Greek Festival

On Saturday the 19th, Mike and I went to Pueblo to attend the Greek Festival hosted by St. John the Baptist Greek Orthodox Church. The first thing that caught my attention was the sign outside the church with the words, "In memory of our immigrant parents." This church is nestled in an old Pueblo neighborhood. One of the festival workers informed me that most of the membership consists of descendants of immigrants who worked in the nearby steel mill in the early 1900s. I found it quite satisfying to find this small ethnic enclave had managed to preserve their culture after three and four generations.

We began our festival experience with a tour of the church. I was very interested in this part of our day because our Syrian ancestors were Greek Orthodox. Why not Syrian Orthodox, I have often wondered. I learned that all of the Orthodox religions are exactly the same. The only difference must be in the language spoken in their liturgies. This leads me to believe our Syrian ancestors spoke not only Arabic, but also Greek. I've known for some time now that there were other Greek influences in their lives. I'm thinking the ancestors of our Syrian people were Greek.

I was pleased with what I learned about the Greek Orthodox doctrine. I found I could agree with it and I felt very close to my Syrian ancestors as I stood inside the church surrounded by candles and saints and the color red. I'm so glad they remained true to Christianity in spite of the religious persecution they endured.

There were many fun wares on display imported from Greece. I bought myself a bracelet and Mike came home with a jar of olives and a can of stuffed grape leaves.

We then ordered ourselves gyros and baklava and sat down to eat while listening to recorded Greek folk music in the background. I looked around at the people and was soon able to pick out all the ones who were Greek just by the way they looked. Shortly, a group of teenagers from a Denver dance school, dressed in various colorful Greek folk costume, entertained us with some dances. There was not a blonde in the group. I thought how my own girls would not have looked out of place on that stage.

I must learn to make tzatziki sauce. It was a great cultural experience, and Mike even said he would like to go again next year. I hope to bring my girls with me.