Easter

Since about 1983 or so, I have been part of a Greek family.  My mom married a Greek man and brought us into a different world.  Now my heritage is all northern Scandinavian so we’re a bunch of light-skinned blond people.  Imagine us entering this Mediterranean world.  My first memories of Easter with the Greeks are full of bowls of octopus, plates of sweetbreads, bottles of ouzo and loud, boisterous people speaking a totally different language.  It was a strange place that didn’t make me feel comfortable or at home.   As the years went on, I integrated bit by bit and all of the Greek traditions began to seep in and just become my own traditions.  I now can’t imagine Easter without them.  I haven’t seen an octopus around these here parts in quite a while, sweetbreads may have happened only once and ouzo is pretty scarce these days too.  We white people probably have diluted many of these traditions down quite a bit but those that have stuck around are pretty near and dear to my heart.  The cracking together of red eggs while repeating, “Christos Anesti” and “Alithos Anesti” (“Christ Has Risen” and “Indeed He Has Risen”), the Easter bread, singing of the Christos Anesti song before dinner and the loud, boisterousness of the family are all precious.

This year when I heard that the Greek side of the family was going to gather its remaining few-ish members and go to a buffet for Easter dinner, I decided to offer up my house.  I couldn’t imagine having an Easter without these few traditions that are still hanging on in our family.  We’ve lost a lot of members over the years and sometimes it feels like we’re really hanging on by a thread.  Of course things will never ever be the same as they were in these old, loud days with so many people speaking Greek and eating exotic things but I just can’t let go of what is left.  I’ve come to realize that this holiday in particular doesn’t have anything to do (for me) with its “Christian” purpose.  I can genuinely say that I don’t believe in any of the miracles that are taught in relation to Easter.  The magic I do now believe in, more than I ever have before, is family.  These traditions link my childhood to my children.  They link us through generations.  They are a shining example, through us white people joined to the Greeks, that family is what you create with those around you, not the biology and happenstance that created you.

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