Advanced for His Age

Recently, I dropped Niko off at his M-W-F preschool and I was handed an incident report to sign. At this school reports are written up if something happens to the child or they've done something to another child. Sometimes they're as simple as Niko fell on the playground, or he pushed one of his classmates. But this one was more serious: he bit a kid.

It's pretty common for really young kids to bite because they lack the skills to communicate their needs. When he was a toddler, Gus was a big biter. His Oma, Liesel Schlosser, taught me how to break him of it: bite him back. It worked. But Niko was well beyond the age of biting being an option.

As I signed the report, I told the teaching assistant that I was perplexed that this type of bad behavior exists only at this school, and is nowhere to be found at his T - Th preschool at the University. I also noted these observations on the "comments" portion of the report.

Later that day I received an email from the school's director. She offered several hypothetical reasons for the different behavior at the two schools: class sizes, dynamics of the children, physical size of the classrooms, boy / girl ratios. All very legitimate.

She went on to describe how she saw Niko: "independent," "strong willed," "imaginative" and "rough and tumble." Maybe it was my reading of the email, but it seemed like she was describing his faults. Funny thing is we see these as some of his best attributes.

But here's the kicker: she said Niko is "very advanced for his age in teasing." Yes, you read that correctly. He's advanced in teasing. When I told this story to some family members, my cousin Apostoli nailed it, "Hey, Niko teases at a third-grade level."

How do I respond to that? "Lucky thing he's a good teaser or in our family he'd be crying instead of laughing all the time!"

I mean just look at the below photo Kelly took the other day at the ice rink: Is that the face of an advanced teaser? Wait, don't answer that...

Sophie M. Saltas

Wednesday I had the sad, yet great honor of joining 5 other men carrying our wonderful Theia Sophie to her final resting place. I feel as if a great sequoia has fallen. That's how influential, respected and revered Theia Sophie is in the Greek community.

Our community's loss is also my individual loss. But I am comforted by a plethora of wonderful memories.

- How she would call me late at night - knowing I was the only family member still awake - to share some tidbit of information: who was on Letterman, how the visiting Theia Polyxena had hidden herself in the bathroom at 3:00 a.m. to sneak a smoke, "as if she didn't think I could smell it!" (Confided to me in a hushed voice at midnight...), her anguish as she dealt with my Uncle Paul's ALS.

- The way she gently prodded me to finally find and accept my Orthodox Christian faith. "Gently prodded" are my words. Theia Sophie would say, "Nagged the hell out of me."

- Our wonderful time shared together in a terribly trying period of her life: dealing with Uncle Paul's illness and both her hands in casts after a slip on the ice. (A decision that reflected her deep faith: break your wrists or allow the prosfero, holy bread, to touch the ground.) There were trips to 3 grocery stores in one outing...because Dan's had the best produce, Meyer's the best meat, and some other place the best bread. Vacuuming for her just before the cleaning ladies showed up because we don't want them to think the house was dirty. Paying her bills with her and learning that no, we weren't going to pay the power bill a couple days before it was due because she earned interest on her checking account. (I offered her a nickle so she could make a profit. :0 )

- The years she spent one week every quarter at the U of Utah's English Department as an Add/Drop lady: back in those days to add a class or drop one, you had to get a card from the Add/Drop ladies. Before every quarter started, she'd call me, insisting that I make sure to drop by to see her. Get it? Drop by (that was her joke). And the first Friday of every quarter, she'd treat me to lunch - at the Panorama Room. The swanky restaurant on campus offering (of course) panoramic views, and food far better than that served in the student union.

It was while visiting her at her station I once witnessed her refuse to even consider allowing a young man to add a much needed class because he was smoking. Back then it was OK to smoke in the hallways, but Theia Sophie had declared her little area a non-smoking zone. The indignant student, who clearly had no use for anyone outside of academia, returned with the professor, his cigarette still dangling from his mouth. His self-satisfied "now you're going to get it" look scowling at us. The professor greeted Sophie and asked what the problem had been. Theia simply answered that the young man had a cigarette and her area was no-smoking; he could add the class when the cigarette was gone. Much to the student's amazement the professor turned to him and said, "If Sophie says it's a no-smoking zone, it's a no smoking zone," and walked off. The kid skulked away and Theia Sophia looked at me and uttered her harshest insult saved for the worst of the worst, "What a drip."

There are other stories, of course - how she taught me to make sucking sounds when making lemon soup so the eggs don't curdle (it works), or how she micromanaged my produce picking, but those are for another time.

