Our Big Fat Greek Baptism #2

 

All photographs by Erika Sidor

 

 Back when I was a child and attended a Presbyterian church, baptizing a baby was no big deal.  The parents and baby came down to the front for a few minutes after the Sunday service, the minister sprinkled some water on the baby’s head and said a few words, and it was over.  I don’t even remember that I had a godparent, although I must have.

When I married a Greek in 1970, I quickly learned that in the Greek church, baptisms are a really big deal, involving ritual, dancing and a fancy sit-down meal after the elaborate church service.  When Nick and I baptized our three children, the godparents presented their godchild with a new set of clothing and a gold cross.  And every time, my father-in-law, Christos, led the dancing while balancing a glass of Coca Cola on his head.  (And he never spilled a drop!) Here he is at the baptism of daughter Eleni in 1975.  She was only 11 months old, but after watching her Papou, she started dancing Greek-style, holding her little hands in the air.

Last November, on the Sunday after Thanksgiving, when daughter Eleni and her husband Emilio threw a baptism party for their second child, Nicolas José, no one danced with a glass on their head, but everyone had a rollicking good time, even nine-month-old Nicolas, once he got over being submerged three times in the baptismal font.

Here’s the family ready to leave for Saint Spyridon Cathedal in Worcester.  Nicolas is wearing the antique christening gown that his abuela, Carmen, brought from Nicaragua.  It’s been worn by babies of the Oyanguren family for over 100 years. Mommy and Amalia are dressed in accordance with the color palette Eleni chose for the baptism: dark blue, light blue and silver.  (Eleni works for Martha Stewart, so there’s a color palette for every party.)

Nicolas is always ready for a party!  Here he is waving at his about-to-be godmother Amy Ambatielos Pappas and her husband--another Nick.

Once he was carried to the baptismal font and Father Dimitrios Moraitis blessed the  water, Nico looked a little worried.  On the right is Nico’s godfather, Gerardo Baltodano Cantero, the brother of Emilio’s father Alvaro.  “Tio Gerardo” came from Nicaragua for the baptism along with his wife, Maria Caridad.

When Father Dimitri immersed Nico three times in the water the baby protested loud and long.

By the time his godparents had dried him off and dressed him in his new clothes, Nico had calmed down a bit, but still wasn’t happy.  Here his Godmother Amy leads a procession around the baptismal font to symbolize his new life as an Orthodox Christian, while his godfather Gerardo carries him.  

By the time everyone arrived at the Cyprian Keyes Golf Club, Nico was ready to party.  Eleni decorated the tables with the theme of Saint Nicolas, baby Nico’s patron saint, who is the protector of sailors.  The centerpiece on each table was a sailboat topped with two tiny flags—for Greece and Nicaragua.  The adult favors were small icons showing Saint Nicholas rescuing sailors from a storm, tied around the traditional bag of Jordan almonds. The children’s favors were sailboat cookies (and each child took home a sailboat.)

Here are Amalia and her Yiayia Joanie examining one of the sailboats.

Before the meal began, Eleni, Emilio and even Amalia welcomed everyone.  Once Amalia saw the power of a microphone, she didn’t want to give it back.

Nico’s Papou, Nick Gage, gave a beautiful blessing, saying in part, ”I want to wish him a long life full of the love, joy and wonder he is feeling today, I want to express the hope that all of us will be around to dance at his wedding…But if I don’t make it, I hope that those of you who do will tell him how deliriously happy I was today that he was given my name to carry on throughout this century…And finally I want to wish Nicolaki a blessing we say in my village: ‘May he live as long as the mountains’.”

Later it was time for photos.  Here is Nikolaki flanked by his godparents. Nick and Amy are holding their son Alki, who is looking forward to a sibling coming this year.

And here Nico is with his grandparents.  That’s Abuela Carmen Oyanguren on the right.

Then the dancing began.  Here’s Amalia leading Papou on the dance floor.

Now she’s in a line of dancers that includes her great-aunt Alexandra Stratis, her cousin Anthi Vraka, and her Mommy.

