The Civil Servant: A Personal Story of an American Immigrant

By Maria Consoli Toulas

THE CIVIL SERVANT

is a memoire which tells the story of a Greek immigrant who longed to be an American Civil Servant. It also reaches back to the authors roots in Italy and stretches across the American landscape to modern times.

It is timely, humorous and poignant. This is a record of the soul of one successful American immigrant told by an onlooker, his wife.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jan 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781475972290

Maria Consoli Toulas

Maria Consoli Toulas, a retired Bellmore-Merrick social studies teacher lives in Rockville Centre, NY with her husband Andreas. They have been married for forty-one years and have two children. Over the course of years Maria had kept journals that she combined into THE CIVIL SERVANT, a love story and a family history of immigration and acculturation into American society.

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THE CIVIL

SERVANT

A PERSONAL STORY OF AN AMERICAN IMMIGRANT

Maria Consoli Toulas

iUniverse, Inc.

Bloomington

The Civil Servant

A Personal Story of an American Immigrant

Copyright © 2013 by Maria Consoli Toulas.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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ISBN: 978-1-4759-7228-3 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4759-7229-0 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013900960

iUniverse rev. date: 01/23/2013

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 May I Brrrush My English . . .

Chapter 2 This Is A Dream Come True

Chapter 3 You Are Wasting Your Money . . .

Chapter 4 May I Escort You Home?

Chapter 5 I Am An Independent Woman

Chapter 6 May I Go Home?

Chapter 7 Come On, You Know The Golden Rule

Chapter 8 Time Will Tell

Chapter 9 You Have To Choose

Chapter 10 These Fellows Sure Know How To Have Fun

Chapter 11 I Asked Johnny To Pray . . .

Chapter 12 It’s Not Nice Not To Be Nice . . .

Chapter 13 Cablevision. May I Help You?

Chapter 14 What Did You Say?

Chapter 15 A Wedding Is A Wonderful Thing

Chapter 16 If It Is Meant To Be . . .

Chapter 17 They Are Doing Me A Favor . . .

Chapter 18 If I Were The Prime Minister Of Greece . . .

CHAPTER 1

May I brrrush my English . . .

"May I brrrush my English with you?" he said, looking down at the petite woman sitting on the grassy knoll.

Excuse me? she said, looking up at the tall, thin stranger.

He repeated, "May I brrrush my English with you?"

She thought for a moment and when she translated the meaning to herself she replied, Oh, you want to talk to me?

Yes, he said politely, with a nod and a charming smile, which caused the dimples in his shaven cheeks to deepen.

My name Andreas. You?

My name is Maria, she replied, with some hesitation, as she sized up the stranger talking to her. He was the thinnest man she had ever seen. He stood nearly six feet tall and the fact that he had no body fat on his torso, arms or legs, made his slender toes and fingers appear elongated. She could count his ribs, which protruded from his thin, tanned, uncovered upper body. She imagined that a mild wind was enough to blow him over. He had olive skin, a full head of coarse brown hair, a dimple on his chin, one on each cheek and piercing brown eyes, which were turned down at her to avoid the glaring sun. He wore a scant, yellow bathing suit, which clung to his hips like a pinned diaper, exposing his very hairy legs. His face was familiar, like someone she already knew, perhaps her brother Frank or her cousin Vinnie. The southern Italian men in her family all had dark brown eyes, warm brown hair and very dark eyes and they all looked hairy in their bathing suits. Although his speech was heavily accented, he seemed perfectly comfortable speaking to her in English. His accent sounded like a combination of Clint Eastwood’s American movie English and James Bond’s cockney English: charming but not always intelligible. She was a good listener and with patience and much effort she could decipher his speech patterns despite his mispronunciation of words and the harsh guttural tone of his voice. Maria considered Mediterranean men awesome and she instinctively felt totally at ease talking to this perfect stranger.