I'm glad my boys got a chance to know Theia Sophie, even if she wasn't the "old" Sophie. I'll never forget the look of satisfaction on Gus' face, and the look of out-right pleasure on Theia Sophie's, when she asked him something in Greek and he responded correctly. Or the laughter Niko elicited from her when he said, "Tom the dad guinea pig did a poop and three babies were born."

Everyone who loved Sophie has lost something. The Greek community has lost a dedicated leader. My beautiful cousins, Yvonne, Karen, Joanne, and Diane have lost their mom. Their children have lost a yia yia. My dad, aunts and uncle have lost a cousin. And in Greek tradition I've lost a theia, technically, I lost a second cousin, but my cousin-in-law George put into perspective whom I really lost when he said to me, "Well, Chris, you've lost your friend." Because our age difference and familial bond notwithstanding, Theia Sophie was my friend.

You know, maybe she isn't a great sequoia that has fallen. When redwoods fall they become "nurse" trees, providing nutrition and offering access to light for young seedlings. For nearly 88 years, that's exactly what she always did: nurtured "seedlings." Maybe she's not a sequoia that has fallen at all. Maybe she's finally a sequoia that's standing tall.

May her memory be eternal.

Build a little bird house in your soul

Spring has arrived in the Mountain West. The daffodils, tulips and hyacinths are blooming. The apple and cherry trees are covered with sweet-perfuming flowers. And the weather changes by the minute: 70 today, snow expected within 36 hours.

And it's nesting season as well. A small house sparrow has built her nest in the faux forsythia wreath we have hanging next to the front door.



The boys eagerly await the chirps of hungry baby birds.



I dunno about you, but I think this nest at our front door is a pretty good omen!

Change Comes to Those Who Wait

Saturday, I found myself sitting next to my friend Kerri in the auditorium of West High School. We were delegates to the 2010 Salt Lake County Democratic convention. It had been 22 years since we last sat next to each other as delegates: the 1988 Utah State Democratic Convention, which we also organized - as we had the 1986 county convention.

It was a little surreal to be back at a convention again. The process I used to know like the back of my hand has changed and evolved. A whole knew troop of young, enthusiastic people are now running the show. They could have been Kerri and me in an earlier time, scurrying around trying to fix a problem that at the time seemed like it would be the end of the world. (No one seems to remember that it was my decision in 1986 to hoist the misspelled banner that announced the covention...or even that the mistake occurred.)

I saw several people whom I knew from my earlier days, many of whom are now the grand men and women of the party.

But something else has changed outside the confines of the political parties.

Kerri and I sat next to each other to hear the presentations of the candidates for the County Council District 1 race. (The County Council is similar to a County Commission or Board of Supervisors, depending on where you live in the U.S.)

This is an important race for those of us who live in the first district because in this state so horribly gerrymandered, this district is one of a few truly "safe" Democratic seats. Whoever the nominee is will be the next Council member.

And I think Kerri and I both sat with pride at the historic event we witnessed: all three candidates are openly gay men. All three. Each man took his turn on the stage surrounded by endorsing officials, family members and their same-gender partners.

One of the candidates was introduced by a handsome young man as, "the man I have chosen to spend with rest of my life with." Another candidate's adult son spoke of the courage his father showed to come out as a gay man.

And whereas these candidates are Democrats, and this district does consist of the most progressive areas in the state, this is still Utah, and this is welcome change that honestly, 20 years ago, I would have never believed would happen.

What can I say? Change comes to those who wait!

Do Pigs Make You Sneeze?

Have you ever seen those bumper stickers that say, "If you can read this thank a teacher?" I always found it a very thought provoking reminder of the importance of teachers in our society. Even though it didn't actually pertain to me. I learned to read before ever stepping foot into a classroom. My mom recognized my interest in reading and taught me herself.

Reading came easy to me.

But it didn't to Gus. Imagine: something that had always been so easy for me, always such a source of joy for me was a struggle and a burden for him.

As parents we did everything "right" - we read to him constantly as a toddler, we gave him educational games, we encouraged him. When it became clear that his Kindergarten classmates had advanced, with most of them reading by the year's end, through the kindness of a total stranger, we were able to enroll him in the U's first-grade readiness program during the summer.

There was improvement, but not enough. The director suggested that we hold Gus back and have him repeat Kindergarten. We sought the sage counsel of my cousin Sundee, a just-retired elementary school principal, who told us to listen to his Kindergarten teacher and promote him, but be prepared to offer him all the extra help he may require.

