Loss of Tradition in Later-Generation Descendants of
Greek Immigrants

Anonymous

Interviewee: Anonymous

Date of the Interview: April 12, 2026

About the Interviewee: Fourth-generation Greek immigrant

Born: Upper Midwestern region of the United States

Third-generation mother, second-generation grandfather, and first-generation great-grandparents are all presently deceased

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As a native of a suburban area near New York City, I grew up surrounded by families whose relatives came to the country through Ellis Island. In many of these families, my own included, I have observed a disconnect between one’s American and foreign cultures, wherein the American experience is the most dominant in shaping identity. This pattern has thus been evident in many of the Greek American communities I’ve encountered throughout my life. My own family has roots in Greece, but I found that I also knew little about that side of my history, having an incomplete picture of that part of my identity. I conducted this interview to understand why there might be such a significant loss of tradition in later-generation descendants of immigrants by focusing on that of Greek Americans.

My interviewee is Emily [a pseudonym], a 46-year-old woman currently living on the East Coast. She is a professional, a mother and wife. Her maternal great-grandparents immigrated from a city south of Athens sometime in the early 20th century, bringing with them one of their daughters but leaving five other adult children behind. They had one last child after they settled in the Great Plains region: Emily’s grandfather, who would eventually move to major city at the western end of Lake Superior where Emily would later grow up. Her paternal side of the family is notably not Greek, but they are also descendants of immigrants.

Emily begins telling me what she knows about her family’s journey to America. Like so many immigrants of the time, her great-grandparents sought America for the enticement of economic prosperity. Her account of the story is enlightening, but it is underlined with uncertainty:

I don’t know why they left their children there, but they did. Maybe because they were older. When they immigrated here, they moved to the Great Plains region, and they had a farm. It would have probably been between 1915 and 1921. I don’t know for sure. They came here because of money, for a better way of life. My aunt has told me how her dad [Emily’s grandpa] would talk about his brothers calling and always asking for money. I think he was the youngest of seven. When my grandpa was three years old, they didn’t have money to take care of him, so my grandpa went into an orphanage.

When considering lapses in Emily’s understanding of her family history, one can first point to her direct connection with her Greek lineage. Her great-grandparents, grandfather, and mother are all presently deceased; she never met her great-grandparents, she was a young teenager when her grandpa died, and her mother died just over a year ago. Her understanding of her Greek identity throughout her life then depended mostly on her mother as an individual agent of authority, and in recent years, Emily has lost even that channel of connection. This leaves little room for directly asking questions about her heritage, and it also gives her a sense of insecurity in her own identity. Throughout the interview, she keeps reminding me how she is unsure about so much of her family history, embedded with apologies for not being a “Greek enough” Greek American. She knows more than she gives herself credit for, though, like how the American Dream fell short for her great-grandparents and that they couldn’t afford to take care of both of their children, leaving Emily’s grandfather isolated from his family at just three years old, alone in unfamiliar territory. She reflects further on her grandpa’s detached childhood and how it led to a life of violence:

He couldn’t speak a lick of English when he went into that orphanage. That’s why he learned to fight. They’d always make fun of him because he didn’t know how to communicate, so he would get in fights. When he was a teenager, he went back to his parents, and he found people stealing from them, so then he would fight them too. I never met [her great-grandparents]. I don’t even know if my mom met them. They were probably already gone by that time.

Emily’s family’s not knowing English upon their arrival to America presented challenges to their inclusion and assimilation, roadblocks which her grandpa was left to understand and overcome with few resources. Thus, space was made for desperation, leaving him to compensate with violence, setting a precedent of antagonism for him handling conflict in his life. When I ask Emily to tell me more about her grandpa’s history of violence, it is clear that fighting was a fundamental part of who he was.

My grandpa was a fighter, like a really good boxer. He was a marine. He got the silver star, or the silver heart—I can’t remember exactly—for bravery. He was a really good marine. I think he was drafted, but I’m not one-hundred-percent sure. I would think he enjoyed it. He won something for it. I can’t remember the wording, but he was the top in all of his class of Marines. He won a national title. But my mom completely disconnected herself from him. He was abusive. She wanted nothing to do with him or the Greek side of her life because of his abuse.

