Preservation of American Hellenic History
Preservation of American Hellenic History
by Jason C. Mavrovitis
When I was a little boy between the ages of three and six, Mom often took my sister Nitsa and me with her to shop in midtown Manhattan. On wet, cold, wintry days she wore a fur coat. Often, it became a little wet as we rushed from store to store. Coming home on the subway I would nestle close to her and drift in and out of sleep as the train thump-thumped on the tracks and the doors open and closed at the stations along the way. I was like a little animal burrowing into its mother's fur for warmth and security.
I remember still the faint, comforting smell of Mama at those times - the lightest, almost undetectable scent her coat gave off when it was damp and warmed by the body it enveloped. It was a coat made of skunk fur.
Dad had his signature scent, that of a cologne named Suivez-Moi (follow-me), the meaning of which I learned in my high school French class. I think that he bought it at Macy's. It was one of those nice affectations that he acquired as part of his transformation from barefoot village boy to New York City gentleman.
I can still summon the scent that attached to the stock of Dad's shotgun and rifle, drifted from his armoire, filled the bathroom after he left it, and left tell-tale identification on his wallet and ties, checkbook, coat collar, muffler, hat, and any other personal item that came in contact with his hands or face.
It was a proud day when I first shaved and followed the routine I had learned by watching Dad. I washed my face well, applied the shaving cream, shaved with my new Gillette razor (later, for a time copying my Papou, I tried a shaving mug and straight razor), rinsed my face, applied witch hazel, followed it with a splash of Suivez-Moi, and dusted my face lightly with a fine face talcum. I was a man like my Dad.
We called the basement of our home, "the cellar." It was both: basement or the lowest story of the house, and cellar for it served as a storeroom for provisions, especially, according to The Oxford English Dictionary, for wine. It was much larger and far more comfortable than the first floor storage rooms found in the Balkans and did not shelter family livestock in cold weather. We were therefore happily not subject to the animal odors that in winter rose through the cracks in the rough plank floors of Balkan village homes.
Until 1936, a coal-fired furnace that provided hot water heat in the winter glowed red in the far corner. A small room was used to store coal. An oil-burning heating unit, a gas water heater, and a tank replaced the coal furnace in 1936, and the coal bin became a wine cellar. An oil fuel tank was buried under the front courtyard entrance to the house.
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