By Kathy Karageorgiou
Maria, Arthur and I grew up together in a working-class, inner-city suburb of Melbourne. This was in the late 1970s and early 1980s when our parents bought their respective houses there and become neighbours, while Maria and I met in primary school.
Our neighbourhood was a predominantly Greek one, with Greek Australian kids roughly the same age as Maria and I. There was Arthur, his brother Jim and younger sister Helen. There was Maria’s older brother Evan. There was John, Spiro and Fani. There was Steve, and the brothers Jim and George.
We’d ride our bikes on the street, play tennis on the road. Glorious memories, until us girls turned 14 or so; when adolescence hit. Our parents “went funny” and turned strict, feeling that we were transgressing their good, Greek daughter norms. A familiar story for many of us second generation Greek Australian girls trying to forge an identity, caught between two worlds, the Anglo and the Greek
At high school in the early 1980s, Maria and I had different friends but spent time together after school. Both our parents were strict to us girls. I’d go to Maria’s house and smoke before her parents arrived home from work. Maria would borrow my high heel, ‘school’ shoes – ‘slickers’ that were in fashion back then – because her parents wouldn’t allow her to own or wear them. Neither did my parents, but I was on a rebellious path, even piercing one of my ears myself, four times.
At the time of my hard core ‘unruliness,’ I’d stopped hanging out with Maria, seeking other ‘rebels,’ mostly Aussie kids with more ‘freedom.’ That was the time I heard on the Greekvine (aka grapevine), that Maria was in a relationship with our neighbour and childhood friend Arthur – and that her parents weren’t happy.
Different stories and rumours abounded, and just before my parents sent me to Greece aged 16 (as a ‘reform’ measure), I was figuratively left with the impression that Maria and Arthur had eloped. Good for them, I thought, chuckling in glee in my rebelliousness against ‘the parents.’
So, my ‘new’ life began in Greece, and Maria and my childhood and early-teen neighbourhood ‘gang’, lost touch. Now, older – and wiser (I hope) – I decided to seek out Maria via Facebook and we became online friends, liking each other’s posts when they appeared.
I’d been thinking of her with love and fondness for a long time, so I asked her if she was interested in speaking to me, now a writer for The Greek Herald, about her ‘love story’ with Arthur – against all odds, I thought. But reality was different and I won’t give a spoiler yet!
That’s the problem with rumours and hearsay – things get mixed up and the truth, or real story, suffers. Maria kindly agreed for me to write the article about her love story, and soon set things straight.
Speaking to her via video call, I could at last see her again, her lovely face, her beautiful skin which truly hasn’t aged, and her gorgeous blue eyes. A Cretan girl. I also thought that the fuss with both Maria’s parents was odd, because their surnames were similar as well as ending in -akis (usually signifying Cretans), so I assumed, it must’ve been something like a Cretan vendetta!
“No. It wasn’t like that at all”, Maria clarifies, adding, “Arthur’s Dad is from Florina; it was his grandfather that was from Crete way back.”
“And did you elope after all?” I asked Maria excitedly. “Er, no. We got engaged and our parents were thrilled. And we got married a year later in 1987 with 500 guests at our wedding. It was great!”
Confused but glad for my friend (really; as I’m older and wiser now), I ask… “What was all the fuss about back in the neighbourhood? Please, let it rip.”
Maria’s reply shocked me. She said: “I still feel guilty about what I did to my parents.”
My gut reaction was to shout “what are you talking about?!” but I stayed quiet, professional – as the interviewer.
“Well, Arthur and I began having romantic feelings towards each other when I was in Year 11 towards Year 12. Something sparked! And we began sneaking around because my parents were strict. They wanted me to finish Year 12 without ‘distractions’, as they had planned for us to return to Greece permanently. My brother was already there finishing the army, and so… when I finished Year 12, they, well, sold the house, got our tickets, and… thought I too was going,” Maria explains.
She seems to swallow, while looking down.
“So, you hadn’t told your parents about you and Arthur…” I exclaim, trying to appear calm. “Even when they were selling – and sold – their house?!”
Not wanting to add insult to injury, with my old defiance against our Greek parents surfacing, I then stayed silent, allowing Maria to continue.
“I was too scared. I wouldn’t let Arthur tell them either – that we were serious, even though his parents didn’t want me to go and said they’d talk to my parents – but I said no… so… that’s how it turned out. And I’ll always live with the guilt. My father passed away five-and-a-half years ago…” she says.
I respond that she’s certainly made up for her ill feeling of guilt because she gave her parents a wonderful son-in-law in Arthur.
Maria continued, “my parents obviously didn’t go and live in Greece back then without me. Instead, they bought a house in a suburb a bit further out from where we initially lived, and Arthur came to live with us. My dad and he were mates, and my dad certainly enjoyed our kids – his grandchildren.”
There you go, I tell her, your Dad was a very lucky man. Love conquers all.
Maria and Arthur are still happily married with three adult children and three grandchildren. They’ve visited Greece several times, and Europe – all trips with family. Maria’s mum, who I remember – the lovely Thia Zaharoula who made the best kalitsounia in the world (better than those in Crete) – took her oldest grand-daughter for a trip back in 2005, and then Maria went to join them. More trips to Greece, particularly to Crete, ensued.
“Arthur was never really keen on visiting Greece,” Maria says, “but now he loves it, especially with our grandkids being with us on these holidays. I think he enjoys it even more than I do.”
Arthur and Maria have worked hard since finishing high school. Maria worked for a major bank, while Arthur for a menswear chain store. On the side, they also had a picture framing business. Maria even completed a beautician course part-time, “my passion” she tells me.
Later on, an opportunity arose for Maria to work as a beautician twice a week, outside of her bank job’s hours at an upmarket salon in a wealthy part of town. To cut a long story short, Maria ended up owning and running that salon for 20 years. Arthur has been in real-estate now for many years himself with his own business.
“My parents would babysit, and they did all of our food shopping for 20 years. That’s what my Dad was like, even shouting us holidays. The help was endless until the very end, before my father’s passing.”
Maria, who was born in Crete and came with her parents and brother to Australia when she was three, says longingly, “I love Greece, Crete, the fresh food, the simplicity of the village.”
“Australia has changed post-COVID; people became germaphobic and even now, keep more to themselves. There’s a high level of protectionism. The spirit of being carefree has gone. I would trade it all for the quiet life of Crete. I’d love for us to retire, or spend six months of the year there,” she adds.
“Well do it then!” I tell Maria, to which she responds, “I’m a grandmother now, and family still comes first.”
“I dedicate this article to my parents for sacrificing their dreams to allow me to have my happy ever after life. It was the only time I went against my parents,” she concludes.
May the happiness continue for you and your family always, my dear friend.
