“What I know is she came to me in the kitchen after dinner yesterday and embraced me strongly, as though she were my own daughter. For a moment, her body’s warmth made me think I was holding you. I almost screamed with longing. I felt in my endless veins each one of the thousands of miles separating me from you, and my blood flowed fast, rushing to reach you in Greece. My Koula, I miss you every hour. In my dreams, I search all over for you, I eat the universe to find you.” LoveLonelinessAbsence Book:My Xanthi Source: My Xanthi
“Xanthi came into my childhood in August of 1954, arriving at Union Station near the Chicago River, final stop in a transatlantic journey to help take care of me and my siblings in suburban Oak Park while Mom underwent treatment, such as it was in those days, for breast cancer metastases. Xanthi was a friend of my maternal grandmother’s, maybe even a distant relative. Didn’t matter to me as a four-year-old boy. Whoever she was related to, she left her home on the Peloponnesus to live with us for room and board and some money to send back home after a string of cataclysms bludgeoning Greece at the time.” ImmigrationGreeceNannyUnion Station Book:My Xanthi Source: My Xanthi
“Xanthi had passed through Union Station’s vast Beaux Arts atrium, the Great Hall, magnificent and scary to me as a kid...There she stood in black garments, individual, resilient. Her green eyes anomalous to the Peloponnesus, more common among mountain Greeks. She was like that one blade of grass my dad’s lawnmower couldn’t cut, no matter how many times he went over it. Almost no gray hairs glinted among her dark ones tucked back into a tiny bun. She stepped toward us, pulling out of a movie, away from the first decades of a century pockmarked by war, famine, earthquakes, and a Great Depression denting the hubris of Union Station, colossal behind her.” ChicagoGreeceNannyUnion StationXanthi Book:My Xanthi Source: My Xanthi