A Greek-Canadian story from the 1940s: Our family of families, by Nicholas Spillios

Nicholas Spillios grew up in Edmonton's small Greek community in the 1940s, and remembers how the celebration of 'name days' kept old-country traditions alive.

In the forties, Edmonton was family. The Greek community consisted of perhaps twelve families. We had no church, no hall for socializing and no single neighbourhood where we congregated. All we had was the overall family - the family of families - our Greek community. It was a warm and inviting place to live, and one which I shall always fondly remember.


There was no rank. Some people appeared to be more well off than others, but that didn't appear to make any difference. Everyone treated everyone else with little consideration of economic station, and with respect. Our families supported and reinforced each other through good times and bad times.


Greeks were independent. They ran their own businesses, usually restaurants because that was what they knew best: how to prepare good, wholesome food at reasonable prices. It never occurred to them to serve anything but a mixture of British-Canadian food. I know that my non-Greek friends always enjoyed an enticing Greek meal in our home consisting of lamb, lemon-roasted chicken and spanikopita. The cooks never considered serving Greek food in their restaurants, or that any customers would be inclined to like it.


The closely-knit fabric of the community, and its members, was always evident and always pervasive. As a youngster I saw it demonstrated many times. I still recall a family friend who operated a grocery store a few doors west of the Strand Theatre. On one occasion he took ill. My father and others descended on the store, and purchased every perishable item in sight, in order to save the owner the worry of operating the store. I don't if they also managed the shop during their friend's illness but I wouldn't be surprised if they did.


In the Greek culture, the celebration of name days took precedence over the observance of birthdays. In my home, we celebrated St. Nicholas Day (my name) in early December and St. George's Day (my father's name) in late April. Our home was literally an open house for everyone including the Johnsons of the Johnson's Cafe; the Agrios' and Varvis' of the St. Regis Hotel which was located on the site of the current Sheraton Hotel; and many other friends and acquaintances, not of Greek descent, but who dropped by anyway. Everyone was welcome.


While most Greek families were recent immigrants, there were many who were not. Consequently the circle extended beyond the community and included many friends who arrived for a feast and moved on to the next Nicholas on the list in another part of town. In later years my wife Charlotte and I picked up on this tradition and continued to celebrate the day with enthusiasm and gusto. Somehow, this tradition has almost disappeared in today's community, although the first generation continues to embrace it. I am reminded of the date every year when close friends and relatives still call, although we all realize that the open house concept of yesteryear has all but disappeared.


The celebration of Christmas was a happy time as we congregated at the Varvis' for Christmas dinner. It was taken for granted that we would visit. Why? Because my good friend and school chum was Chris whose name we celebrated. But New Year's Eve was our turn with everyone visiting us. We would roll up the carpets in our living room, push back the furniture, and enjoy Greek dances. During the festive season, it was not Greek food that was served but the traditional Canadian turkey with all the trimmings. Our parents had adapted well. As for my good friend, John Agrios, today's Federal judge, his turn came later on January 6 when his parents celebrated in a similar manner.


Our togetherness was never more evident than in the summer when families would travel to Elk Island Park for the day. All families competed for food quantity, not to mention quality. On a particular Sunday, would it be the Agrios', the Varvis' or the Spillios'? Whoever won was not important. Other families, knowing we were there, would arrive during the afternoon and be treated. One had little choice on selection of food as the comment, "No thanks," was not in our parents' vocabulary. I always regretted partaking of Mr. Varvis' garlic with its strong odour, which carried me into school the next day, to the discomfort of my classmates. But somehow, it did serve its purpose. Other families looking for an appropriate picnic site refrained from encroaching on our area, leaving the more choice spots to our visiting friends and us.


I still keep in touch with many of our friends from this long gone but remembered era. Name day celebrations are practically non-existent, although the greetings remain in the Greek community today. The former closely knit community has changed, replaced by a new arrival of immigrants with their own perceptions and values. However, my memories cannot be erased, nor can those of my friends who still remain in Edmonton.