Again, without living relatives to confirm her family history, Emily’s story is unsettled with doubt. But what is abundantly clear to her is that violence was her grandfather’s crutch throughout his life, and he was good at it. Consequently, though, it carried over into other aspects of his life. I learn that he was physically abusive to all of his children, and it destabilized his family, fragmenting the trust and connection he had with his children, most relevantly, Emily’s mother. She dives deeper into how this affected her and her mother’s relationships with her grandpa:

I wasn’t super close with him. My mom removed us from his life for a long time. But at some point when we were younger, she decided that we should know him, even though his situation was what it was. So we started visiting him. And he was a part of my life, but I wouldn’t say super close. I would say out of my whole family, I actually liked my grandpa a lot, even with the bad stories. I was the youngest, and he always took care of me, and he was always nice to me. I never experienced that [bad] side of him. So I have a special pull to him, even though I don’t fully embrace it, because I feel bad for my mom. He didn’t get along with everyone. My dad says that he would’ve been a fun guy to hang out with if he didn’t have the mean, angry side.

Emily’s connection with her grandfather was complicated, underlaid with a tension between his care for her and the knowledge of the harm he caused her mother, which was notably not hidden from her even as a child. This early exposure to truth afforded her mother an acknowledged and undeniable control in overseeing her child’s relationship with her grandpa. Emily says she holds no resentment toward her mother’s choices, but she admits that it was her authority that at least partially prevented a deeper immersion into her Greek heritage.

Despite this complex family dynamic, Emily thought positively of her Greek lineage growing up. “I actually liked it,” she admits. “I thought that it was unique and special.” Hearing this, I want to get a clearer picture of just how present Greek culture was throughout her childhood. When I inquire about her early life, she reiterates that her mother had the most significant degree of authority over her family dynamic:

I knew about Orthodoxy because I always knew my mom was baptized Greek, but she didn’t want to have me grow up that way. She wanted to remove us from that. But I know it was very important in my grandfather’s life; that was very obvious. He was very connected to the Greek religion and the Greek community in [name of city]. I didn’t really think about it a lot, but I did know its importance in my grandpa's life. But he actually didn’t go to church very often. He would go on holidays, like how [Catholics] go to church on Christmas. And his mom’s mother was Catholic, and so was his wife, so [his mother and wife] never wanted to go [to the Greek church]. That’s why my mom never went, even though she was baptized. The only time I was ever in the Greek church was when my grandpa died. The only thing I remember—I was young, thirteen-ish—I remember the smell. They came out with this incense-burning thing. And they made me drink this nasty alcohol stuff. Ouzo, I think. I didn’t like it.

With both her mother’s hesitation and the church’s lack of institutional authority in her childhood, Emily was disconnected from Greek Orthodoxy and other imposing elements of the culture. Her mother associated the negative impact of her father’s abuse with the entirety of his identity, and she was also influenced by her own mother and grandmother’s Catholic identities, affording her the justification to not delve deeply into her Greek culture. With Greek Orthodoxy being so significant in shaping her grandpa’s sense of identity, it makes sense that Emily’s disconnection with it would consequently limit her Greek culture’s capacity to shape her own identity. But even without a deep immersion and a memorably less-than-positive experience at the church, Emily always appreciated her Greek heritage. She got joy out of the little bits of culture she was given, especially the occasional taste of Greek food.

Spanakopita and baklava—my aunts would make that at special occasions. That’s the only time I really had those. I never learned any recipes or anything. They never showed me, or I guess I also didn’t ask. And at home, like on a daily basis, the only Greek part my mom did embrace was feta cheese and Greek olives. We had that and then lamb, like gyros. But that’s about it. I liked everything that I tried growing up, which was pretty much very limited. But I really liked it.

With little exposure to Greek cuisine, another element of culture was left unexplored for Emily. I note that Emily mentions her family’s recipes, which she did not learn from them due to their not showing her and her own lack of request. She views this loss of tradition, then, as a result of a shortage of pursuit, a responsibility she affords to all ends of the transmission cycle, including herself. This again deepens my understanding of her insecurity about her incomplete Greek identity, a subconscious meditation on her own lack of effort. With her earlier description of her mother’s childhood trauma and aversion to her father’s identity, I am also intrigued to hear that her mother maintained part of her Greek heritage, even if it was small. Emily explains further:

My mom didn’t love the half of her that was Greek. But she didn’t hate it, I don’t think. Maybe. I don’t know. She liked talking about specific things, and I was always intrigued by that part. And, oh, alatopipero! Salt and pepper! My mom would always say that. I was curious about the Greek side and would try to ask questions, and she’s like, “The only thing I know is alatopipero.”

Once again, coupled with uncertainty, Emily reveals the tension that brewed in her mother, resulting in a fragmented embrace of identity. Her mother was unsure how much of her father’s life her children should experience, caught between the emotional and physical abuse she endured growing up and still wanting her kids to have a relationship with their grandpa. Ultimately, the trauma she endured resulted in the maintenance of tradition being less of a priority for her parenting. Yet the elements of Greek tradition that her mother did not abandon were clearly appreciated by Emily, even in their sparsity, or perhaps because of it.

