|
|
Home || Ministries & Organizations || Our History || Calendar || Contact Us || Donations Fr. Anthony Bio [Home] || <--Go to Chapter 5 || --><--Go to Chapter 7
Autobiography of Father Anthony Kosturos
The Train Ride The train began to move away from the area where my parents, brothers, and some relatives had gathered to bid me farewell on my journey to the Seminary in Pomfret, Connecticut. I didn't look back because the strangeness of being alone, away from my parents for the first time in my life, produced a knot in my stomach. Soon the train was speeding at a good pace, from State to State, across the middle of the United States. The clickety-clak tempo of its movement took on a rhythm of its own. As night fell, and I huddled in my lower bunk, I tried to sleep. I was too anxious at first to sleep well. I slept for a while, then woke up. This was the pattern developed as I look out the window and saw vast stretches of uninhabited land. It reminded me of movies where you see a vast expanse of sand, hills, and mountains. I tried to overcome the nostalgia of home by thinking of my destination. After a few days, we reached Chicago. I had to board another train for Boston. All through the trip the porters were congenial. The meals in the dining car were adequate, even though you had to sway a bit with the tables as you ate, since the train rocked a bit as it moved. The vast expanse of our Country had evoked in me a deep appreciation of God's creative plan. You felt so small before the long stretches of land which whizzed by as the train moved on. Once in a whi9le it stopped for others to board the train, and you came to appreciate how many towns, large and small, dot the landscape of America. Father Coucouzis Father Lokis had given me a letter of introduction to Father James Coucouzis, the Dean of the Boston Cathedral. I took a taxi to the church. I asked to see Father James (Iakovos). When I entered his office, I introduced myself, handed him the letter for him from Father Lokis and waited for his answer. He welcomed me, and made sure I boarded a train for Pomfret, Connecticut. He had called ahead and informed the Seminary secretary I was on my way. When I reached my destination, a Seminarian greeted me, helped me put by baggage in a large car, and drove me to the Seminary site. On the way, he gave me words of encouragement, asked from where I had come, and was surprised that I had traveled by myself all the way from San Francisco. The auto in which I was riding stopped in front of the entrance to the building which housed the Seminarians. Very few were around because they had gone home for the summer and had not returned yet for the Fall Season. Bishop Athenagoras Cavadas I entered the offices of Bishop Cavadas. He was now Bishop of the New England States and the Dean of the Seminary. He had been the priest of the Holy Trinity in San Francisco in the early to middle twenties, and my mother had informed me that he had baptized me. It is so moving to see your baptism in the parish records as the present priest of the parish. My parents knew him well. I was told in my teen years that my uncle, Peter Anagnostopoulos, who was married to my mother's sister, had taken it on himself to find mother a suitable mate. In those days "match marriages" were prevalent. He came up with the idea of mentioning this to Father Cavadas, and asked if he would go by the grocery store owned by my father and my uncle Bill, and size up which one Father Cavadas considered more suitable for my mother's personality. Well, Father Cavadas did visit the store, ostensibly to shop for some groceries. His real intent was to evaluate the personality of each brother. He shopped and left. He then talked with "Thio Panagioti" and told him: "The taller one, Bill, is better looking, but I believe the shorter one is more suited for Eleni." Well, that's all Uncle Panagioti needed to know. With Mrs. Gerogianis serving as the matchmaker, the die was cast. Father Cavadas' opinion was as good as gold. That's how much respect my family had for him. In His Presence I was already in awe of the Bishop before I had met him. After all, he was the priest who had baptized me, he had something to do with my mother's marrying my father, and he had a reputation for being a person of singular integrity. Now, he came from his office to greet me. "Antoni, my son, how are you?" he said. I kissed his hand respectfully and replied: "Your Grace, I am fine, thank you." "How are your mother and your father?" he asked. "They are well, your Grace." I answered. I had pictured Father Cavadas as being tall and dark. He was of medium height, sported a short and well-groomed beard, had feathered gray hair, wore a purple cassock, possessed observant eyes, small teeth, and a winning smile. I must admit I was very nervous. I was in the presence of a Bishop about whose priesthood I had heard so many complimentary things. One of them was imbedded in my mind. "Father Cavadas is as straight as an arrow. He is not a flatterer or diplomat." After a few more minutes in the presence of the Bishop, I was shown to my room, and I was assigned to a specific dormitory and given a specific bed. I placed my luggage under the bed, and descended to the chapel area. Vespers were being conducted. I heard Seminarians chanting for the first time. I was in awe. Fr. Anthony Bio [Home] || <--Go to Chapter 5 || --><--Go to Chapter 7 |