No school today in the tradition of Columbus Day, which of late, teeters on the brink of political correctness. As an Italian-American, I have mixed feelings…some which have roused the ire of the powerful purists and some which bring base … Continue reading
Lunch with a former student who just came back from Greece. I didn’t vacation this summer, so her stories of sun-drenched beaches, hot white sands and cool Greek personalities, drifting with the politics of the EU tingle my memories of when I lived in a very different Europe.
She offers me a bright red gift bag with a big smile before our sesame bread with tzatziki, Greek salad and Greek pizza in a Mediterranean restaurant whose decor of stucco walls and music of the tzouras and outi help me feel the warmth I miss in this too-harried world.
My afternoon is caressed by her young, energetic smile and kind words of encouragement. Meal dissipates like dreams into the Long Island humidity as we exit the restaurant and embrace with words of “see-you-soon.” I open the bag as I wrestle into my sweltering car and find a small bottle of genuine ouzo…the non-imported kind to quench a thirst for culture and a little magnet in the shape of a sailboat to bring my dreams back to me from the Aegean Sea. Efcharistó!
beyond me 