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chris.linden | April 14, 2009 at 07:23 am
Chris Linden
Growing up in the diverse city of Rockford, Ill., I never gave much thought to immigrants. They, like everyone else, blended into the urban landscape.
It was easy to forget that only a few generations ago, it might have been my family that was jumping the fence or getting off the boat.
In fact, it was. Ted and Georgia Bakakos—my grandparents—are the children of Greek immigrants.
They were the first generation born in <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 />America. But growing up on the West Side of Chicago, their families lived in two separate cultures, balancing the traditions of the homeland with the customs of a new country.
“We grew up learning two languages, and I think our generation is one of the best because we grew up learning two cultures,” Georgia Bakakos said, sitting in her suburban Glenview home. “Now we can sit back and laugh at the Greeks.”
But in the 1930s, it was no laughing matter. At the store, their parents struggled to buy basic supplies. At school, teachers and students failed to understand their different culture.
Ted’s sister, Edna, attended kindergarten twice. The first time, she was a translator for her brother, Peter.
At home, the children faced the regimens of family tradition, cooking and housework. Three days a week, they attended Greek school, where they learned the language and culture of their homeland.
Ted hated it so much he would sneak out of class and hide. Georgia’s brother had similar fits.
“We used to hate it,” Georgia said. “My mother would tell us, ‘Don’t complain. Someday you’ll go to Greece and know what they’re saying.’”
Greek was the only language spoken at home, but as the children learned more at school, the parents learned, too. Though they could seldom help with school work, these immigrants did everything they could to make a better life for their children.
“I give [my parents] a lot of credit, because it was very hard,” Georgia said. “I don’t know how they did it.”
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