His first grade teacher almost immediately added breakout reading sessions for him. We arranged for our wonderful friend Cassie, a reading specialist, to work with him twice a week. We worked with him as well.

I'd like to say that did the trick, but it wasn't until Gus was diagnosed with ADD that the breakthrough really occurred. Within two weeks of being treated, he started really reading. At his last parent - teacher conference, Kelly and I beamed at his progress report. He'd gone from being dangerously behind to being basically on par with his peers.

He's still not quite there yet, and he's still getting all the extra help, but every day we're seeing more and more improvement.

But here's the best part. He loves reading...at least to Niko. Their favorite book was a gift from our friend Aimz, Pigs Make Me Sneeze.

I can't express how it felt to see Niko grab that book the other night and ask Gus to read it to him. I watched Gus tackle page after page, all the while his little brother roaring with laughter.



Gus reading another book by request...

A Party on Good Friday

Several years ago - well before the boys were born - I came to Utah on business. I had meetings the Wednesday and Thursday prior to Greek Easter, so I took a vacation day on Friday and stayed in Salt Lake to celebrate the holiday with my family.

I wanted to make the most of this unexpected visit, so I made plans to see my friend, Aimz. Only thing was that she was only free on Friday, so we agreed to go out for drinks after dinner.

That afternoon, my Theia Sophie called me (for those non-Greek readers, Sophie is actually my dad's cousin, but in Greek that makes her my aunt...it's confusing to you, I know, but makes complete sense to us!) She asked me if she would be seeing me at church that night. Maybe I should have been non-committal and said "I'll try." Instead, I told her about Aimz and drinks.

That's when she let me have it: She was horrified that I would even consider going out and enjoying myself on Good Friday. She reminded me that Jesus had had only one chance and he didn't use it to have a good time. When I was unconvinced by her arguments, she made me promise not to go dancing and instructed me not to have a good time. (That evening, the irrepressible Aimz - a devout non-believer - told every bar tender and server we met that we were not having a good time.)

Well, my Theia Sophia must have influenced me. Saturday I was shocked to learn that Niko had been invited to a birthday party on Good Friday. A birthday party...on Good Friday!

The invitations posed a great conundrum for me: Do I let my son go to the party or do I tell him he cannot attend? I know many people - perhaps even some who read this blog - who without hesitation would keep him home. And I know people, who would smirk at me for even considering not sending him to the party.

But I think it's a greater issue that many ethnic and religious minorities probably also deal with: the conflict between personal "traditions" and the activities of a larger society.

The birthday boy's family are wonderful, loving people. But they have a different tradition. One in which Good Friday doesn't have quite the impact it does in Orthodoxy.

I want my kids to understand and embrace their dad's culture, but I also want them to be typical American kids. I remember what it was like to pull a blood-red egg out of my lunch sack weeks after "American" Easter, and have the entire table stare in disbelief - assuming the egg had long gone bad (or was a pink PAAS aberration.)

So we compromise: The Easter Bunny visits our house...even when American Easter falls during Orthodox Lent. My kids can have fun during Lent...even on Good Friday.

This whole situation reminded me of something I heard from Fr. John Bakas of Saint Sophia Cathedral in L.A.: statistics repeatedly show that people are more likely to attend church services as adults if they attended them as a child with their father. My boys will get their religious cues from me. The choices I make will influence their choices. The way I handle the conflicts of a 1st-century religion in a (thankfully) secular 21st-century country will determine how they deal with them.

So in the end, Kelly and I decided that he'll take Niko and Gus to the party. A three-year old won't understand why he's not having cake and playing games at his buddy's party. I will not attend. If asked by other parents or the boys, Kelly will smile and tell them I'm preparing for Good Friday services, and if pressed that in my religious tradition a party on Good Friday isn't appropriate.

As the boys get a little older, they will attend Friday-night services with me. And when they're men, I hope they'll follow the example I've tried to set - just like the example my much-loved Theia Sophie set for me. I hope they'll have a foot planted squarely in both cultures, will compromise on the insignificant differences, and stand firm on the bigger questions of our faith. Kalo Pascha.

Citius, Altius, Fortius! My Olympic Adventure!

