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Home || Ministries & Organizations || Our History || Calendar || Contact Us || Donations Fr. Anthony Bio [Home] || <--Go to Chapter 2 || -->Go to Chapter 4
Autobiography of Father Anthony Kosturos
In the previous issue of the bulletin I ended the second chapter of this biography by relating my being in charge of publicizing the "King of Kings" movie by Cecil B. DeMille. The choir wanted the parishioners to see this wonderful movie during Holy Week, and I plastered movie scene posters on the walls of the stairs of the Annunciation Church leading up to the narthex. I mentioned that Father Lokis became enraged at the posting of the posters, asked who had done this, and when I admitted doing this he reprimanded me, and then added, "And you want to become a priest." Well, those words cut me deeply. I was only about 13 or 14 years old and could not understand what I had done which was so wrong. The choir members consoled me and assured me that Father Lokis was not angry at me. He was just exasperated that the choir itself would allow this to happen. Eventually, I came to realize that Father Lokis had not wanted to hurt me. He was very fond of me. His words at the time, however, devastated me. I was and am very sensitive about my priesthood. We went on to sing during Holy Week, and I found solace in singing the hymns which relate to our Lord's Crucifixion and Resurrection. Afternoons In my early teens our Ramona Avenue street was our playground. My brothers and I and neighbors played baseball by using our fist as the bat and a tennis ball bounced to us as the baseball. The bases were cars on the street or spots we set down with a shirt or some cloth. We also played "kick the can," "hide and seek," "penny toss" and "handball" on a brick wall, and "touch football." Once in a while we would use a tennis ball for baseball and a real bat. A few windows were broken by accident. We also played catch with a hard ball. One would take the part of the pitcher and throw as hard as possible or try to curve the ball with a bend of the wrist, and the catcher would use a catcher's mitt and dare catch the ball. Often, the palm of the hand turned red when the pitcher threw the ball very fast, and swelled. Also we used poles which held street lights. We played catching someone before he touched the pole, or played "freeze" until the last person prevailed in not moving after hearing "freeze." Greek Classes Attending Greek classes to learn how to write, read, and speak better was a must. Some afternoons during the week were devoted to this pursuit. After Father Spyropoulos, my main Greek school teacher was Mr. Christos Makrygianis, a gentle soul who found it difficult to control disruptive students, but enjoyed those who really wanted to learn. I must admit that I was very diligent in learning Greek. It was a joy. The Greek taught was very basic. Reading, writing, and just some grammar. It might be of interest to you to note that Mr. Makrygianis translated Charles Dickens' "Christmas Carol" into Greek. I played Tiny Tim. Imagine, performing the entire story of Dickens in Greek on the state of the church auditorium. I was involved other times in Greek plays with young people and adults of the parish. Some of our Greek plays, which often lasted more than an hour, and required determined application to memorizing the lines, were comedies and dramas which often evinced real emotional reaction from the spectators. Of course, Greek dancing was part of our Greek education too. My mother taught my brothers and me all the basic Greek dances, and on March 25, when Greeks celebrate Greek Independence Day, she would coax us into wearing the "foustanella," the Greek military skirt of the Evzones. She had to coax us because the leggings were wool and itched. Then we would find ourselves dancing at the Independence Celebration at Eagles Hall or Civic Auditorium. Those were the days when at least 5000 people would attend the Celebration. During the long speeches by the orators of the day, which had a dramatic flair to them, with expressions and gestures which displayed so much pathos that they bordered on the comical, we would sit or stand and just wait perseveringly for the speeches to end. What a relief when they did. Then communal dancing would begin. Picture hundreds and hundreds of young and old dancing with gusto on the floor of Civic Auditorium. It was an unforgettable sight. At other times, my brothers and I would entertain the parishioners with music. George played the accordion, John the guitar, and I the violin. Let's just say we did our best but, admittedly, we were pure amateurs, and I imagine that many in the audience in the church auditorium appreciated our effort yet looked forward to ending our performance. Also, the choir once performed Handel's Hallelujah Chorus, and my violin teacher urged me and convinced me to take the tenor solos. My voice was changing at the time. Some of those high notes brought me to the brink of frustration. In its totality, all the activity revolving around Greek culture was invigorating. Let us remember that, at that time, Greek neighborhoods and Greek socializing among relatives and friends were the main source of entertainment for us. Speaking Greek to our parents was a foregone conclusion. Even though my parents learned English and became naturalized citizens of the United States, we found it very natural to speak to our parents in Greek through all the years we enjoyed them with us before they departed for the other world. I still recall my mother's studying to become a citizen. She had to memorize answers to questions from a booklet given her. Just before she took the test, she awakened my father one midnight. He was fast asleep. He rose every day at 5 a.m. to go to the market for grocery produce. She said, "Niko, please excuse me, but I need the answer to this question. Who was the first president of the United States?" My father answered her question patiently after reminding her what time it was. "Well, she said, "I must pass the test tomorrow." And she passed. She was so proud. It had not been easy for her to learn English, but over time she became quite conversant in the language. She had a great personality. Fr. Anthony Bio [Home] || <--Go to Chapter 2 || -->Go to Chapter 4 |