaurant Blackie's House of Beef including wrought iron balustrades and a large painting of Cupid. According to his wife Lulu's memoir, when Blackie was sixteen, burning a hole in Cupid's belly button with a cigarette seemed like a good idea at the time. He bought the painting and hoped to make amends with his conscience by having it restored.

Bebe and George say the film that made the biggest impression on them was "Gone With the Wind." At that point, they were a very young married couple with two small children. Getting out to see a show was problematic. Sometimes they would steal away after the children were asleep which may have worked occasionally, but legend has it that my brother and sister woke up hungry once and decided to fix themselves grilled cheese sandwiches. In the toaster.

Merry Merry

Christmas for us has meant many different scenes over the years. Nowadays it's brunch at my parents' house. People who have had that breakfast have a hard time not coming back, even if they have become divorced from someone in our family. My mother Bebe turns out several varieties of eggs, creamed chipped beef, sausages, potatoes, chocolate muffins and an infamous pecan cinnamon coffee cake which can induce riots in the buffet line. This year my niece joined the Navy and was married over Thanksgiving so we had three new sailors at the table.  My eldest brother Pete played juice and coffee steward. My other brother Roger manned the scrambling station. Due to the extra bodies, we consumed a record four dozen eggs this year.

Christmas used to mean trimming the tree on Christmas Eve, dating back to the times when my father George would wait until the tree sellers on Massachusetts Avenue had packed it in for the season. After they turned the lights off, he'd slink over to the lots and root around in the dark. Sometimes the trees would be straggly and sometimes they would be OK, but he never knew what he had until he got it home. One year, when things were especially good, he grandly ordered a tree from Friendship Florist, and, according to family lore,  it was the worst tree EVER, so he never did that again.

By the time I came along, George was no longer liberating leftover trees. Instead, we went to the Florida Avenue Market where he could happily haggle with the vendors. I was always instructed to pretend like I didn't care about a tree. He would signal me to walk away and hang out at the ash can fire. This happened more than once during the deal, but we always went home with a tree, much to my relief.

A quick survey finds 1941 to be a favorite Christmas. The parents were finally homeowners on Dix Street in River Terrace. That year there was a live Cocker Spaniel puppy under the tree in a box and a Lionel train with real smoke. My mom and sister had matching red velvet dresses. Bebe remembers it was the last year before the rationing of World War Two.

Another favorite was 1939. That was the first year that Dad’s parents let him bring his non-Greek wife to Christmas at their place on Macomb Street. Dad remembers giving his father seat covers for his car. Papou thought they were blankets and tried to wear one.

The family Christmas party back then was always at Yiya’s and Papou’s place on Upton Street right across from the Friendship Post Office which was a Safeway.  I thought it was great my grandmother kept a grocery cart in her front yard. Plus she had an aluminum Christmas tree which eliminated any midnight runs to the tree lot.