Ierissos

IERISSOS

1987-2010

Margaret Holt Kefalas

My husband talks about “living in two worlds” because he has done just that. I really haven’t, but I do consider myself as having two countries. The United States of course where I was born is my native country, but Greece is my second country where I have spent more of my time outside the United States. Although I can say that I have travelled lots of the Greek mainland in more than two decades of summers, the place I know best is my husband’s beloved birthplace, Ierissos. Except for perhaps the newest housing developments that skirt the edges of Ierissos, I’m confident to say I’ve been on all the streets and paths and in many homes, shops, cafeterias, ouzeries, and even when I wasn’t old enough, the Kapi. I have old photographs of houses, the beaches, the boats, and most of all the people. I have photos of babies who now have their own babies. I have pictures of people I loved who are gone, and I am grateful they once allowed me to photograph them to rekindle the memories of the happiness they brought my way.

A few people, but not many, have asked me what I think of Greece and Ierissos in particular. Even fewer have asked me what changes I’ve observed in the span of time I’ve been able to come and stay. I love Greece, and some who know me there may not realize that I loved things Greek before I met my husband. Like many Americans my early encounters with Greek food and Greek music were exhilarating. I remember as a teenager listening to the music from Never on Sunday so often that I thought the record might become damaged. (So you cannot know how incredible it was for me to actually meet Jules Dassin in Delphi.)

Many of the changes that have jumped at me in recent years are certainly the changes in the infrastructure – the cultural center, the Kapi, the traffic light, the closing of open drains and installation of sidewalks, the paving of roads that at my first visits were unpaved and often caused clouds of dust to whirl in the air. There definitely weren’t as many residents and few many-storied houses. The crowds of people at the St. Elias festival seem to have tripled or quadrupled in recent years. There was only one big Greek Orthodox Church. Now there is a magnificent second one, and Agglelos has taken me inside and rung the gigantic bells. The agora has had an impressive facelift, and although some shops like Galitsanos have maintained their original ambience, new places have come and gone. Parking and one-way streets have become more “civilized”. Big groceries and general merchandise places operate, but they still seem out of place to me.

A sad change, which I understand was inevitable, is the disappearance of animal herds around our home. Although I’d been on farms in America, I had not been in the parts of America that are unfenced, so the joy of having shepherds, and cow and goat herders graze around Stavraqu was a thrilling experience for so many years. Now the numbers have dwindled and although an occasional cow may find an entrance, no longer do I wake to see a cow staring in my bedroom window. When I first came to Ierissos, once in a while, I would spot a man or woman atop a donkey, but now I only have photographs. These same people are seen transported in cars, and many while talking on their own cellphones. The juxtaposition of photos from then to now illuminates the rapid transition from primitive to ultra-modern technologies. Stell’s mother, Maria, used to carry trays of food to the ovens for baking. I haven’t seen anyone do this for several years. Oh don’t let me forget to say that when I first came to Greece, I don’t recall seeing one woman drive a car. I saw a few riding on their tractors. Now when I sit at Mitakos, at least every other car is driven by a woman. Families who had perhaps a couple of bicycles, and no car, now have at least two cars.

Another change I’ve noticed in the past couple of summers is fewer and fewer encounters with people singing local songs. Of course at some gatherings like the Full Moon Festival, the songs are revived. But in the informal places where I often heard the older men singing what appeared to me to be ancient songs with a deep resonation in their throats, the singing is less and less. I don’t know if the younger people have learned how to sing this way. I loved hearing these songs because, right or wrong, I imagined that in earlier days late in the night shepherds might be singing to entertain themselves with these musical stories, and to fight away the loneliness in the dark, shadowy, fields. I feel privileged to have heard these melancholy, and sometimes mournful, sounds. Also, it just seems to me the weddings are less and less following the old village traditions. That’s a shame. I loved the chances I had to go to the home of a bride or groom and observe and participate in some of these practices. There is nothing more delightful than seeing the wedding parties move by foot through the village to the sounds of a violin and accordion.

In recent years I’ve observed an intense expanded interest in the environment, the ecology of the village. Last summer (2010) was the first time there seemed to be much less garbage and plastic bags that made their way into the sea. The beach and grassy area approaching the beach are tremendously cleaner, and lovely places for romantic evening strolls. I believe many women in Ierissos have contributed their great minds and energy to raising new environmental standards for the municipality. For sure, there are men who have helped, but I believe the leadership has come from the women. Several men, at the same time, have made a very important civic investment in sports activities for the youth. The lack of a library and more youth facilities is something that has concerned me. Greek people are clearly strongly committed to the education of their children, so I think a library in Ierrisos for young and old should be constructed. When I first came to Greece, almost no one spoke English. Now I hear English everywhere.

I could go on and on, but Stellios has limited my writing space. I will close by saying the unimaginable opportunity I have had to spend my summers in Ierissos, Greece, has changed my life dramatically, and definitely for the better. Although I will always love the country Greece generally, when it is a cold snowy day in Watkinsville, Georgia, I will close my eyes and be transported to Ierissos to be in my mind with “my” people and the places that have added countless hours of joy, laughter, and kindness as “you” have always pulled me close into your circles. Ierissos is my Greek home.

Give the Bastards More Credit Than They Deserve

These are the last two paragraphs in an article by Freeman Dyson about Richard Feymann in the July 14, 2011, NYRB titled "The "Dramatic Picture' of Richard Feynman." I love the message. Best, M

Krauss shows us a portrait of a scientist who was unusually unselfish. His disdain for honors and rewards was genuine. After he was elected to membership of the United States National Academy of Sciences, he resigned his membership because the members of the academy spent too much of their time debating who was worthy of admission in the next academy election. He considered the academy to be more concerned with self-glorification than with public service. He hated all hierarchies, and wanted no badge of superior academic status to come between him and his younger friends. He considered science to be a collective enterprise in which educating the young was as important as making personal discoveries. He put as much effort into his teaching as into his thinking.

He never showed the slightest resentment when I published some of his ideas before he did. He told me that he avoided disputes about priority in science by following a simple rule: “Always give the bastards more credit than they deserve.” I have followed this rule myself. I find it remarkably effective for avoiding quarrels and making friends. A generous sharing of credit is the quickest way to build a healthy scientific community. In the end, Feynman’s greatest contribution to science was not any particular discovery. His contribution was the creation of a new way of thinking that enabled a great multitude of students and colleagues, including me, to make their own discoveries.

The Fainting Couch

The Fainting Couch*

By Margaret Holt

September 4, 2011

Everyone old enough to think about Sleep

Knows it comes in different types:

Snippets, Fits, Fanciful, Fantastical.

Place matters.

Just ask Goldilocks or R. Van Winkle if you don’t believe me.

Sometimes with sounds,

Light Puffs to Sawmills.

The lucky few find the special place

A Fainting Couch

Which they “fall out” or into

When the forces of fatigue

Overpower the will of their eyes.

Well beyond yawns they “fall out” or into

Their Fainting Couch

Relinquishing completely into its sweet, light embrace.

*Inspired by my “sister” Joan Burke following an exhausting journey delightfully resolved in good slumber