Yiayia, the track, and a final lesson

I’m back at it. Sorry for the absence of post over the past few months. Life seemed to get in the way of my writing. I’m sure most of you found some way to fill the void of my lack of masterful rants and complaints. The ones that didn’t, I owe you a cup of tea.

 I usually return home to southeastern Michigan two to three times per year. I visit family, friends, and watch some sort of sporting event. The Red Wings in the autumn, Tigers in the spring, and if I’m really lucky, the Hazel Park Harness Racetrack with 101 WRIF comrades, Mike “Gags” Gagliano, Brett “The Golden Jew” Panter, and Gerry “Serpico” Gerrardi. Screaming at pre glue factory horses to run faster as a has-been jockey whipped them on 7 dollar “prime rib” night isn’t for everyone. But hey, it’s America.

 In between stuffing my face with Coney Island hot dogs which are banned by the state of California (Not true, but for a second you believed me) and drinking local beers not found on the west coast, I enjoy spending time with the people I love. My family.

 This trip was different. My grandmother, known to me and others as “Yiayia” has been battling cancer off and on over the past few years. Nobody has fought this evil disease with more grace and class than my Yiayia.

 So when my father requested that I come home earlier this year than I had originally planned, I prepared myself to ask the final questions of a life that I still continue to cherish. I knew there wouldn’t be a “next time” or “we’ll talk about his later”. I mentally lined up everything I felt I needed to ask and know. As usual, my Yiayia had other plans.

 Regina Verros had a plan like most Verros’ do. As we talked everyday for two weeks, she asked the questions, not me. She verbally took my pulse by asking me “What do you think about Greece and their financial situation? What do you think about Kwame Kilpatrick (Former mayor of Detroit who is now incarcerated)? Hows your job? What are your plans for the next 10-15 years? Apparently, she was going to do most of the talking.

 I found out something within those two weeks. My Yiayia was giving me her last lesson. The lesson was “know who you are and what you represent”. With a certain elegance she informed me what to watch for as I get older, how to deal with in-laws and children, what to do when you hit your senior years, and most importantly, don’t let anyone, anything, or any past actions define who you are. Always be in control of your decisions and be aware how they will affect others.

 My questions of “Would Papou (my grandfather) approve of this or that?” “Why don’t my in-laws think I’m the greatest thing since sliced bread?” or “How do I get my uninterested in Greek cuisine Anglo-Saxon wife to learn how to make spanikopita like you?” seemed to go by the waste side.

 The final lesson was complete when I left. Instead of final goodbyes and sadness, as I was preparing for, it was met with something completely different. A final question “Did you make it to the racetrack with your friends? I hope so; your Grandfather liked it very much”.  

Even in one of my saddest times in my life, she still made sure to assure me that there’s a balance between taking yourself serious without taking yourself serious.

Lesson learned Yiayia. I will miss you.