Even Nico’s non-Greek relatives from his Grandma’s side—namely Great Aunt Robin and Great Uncle Bob Paulson, cut a mean rug during the Greek dancing.  (But then Robin’s a professional dancer.)  At the far right is Amy’s Mom, Vicky Ambatielos, dancing with her grandson Alki.

Finally, Papou Nick asked little Nico if he would like to learn Greek dancing.  Nico said yes.

So, although the baby’s Papou Nick did not balance a glass of Coca Cola on his head, as his great-grandpa Christos used to do, Nico’s Papou gave him his first lesson in the kalamatianos, and that was even better.

Amalía Fashionista Wraps up Summer

 Amalia wears a maxi dress in a tropical print while informing her staff that it's time for her afternoon snack.

For Suri Cruise, fashion guru of the pre-school set, it’s been a pretty crumby summer, what with her parents splitting up and then her Mom, Katie Holmes, refusing to buy her that puppy that she fell  in love with.  So she threw a tantrum. In public. 

 Between avoiding the paparazzi  and worrying about being kidnapped by Scientologists, Suri  was forced to hide out with her Mom in their new Manhattan digs and didn’t provide much fodder for the blogs devoted to her fashion choices.

For our granddaughter Amalia, however, 11-month-old fashion guru of the pre-potty-trained set, it was a summer of jetting about, from Manhattan to San Francisco to Nicaragua to Miami to Worcester, MA, where she celebrated her baptism on July 8, surrounded by 131 close friends and relatives.

This peripatetic summer called for swift, cutting-edge fashion decisions and packing skills and  challenged Amalía’s innate gift for accessorizing.  Here’s what the country’s youngest fashionista was seen wearing in the Summer of  2012:

The bathing suit is, of course, the most important summer fashion decision, and Amalía rocked these three.  The one-shouldered black suit embellished with a large camellia may make you think "Chanel", but in fact it's from Baby Gap.

They were perfect for Amalia's first dip in the ocean, in the water park, and in Papou's pool, where she floated in her very own turtle boat.

She chose an embroidered dress from Nicaragua for Father's Day brunch with Papi, and a patriotic frock for the Fourth of July party in Massachusetts, where she happily ripped a flag-printed paper napkin to shreds.

On the day before her baptism, in the company of Abuela Carmen Oyanguren, Amalía wore a nautical number while surveying all the goodies ready for the party, including Greek sweets, a large candle for the ceremony and a basket holding her new after-baptism outfit brought from Corfu by her godmother Areti Vraka.

She danced at her baptism party wearing the new dress, then added its jacket for taking communion in Miami on the second Sunday after the christening. (It's expected for the baby to take communion for the three Sundays following the baptism.  On the first Sunday Amalía was in Managua, Nicaragua, and on the second and third in Miami Beach.) The outfit worked equally well for driving around the supermarket on the way home.

Romper, skort, shorts and a sun dress were her choices for climbing a wall, strolling in the park, browsing through cookbooks and indulging in a frozen hot chocolate at Serendipity.

Here's what she wore for catching butterflies and balloons, hanging out in Central Park with Mommy, and dashing off to Lincoln Road for some serious shopping.  Notice the eclectic accessorizing of the elephant-embellished romper with the turquoise handbag and the lime hair bow. 

Daring fashion choices for sightseeing, blowing bubbles, phoning Grandma on speed dial and programming the I-Pad.

Like Queen Elizabeth, Amalía has mastered the royal wave to acknowledge her fans and the paparazzi.  She can even do it while reading a book upside down.

But life is not unbroken parties, parks and fun in Amalía's world.  Sometimes she has a bad hair day, which enrages her until she rips out her barrette and throws it on the street.  And some mornings, especially on weekends, her parents like to lounge in bed instead of taking her  for a walk, which causes her to climb into their bed and say, "I'm bored.  There's nothing to do around here."

Amalia’s Big Fat Greek Baptism

 When I was growing up a Presbyterian in Minnesota, I thought that the ceremony of baptism consisted of a short period after church when the minister said a few words over the baby and splashed some water on its head.