The charming Greek man stood barefooted in the hot sand while leaning his right hand against the pine tree, under which the two American girls had placed themselves. Maria motioned for him to sit down on the makeshift beach-blanket. He sat next to Maria and stretched his long, bony legs their full length, causing his flat feet to protrude beyond the grass, reaching the point where the towels met the small pebbles and saffron colored sand. The pine tree they sat under provided little shade from the blistering hot August sun. The blue Mediterranean Sea stretching before them sparkled and reflected the sun’s light off the white sand onto the pebbled beach. The glare from the hot sun was intense.

Where do your come from? he asked Maria as he continued to adjusted his tall, thin frame, seeking a comfortable position.

From America, she answered.

North America or South? he asked.

North, of course! she quipped, narrowing her eyebrows to produce a look that reflected her annoyance. To her he had asked an inappropriate question. Wasn’t it obvious that she was from The United States?

Canada or The States? he asked.

The United States, she replied. Her eyebrows slowly turned toward her forehead as she first internalized the facts, South America was indeed a distinct, separate place, but still America, and Canada was indeed part of North America. She was glad that he could not discern her thoughts through her eyes. She was surprised at her ignorance of how the rest of the world considered the American Nation as just one of the many nations across the Atlantic Ocean, on the American continents. She adjusted the sunglasses slipping off of her nose as she recuperated from her humbling encounter with reality.

Which state? he continued.

New York, she chuckled, thinking this inquisition was indeed amusing and revealing.

You born there? he asked with a quisling look.

Yes, why do you ask? she replied pondering his next comeback.

You no look like you born in United States. You no look like American people. He continued to press on as he took his right hand off the blanket and raised his fingers to cup his right cheek, covering his deep dimple. He was under the impression that all the North American women were tall, fair and bleached blondes, nothing like this petite, olive skinned beauty before his eyes. He was confused. She was delicate looking, thin arms and legs, a small face, her thick golden brown hair was cut short in layers over her small head and her eyes were as dark and black as olives from Kalamata. This American certainly did not fit his stereotyped image of an American girl.

I was born in Brooklyn, New York, USA, and so were my parents. Does that surprise you? He looked perplexed and she caught the look of doubt in his facial expression.

My grandma and grandpa migrated from Italy, Naples and Sicily in the late eighteen and early nineteen hundreds, she explained.

My mother and father were born in Brooklyn, New York, so that makes me one hundred per cent American, she continued, using her teacher’s voice.

He did not understand the meaning of the words grandma and grandpa and had a puzzled look on his face. Unfamiliarity with certain words was Andreas’ nemesis.

Maria thought about her growing up years in Park Slope, once considered a WASP (White Anglo Saxon Protestant) neighborhood in Brooklyn. Maria had often doubted that her family was indeed real American. They were often treated as interlopers by their neighbors. Many relatives conversed in Italian, her family celebrated the name days as well as the birthdays of some of the older relatives, her immediate family always ate at a set time each day and the family diet usually included some pasta, tomato sauce and green vegetables. However, when Andreas intimated that she was not a real American she became outraged and found herself defending her nationality to herself and to him. Perhaps she did not fit the stereotype American woman, usually considered tall, fair skinned, blonde, dumb and beautiful, but she was indeed born in the United States of America and that made her a genuine American citizen. She chuckled to herself at the thought of having to prove her nationality based on how she looked. This had happened to her in Mexico, where she was questioned about her American nationality. It would happen again on her visits to both West Germany and Israel. The movie stereotype of the All American Girl, often portrayed by Diana Shaw or Marilyn Monroe, as well as the Miss America Beauty Pageant’s fair-haired white beauties contestants, did much to reinforce a view of what an American woman looked like in the 1960’s. At that time, physical characteristics were always that of the white Anglo-Saxon stereotype.

"You look more my sister Maria than American girl. You are from Italy family? Ah, una faca, una raca! How you say?" He rolled his eyes toward the tops of their lids, as if searching his brain for a translation.

One face, one race. Is that what you are trying to say? She quickly replied, recognizing the expression from her limited Italian.

Greeks and Italians alike in looks, yes? he said, as he bent his lean body over to invade her space and lightly touch her hair and skin.

I guess so, she replied, embarrassed that he was invading her space by touching her.

