My Yiayia’s sister Thea Elaine would have been 109 (I think that is her number) on Sunday, the day after my birthday. She lived the longest of anyone whom those of us still living have met in our Greek family. She got to be over 92 by a couple of months.
There were rumors of family members in Greece making it to 100 or so. Our Papooie would regale me with stories of the longevity of his clan in Greece.
He also told me about the time he was "dead"!
Apparently he was laid out and his body all washed and dressed (albeit prematurely) by the village woman. His family of Mildreds and Katherines and Louises and Nicks (remember they used those same names over and over for centuries) were in deep mourning when he “came to", all sobbing and whaling loudly. He loved telling me this story of how he had been thought dead and how crazily everyone reacted to his coming awake. His take on it was that he had gone into a deep coma after hitting something when in the sea swimming. So he almost drowned, and maybe that was from his first receiving a concussion. He was not sure of the order.
He was swimming and things just went blank for him and next he knew he was on a slab at the village where the village ladies prepared the dead for the funeral service and burial. They did not embalm, fortunately. He said that he was about sixteen years old at the time.
.
He apparently at the time had no near death experience and he never once mentioned Jesus or God in the telling of these stories, nor were there dark tunnels or such, which is interesting to me. I seriously doubt that he was very religious when I recall this story and how he told it.
What he did stress to me with a smile and his crinkly eyes though was that if he had died, then I would not be born.!That really make me think! Getting to be born seemed pretty special and a result of everything going just right. I started to grapple with all this at my Grandfather's knee.
As I turn 65 it is a real pleasures is having Aunt Mary, his youngest daughter, to chat with a bit each day. She has lots of stories for me of when I was very little. Not so many folks have those memories these days. I love the stories about my hiding under tables to avoid Yiaya's watchful eye. She loves to tell me this one and I love to hear her tell me. Family stories are just family stories, but I think they have great importance to us.
There were rumors of family members in Greece making it to 100 or so. Our Papooie would regale me with stories of the longevity of his clan in Greece.
He also told me about the time he was "dead"!
Apparently he was laid out and his body all washed and dressed (albeit prematurely) by the village woman. His family of Mildreds and Katherines and Louises and Nicks (remember they used those same names over and over for centuries) were in deep mourning when he “came to", all sobbing and whaling loudly. He loved telling me this story of how he had been thought dead and how crazily everyone reacted to his coming awake. His take on it was that he had gone into a deep coma after hitting something when in the sea swimming. So he almost drowned, and maybe that was from his first receiving a concussion. He was not sure of the order.
He was swimming and things just went blank for him and next he knew he was on a slab at the village where the village ladies prepared the dead for the funeral service and burial. They did not embalm, fortunately. He said that he was about sixteen years old at the time.
.
He apparently at the time had no near death experience and he never once mentioned Jesus or God in the telling of these stories, nor were there dark tunnels or such, which is interesting to me. I seriously doubt that he was very religious when I recall this story and how he told it.
What he did stress to me with a smile and his crinkly eyes though was that if he had died, then I would not be born.!That really make me think! Getting to be born seemed pretty special and a result of everything going just right. I started to grapple with all this at my Grandfather's knee.
As I turn 65 it is a real pleasures is having Aunt Mary, his youngest daughter, to chat with a bit each day. She has lots of stories for me of when I was very little. Not so many folks have those memories these days. I love the stories about my hiding under tables to avoid Yiaya's watchful eye. She loves to tell me this one and I love to hear her tell me. Family stories are just family stories, but I think they have great importance to us.
(pictured to the right is Aunt Louise, Yiaya and Papooie's 2nd daughter and my Godmother - taken a couple of years before she passed at 87+ and to the left is a photo of my Aunt Mary, Papooie's youngest daughter of his eight children. She is holding Aunt Louise's great-grand-daughter, Lilli)