That was long before I met a Greek-American, married him, and produced three children who all enjoyed a real Greek baptism with a cast of thousands and a long  church service which included the priest completely submerging the baby three times in the baptismal fount, and also cutting three locks of hair and anointing the child with holy oil among other colorful rituals. 

It was a learning experience.  At each of the first two baptisms—both held in St. Spyridon church in Worcester, MA., I wore a floor-length gown (as did the guests) and sat in the  front pew to help with the undressing and re-dressing of the screaming child. (The third baptism took place in Greece and was slightly more low-key, but a caterer and a tent were involved.)

Inevitably, in the church,  I would worry, like every Greek mother, that  someone would drop the screaming, slippery baby.  (In the olden days, in Greek villages, the mother didn’t even get to go to the baptism.  The godparent would bring the child to her afterward at home and inform her what its name was.)

In each baptism in St. Spyridon, as soon as I unconsciously and nervously crossed my legs, my aged father-in-law would stand up, stalk across the front of the church and scold me: “Never cross your legs in church.”  Not that I was showing as much as an inch of ankle, mind you. I would uncross, then forget and do it again.

 Proud father Nick Gage at left and godfather Steve Economou at right, dance at Eleni's baptism 36 years ago.

The baptisms of our babies were followed by a major party, major cake, lots of Greek food and wine and a live orchestra including the all-important clarinet player whose skills inspired the dancers into athletic feats that including writhing on the floor while appreciative on-lookers threw money. 

My father-in-law would lead the Greek line dances while balancing a glass of Coca Cola on his head.  He never dropped it.

 Well, the baptism last Sunday of our first grandchild, ten-month-old Amalía, at the same St. Spyridon Cathedral where her mother was baptized 36 years ago, was less over-the-top, but it was a total delight to the 131 guests, from small children to aged great aunts, some of whom threw aside canes and disabilities to demonstrate their dancing skills.

 Proud grandfather Nick Gage, now with a white beard, still is a Greek dancing star.

Amalía’s godmother Areti Vraka, came from Corfu, Greece and her godfather, José Oyanguren, came from Managua, Nicaragua.  They had both  served as attendants when Amalia’s parents  were married in Corfu two years earlier, on 10/10/10.

Areti at left dresses Amalia.  Jose at right reads from St. Paul at the baptism.

 Baby Amalía entered the church wearing an antique lace christening gown brought by her Nicaragua grandmother,  Abuela Carmen Oyanguren. It was originally made for Carmen’s father in Bruges, Belgium some 115 years ago.

 It was the inspiration of Amalía’s mommy, our daughter Eleni, to design an invitation featuring the baby dressed in the traditional “Amalia” costume which Greek girls put on for festive and patriotic occasions.  As Eleni explained in the invitation:  “Amalía is…the name of the first queen of modern Greece. ..the name of the traditional Greek costume shown here… the name of the Queen of our hearts.”

 The colors of the Amalia costume—pale blue and deep red—became the color scheme for the baptism and the flower arrangements on the tables. Amalia’s photo from the invitation was reproduced on the 24 cupcakes surrounding the baptism cake, which resembled the white lace christening gown.

The same colors were echoed in the ribbons on the religious “witness pins” worn by everyone who attended the church, and in the blue Murano glass crosses attached to the traditional “boubounieres” –the candy-almond-filled favors on the tables. On every table was an "Amalía doll"--Every child got one.

Last Sunday the dresses were no longer floor-length gowns and the live orchestra was replaced by a DJ, but he pulled out old favorite Greek songs and dances as well as Spanish-language  standards for the Nicaraguan contingent.  Amalia’s Daddy,  Emilio, danced first with his daughter and then with his wife.

 And before the party was over, ten-month-old Amalia, no doubt on a sugar high caused by my feeding her an entire cupcake, managed to dance to the Greek music on her own two feet, just as her mother had danced at her own baptism 36 years before.

(For a moving and insightful explanation of the meaning of the baptism rituals, check out the  post of Amalía’s mommy, author Eleni Baltodano Gage, on her blog "The Liminal Stage":  “The Circle Dance: The Sacred and the Mundane.”)