The next few moments were punctuated with an uncomfortable silence until the quiet man who had accompanied Andreas spoke.

My name is Jimmy, he said, as all eyes now focused on him. His belly, balding hair and sparking gold tooth, suggested a salty, older man. He leaned over to face the two girls sitting on the towels, so as to be sure he was understood.

I be to America many times with Greek boats, he volunteered, speaking in broken-English that was much more understandable than Andreas’ speech.

Ellie motioned for Jimmy to sit down. He slowly sat next to Ellie on the corner of the makeshift blanket, gingerly stretching his short legs onto the burnt grass.

Did you work on a cruise liner? Ellie asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

No, big merchant boat, he explained. I only go New Orleans. I go many times. That how I learn speak such good English, he further explained, flashing an immense smile, which showed his gold fillings.

It was too difficult to carry on two conversations, so Maria turned her attention to Andreas, while her friend Ellie continued to focus on Jimmy and New Orleans.

Do you live in Athens? Maria asked Andreas, as she recovered from her self-consciousness.

Yes, a bus ride from here, he continued.

Where did you learn to speak English?

I go to British school in Athens at night, but I need practice speak English. May I brrrush my English with you? he repeated. Not waiting for an answer he continued to speak.

What you do in States? he asked.

I teach history in a public school, she replied, crooking her neck to look up at his face, trying to avoid the sun, which was now shinning between the tree’s branches.

That is my friend Ellie, she also teaches, Maria said as she pointed a finger towards Ellie, who was having a separate conversation with Jimmy. Andreas said for everyone to hear, I work for the Greek Government. I clerk in Ministry of Agriculture. I go high school and get very good government job. I come to beach free. I have a pass from government. I travel bus free. I take you home later! Yes?

They did indeed escort them home that day and even were able to convince the girls to let them be their tour guides during the ten days vacation time they planned to spend in Athens. On their way home that day, Andreas wanted to practice his English and so Maria was a captive audience for the recitation of his history. He explained that he had a small job, with little pay and some benefits and he confessed that his dream was to go to America. He had grown up in a small village, Martino, on the mainland of Greece and looked forward to the day he would become a citizen of the United Sates of America. Work and school were his aims!

Andreas also told her that he suffered from chronic ear trouble as a child and his hearing was limited in both ears. He explained that school was difficult for him because of this, but said he was smart and determined to secure his high school diploma. He had convinced his father to allow him to attended high school in a neighboring village since Martino had no high school. He boarded away for two years, but food was not included in the price of the bed his parents rented from a peasant family. During his years in the Atalanti High School, his sainted mother would send him one meal each day by public bus. This usually consisted of a bowl of okra, beans or lentils, some bread, cheese and olives. The meal always survived the hour trip in the belly of the public bus, only to be devoured in less than five minutes by the growing, lean, hungry teenage high school student.

Maria Tsoutoulas, was four years younger than Andreas and was among the first girls to attend the new high school built in Martino. Her teachers recognized her exceptional intelligence and encouraged her to finish high school in Athens, so she would be better prepared to take the difficult entrance exam to the university there. The family was honored when she was accepted at the University of Athens as a Political Science major in 1969. After graduation in 1973, she too immediately got a very civil service job with the government.

The Tsoutoulas family lived in an apartment in the section of Athens known as Ilissia, away from the heat of the inner city. This apartment was located close to the University of Athens so Maria could walk to school and Andreas could walk to the bus to go to work. Konstantino, the former farmer, worked in a paper factory, and Kyrasto his wife, stayed home to care for her working family.

Anna, Leo and baby Mary, remained in Martino, living in a home Leo built for his small family. Together they worked both their lands and those left by the Konstantino. Once a month, a family member from the city would make the trip on the public bus to the village and pick up the food for the rest of the family in Athens. This usually included, fresh yogurt and goat cheese, olives and olive oil from the acres of olive groves, wine from the vineyards, homemade noodles from their wheat fields, a side of lamb on special occasions and melons, grapes and figs, grown in the summer.

