GB

So today was the little Greek gathering. There ended up being about 30 of us. It was loud, and funny, and a heck of a good time. My aunt Aphrodite gave a speech about how all of her bridesmaids' daughters turned out to be doctors, because no one ever told us we couldn't do it, so we did it!

I laughed, because, well, plenty of people have told us (or at least me) we couldn't do it. Or shouldn't, as it were.

Our generation has finally stopped caring, is all.

I love being Greek, even when I don't like it so much. We're loud and outspoken and emotive and all about family and our people invented art and democracy and all other things that are good (don't believe me? Ask any Greek you know. Go on, ask them). We're critical and passive-aggressive and we may even do a better job of guilt than the Jews, but we're there when you need us (and we'll bring food). We're pushy and full of life and we assimilate everyone we can and we're out to feed the world. Opa!!

(I'm thinking of offering a class for Greeks entitled, "What needs to not be unsaid" (yes, that's deliberately convoluted). Lessons will include things like "You're welcome to take credit for my success if you want, the line forms over there," "No, really, I'm not actually a kid anymore (although you're welcome to continue to think of me as 'Little Katy')" and "It's really okay to say 'I'm proud of you' instead of 'don't let us down.'" The advanced class, which I'm thinking of calling "What we can learn from the white people," will have offerings such as "Catastrophizing: when it's okay to not make everything into a crisis," "Toning down the histrionics," and "You really don't have to bring up everything I've ever done wrong because I apparently took a 'tone' with you.")

It was a wonderful time. We ate and caught up and laughed and told stories. We stayed until they started breaking down our tables. And I got presents, which, bonus.

It's been a good week at home.