PAPOO

I'm not sure how it should be spelled, but everyone has two.
Papoo is a Greek word for Grampa.

I was born in Detroit Michigan, but we moved to California when I was somewhere around the age of four or five. To this day I remember the trip from Detroit to California and how much fun it was.
I remember how hot the desert was and how I made a halter top out of an orange cloth that my Dad had picked up at a gas station. You are probably to young to know about that, but that many years ago (late 40's),almost all of the gas station attendance, had orange colored cloths that usually hung from their back pants pocket. I guess they were for wiping their hands?
Anyway my Dad had gotten a couple of clean ones from someone and my sister and I made tops out of them. I was so small all I had to do was tie a knot in the back of my skinny little self and I had a top.

My sister and I loved this new adventure. We sang songs to pass the time away. My Mom was just about the only one that never joined in, but every time my sister and I would start singing my Dad would always join in. He loved to sing along with us and even though we had to try to refrain from giggling between verses, we loved the fact that he loved singing as much as we did.
My Dad had a terrible voice, completely tone deaf. My Dad was the only male 'Pollyanna' that I have ever known.
For those of you that might not know what a Pollyanna is, it is a person that always looks at the bright side of things, even when things go badly.

As I was growing up I never remembered my relatives. As the years went by all I ever had was stories. My Mother was from Chicago from a huge family, twelve brothers and sisters. My Dad was from Detroit, a small family, three boys one girl.
Growing up all we had in the way of a relative was my Dads sister who made the move to California before we did. She was by the way, an awesome woman, someday I must tell you about her. My idol.

We did have a couple of visits from an uncle or two over the years on my Mothers side. On my Dads side we had many visits from one of my Dads bothers. He was crazy and fun and had a new Cadillac every year.

Anyway back to Papoo. Mom and Dad finally saved up enough money to take a trip and visit all of our relatives in Detroit and Chicago. My sister and I were both ecstatic. It was probably the only thing in our childhood years that we agreed upon as we were so far apart in age we didn't get along. I was ten and she was fifteen.

Detroit was nice. No Grampa there, he past away long ago. Grandma was something else. It was plain to see she wouldn't have had any trouble raising boys. When she talked they better jump.

I have to say for myself Chicago was the most fun for me. Some of my Mothers brothers were still living at home. Or maybe had left and come back home. Who knows? Greek people love their sons. I had a ball, most of them had boxed or wrestled at one time or another. My Uncle Louise pulled out a trunk and opened it to show me treasures from his Wrestling days.
I was in awe, he wrestled in the Navy and had all kinds of winning memorabilia trophies and 'the belt', that trunk was filled to the top.

But the one person that I will never forget was Papoo. He traumatized my sister and I still laugh when I think about the look on her face, Priceless.

Papoo was ill and he never came into the living room to visit, if you wanted to see Papoo you had to go to his room. I really think that is why so many of my Uncles were living there. It was probably to help Grandma (Yaya) more then for themselves. She was the total opposite of my Dads Mother. She was tiny, humble and soft spoken.

There was a room just off of the Kitchen about the size of a small bedroom that is where Papoo stayed and slept. But he would occasionally go from his bedroom to the kitchen and back again. He liked to cook a little, as long as his legs would permit him to stand.

He was a very distinguished looking man much better looking in his elder years then he looked in the old pictures my Mom had of him when he was young.
Tall slender, medium dark skin, with white hair and a mustache that seemed to complement his tan looking skin tone.

The kitchen, a crucial part of this story.

May sister had been outside and there was a pigeon that seemed to be in distress and she was able to catch it unharmed. She carried it to Papoo and showed him. He was laying in his room.
I remember it well, she said "look Papoo I caught a pigeon".
I remember what he said too. "Oh wonderful. Good Girl, give it to me and I will take good care of it".

The next day the three of us. Momma, me and my sister Georgia, went to visit Papoo in his room, Georgia was a couple of steps ahead of us, but when we entered the kitchen Papoo was up and he was in the kitchen. He had just opened the refrigerator door and was looking down into it When my sisters mouth fell open and Momma was nudging me not to laugh. She turned her head towards Momma and poor Mom just put her finger to her mouth to sign to her to hush and she kept saying but Mom. Papoo closed the door and turned to greet us.

My sister is trying hold back the tear, Moms face is bright red in fear that she might say something and I'm dieing here, I can hardly hold back the giggles as we all see this plate in the fridge with this fully plucked dressed to cook little tiny bird that my sister once called pigeon.

Apparently, pigeons are a delicacy in Greece, so Papoo took care of it the best way
he knew how.


Taken from an old News Paper Photo.

My Uncle Louise (Pronounced Louie)





If you like this story about my Grampa, you will love the one that I wrote only about Grampa , when he made wine
in the basement during prohibition days and got busted. He was much younger then.
It's called 'SWIMMING IN WINE'

Click the title