Although the family pooled their income there was barley enough money to survive the high cost of living in the big, noisy city of Athens. There was not enough money for items like a refrigerator or a table and chairs so Andreas added an evening job to supplement his meager salary. Andreas was energetic and wanted to provide his family with the material goods necessary to have a descent quality of life in the city. On the strength of his added income, he got store credit to furnish their apartment with a refrigerator, a stove, a table and six chairs and two double beds. His family adored him.

His second job was at the Ministry of Finance, as a tax collector in the movie houses throughout Athens. Andreas brought the American girls to some Greek films. The Greek families loved the low cost Greek comedies or Italian Spaghetti Westerns. Andreas, Maria, Ellie and Jimmy went to some poorer residential areas of Athens where home-front movie theatres were established. Maria was surprised to discover that Greeks had a growing film industry in the nineteen seventies. A homeowner with a large backyard could become an entrepreneur by renting a 16mm projector and making a contract to rent movies from a distributor. He would then turn his yard into a movie theatre in the evenings. Once the government got wind of the ‘mom and pop’ run operations, they wanted their cut. Part time government clerks, like Andreas, were dispatched to the neighborhood theatres in the evenings to count the number of people who attended the nightly movies and collect the appropriate tax. By law, the owner of the theatre was levied a tax per head, based on attendance. Andreas saw this part-time evening job as an opportunity to see movies for free while supplementing his income.

Civil service jobs in Greece were seen as a way of making friends and helping the family. Family and friends got into the movies free of charge and in return a civil servant would often conveniently miscounted that evening’s intake. Andreas became a true Greek civil servant and was confident that by doing favors to others in this position in the government bureaucracy he would gain status among his peers.

Andreas was eventually assigned to collect the customer tax in a professional, high-end English language movie theatre in the heart of Athens. He would have never afforded to go to such a movie house where first class American and English language movies where shown. He spent almost every night at the movies, watching English and American actors portraying characters who were larger than life, living lives filled with adventures and material possessions. The exposure to these cultures, via the movie screen, developed in him a longing to improve himself. He looked forward to a future where he could experience the world as he saw it through the eyes of screen characters like James Bond, his role model on how to charm women, or Clint Eastwood who became his paradigm of being cool or acting tough. He became fascinated with Americans, both those who acted on screen and those who frequented the upscale movie theatre. This experience provided him with a typecast image of the ideal life. He told Maria that he grew to love everything American and convinced his supervisor at work that the government should pay for him to take English language classes at a private night school, to enhance his jobs. Soon he began to gravitate to places where he could interact with American tourist and practice his new language skills.

Maria had only been in Greece one day when she met the civil servant on the beach. When Maria had taken the ferry ride across the Adriatic Sea to Greece, she never dreamed of the adventures that awaited her. Ellie and Maria arrived in Piraeus about mid-night and hailed a taxi to Athens early Sunday morning. Their plan was to stay in Greece for nine nights, return to Paris on August fifteenth to attend mass at Notre Dame Cathedral and then catch their scheduled return flight from Paris to New York City on August 16. They were their own travel agents, planning every bit of their tour of Europe the previous spring by using the library to research the important tourist sites. Their travel bible for hotels and restaurants was the book, Europe on Five Dollars a Day by Eric Frommer.

They had been so frugal throughout the trip that they found themselves with cash when they arrived in Greece on August 6, 1967. Deciding to treat themselves to a decent hotel, they asked the cab driver to take them to the four-star Hotel Ilissia. Instead he took them to the star-less Elite Hotel, a hot, cramped place on Syntagma Square. They were too tired to argue, so they stayed the night, thinking they would register at an upscale hotel the next day. In spite of the facts that the room was small and cramped, they had to share a bath down the hall and they had to endure the oppressive heat without air-conditionings, they managed to get some sleep. They arose early, got dressed and decided to find a Catholic Church so they could attend Sunday mass. After attendance at mass, they planned to find Asteria beach and go for a swim. They were filled with expectations at the thought of finally swimming in the Mediterranean Sea. The trip had been grueling. A week before arriving in Athens they