You know a vacation is going to be good when the very first day includes:

- flying to another country on a plane with propellers that seats less than 60 people;
- praying you don't have to lie to Canadian custom officials by saying you're staying with friends (whom you've never met in your life)and whose surname you didn't jot down; and
- laughing so hard your stomach hurts because you and your best friend are crouched down in the hatchback portion of a Suburu hiding from the Mounties because you have 7 people in a car that seats 5.

Now that's a vacation!

Our Generous Hosts:

Long story short, our original accomodations fell through so all six of us ended up descending upon the home of Martin and Judith Siegert - whom John, Sabine and Mary had met last year while rafting some remote river in the Yukon. How cool are they to generously open their basement to six Americans? What amazingly folks - they made our trip.

Events:

We were hoping to get some additional tickets, but the Canadians bought the place out. However, we were able to see:

Curling - for those who don't know, curling is sort of like shuffle board...on ice... and with brooms. We saw a men's round robin featuring the Canadian team (that went on to win the gold), the Norwegians (who would get silver, and whose garish harlequin pants were the talk of Vancouver...and their King Harald), the Chinese, Swiss, French, Danes, Brits and Swedes.

A couple of days prior to the event, we took a curling lesson - I reminded everyone you never see ice on the Acropolis, and I naturally sucked. Kelly, of course was brilliant. It gave us a new appreciation of the sport and the night before we left we had a little match...I'd improved enough to be the Lead on the men's team as we trampled the women! Of course, the Lead is usually the weakest link...but I think I'm probably good enough to be Skip (as in skipper) of the Greek national team in Sochi in 2014...





Women's Hockey - we were lucky enough to see the bronze medal women's hockey match between Sweden and Finland. Naturally, we split evenly between the Swedes and the Finns. Seeing how I had a LOT of blue and white, I was a natural Finn...and I like to think that it was MY inspiration that helped the team win its first-ever women's hockey medal! Oh, and before the game I got to eat an Yves veggie dog. That's right, VEGGIE dogs at hockey events! Is Canada great or what?



2-women bobsleigh - it rained at Whistler that day. But with the Greek flag draped around me I wasn't cold...no, I was warm in the embrace of Mother Greece. 'Least that's what I was telling everyone. And as the ONLY Greek flag to be seen the ENTIRE week we were there, I was also much photographed! (I reminded people that without the Greeks there'd have been no Olympics...or math, science, or history.) It was really great: when the Canadians came in 1 and 2 the crowd spontaneously burst into "Oh, Canada." Um, we politely reminded everyone that the US team took bronze...on the way to the Americans' record-breaking 37 total medals.






Other Highlights:

Well, taking a bus, train, seabus, different bus, and gondola to Grouse Mountain to go snow shoeing...only there wasn't really enough snow to warrant snowshoes, so we muddle our way to the top in our boots. Oh, then we slid down on our butts! (I stupidly wore Levi's, earning me the nickname "Sticky Pants"...that is until I body luged - head first - down the last part!) In the gondola with close to 100 other people, Kelly uttered possibly the best line of the Games. Crammed up against everyone, he looked at me he said, "So, I guess it's safe to assume I'm over my claustrophobia thing."

Even when the Games aren't in town, there's an hour wait at the Japadog cart in downtown Vancouver. John bravely stood in line for close to 90 minutes to get one regular and one veggie Japadog (again the veggie dogs!). Basically they're a hotdog with dried seaweed and teriyaki mayonnaise on them. Yeah, I don't think I ever need to eat another one...

Although if they opened in America, Kelly argues I'd never step in one, I couldn't get enough of Tim Horton's. It's kind of like a Duncan Donuts but with breakfast meals. Sabine and I really dug the (B)ELTs (Bacon, Egg, Lettuce, and Tomato, minus the bacon). Plus, they offered an array of donuts and donut holes, which we took back to Martin, who encouraged me to wash them down with beer. Donuts, beer and curling on TV, does it get any better than that??

But most of all, we enjoyed what the Olympics are really about: meeting people and laughing and for a moment forgetting what separates us as nations. Whether it was cheering with the Finns, or chatting with an older Austrian guy, or surprising some Russian athletes when I thanked them in their mother tongue for retrieving Terry's hat, it was nice just to be a citizen of the world.

Of course, it helps to have some of the greatest people in the world traveling with you. And meeting fantastic new friends like Martin and Judith.



Oh, and since this blog is about being a dad, yes, we missed the boys...starting about the third day. And when we walked down to the luggage claim area at Salt Lake International, they shouted our names and threw themselves into our arms. And honestly, that was better than winning a gold medal.