Emily tries to tell me more about her grandpa, though she admittedly struggles to remember the full picture of him. His personality, a fragment rather than a total understanding of his identity, is the most significant lasting impression she has of him.

My grandpa was very passionate. Very strong-willed. Very stubborn. Very loud. And I was none of that. I was shy and quiet. But my grandpa wasn’t upset about that, because I was so young. He liked me because I was young—he protected me. I don’t think he necessarily liked me better. I was just so young, so he had a protective energy. But he was so much older at that point, and he got Alzheimer’s. He declined so quickly that I never really knew him all that well.

Even though Emily doesn’t remember too many details of her grandpa’s life, some of his core values were still effectively conveyed to her. These values, she believes, are connected to his Greek heritage, as she recalls his deep connection with his local Greek community. Going into more about his beliefs, she notes, “He was all about respect. When he came to [name of a city] and the local Greek community and the Orthodox church, all those people came from the same part of Greece. So that was a big part of his life. It was very communal. He loved it—them, [this] country, all of it.” Emily affords her grandfather’s priority of respect and society to the Greek community in which he found himself there. This community was sourced from a specific geographical location in Greece, which further narrows their sense of shared beliefs and convictions. These people’s collective shift from a localized part of Greece to an urban center created a juxtaposition of environments that still could not dismantle their sense of community. So instead of their values being completely destabilized with this move, they were strengthened, and, in turn, the people developed a love for their host country. On this note of patriotism, Emily returns to her grandpa’s time in the Marines:

He was injured badly in combat. I was told that he was in the hospital for a year after the war because he was so shot and broken up. And he still loved [America]. One thing about that [Greek] community [is that] maybe it was because they had nothing when they came here that they learned to appreciate so much. My grandpa was very possessions-oriented, and everything he had needed to be the best. He had to have the best cars. And the best property. And the best of everything. I remember that he had this specific order; he wanted everything to be cleaned, and “this is the way it has to be.” I didn’t test him. I’m sure it happened [with others]. And if it did, I’m sure he would have done something about it.

Having foundational experiences of hardship throughout his life, her grandpa’s comparative stability as he got older led to his gratitude, which could not even be shaken by the woes of war, nor the fact that he was likely drafted rather than a volunteer. This appreciation, as Emily sees it, also resulted in a stronger connection to material items and structure. She connects these values back to the abuse her mother endured:

He had a very specific way, that women did this and men did that. He was very—I’m not entirely sure about what the specific things were—but that was part of his abuse, I’d say. If [his children] didn’t do a certain act a certain way, he would beat them up. I felt bad for my mom from all the stories I heard. But she removed us from that so we wouldn’t experience all that. And when she did bring us back in to meet our grandfather, it never became a thing. I think if it did become a thing, she wouldn’t have allowed us to be there.

So, with her mother not wanting to impose the values that she linked to the cause of her childhood trauma onto her own children, even the firmness of her grandfather’s values couldn’t be imprinted onto Emily. And it seems that in order to have a relationship with his grandchildren, her grandpa accepted her mother’s hesitant reaction. The boundary was firm, and thus Emily’s sense of identity followed that will. Without competition with institutional authority, like that of the Greek church or even the military, the agency of her mother persevered in shaping her child’s identity.

Confronted with the tension behind Emily’s Greek culture, I ask her more about her American identity. She tells me that she is not just Greek; she has roots in Scandinavia, Germany, and other places in Europe. “I feel so American,” she says, “because I knew I was so many different things that I didn’t focus on one specific thing. It was never presented to me. There was no ‘You are Greek.’ It just was part of me.” Both of Emily’s parents, then, were descendants of immigrants, and so her identity had an array of cultural influences. Reflecting on which cultural practices she remembers from her childhood, Emily specifically recalls her experience of holidays. Her family celebrated all of the standard holidays an American Catholic would, like Christmas and Easter. But there was one holiday they celebrated that was, at least partially, Greek in origin:

We did celebrate St. Nicholas Day. I think that’s a big Greek thing. But we don’t celebrate it in the way I think most Greeks do, from what I’ve read about at least. We would leave shoes out, and St. Nicholas would fill them with candy. But I’ve heard that it’s not about gifts for the Greeks. As I got older, I realized that it was always something that my mom had in her life. I don't know her personal experience with it—I never thought to ask. I assumed it was the same. She loved it. She was always very excited about it, and I remember it was always a big thing to leave our shoes out. I don't think we ever forgot to do that. When I had kids, I was actually really excited to continue that, to celebrate it. My husband was confused, but I explained it to him, and we made it a thing. It was important to me.

Emily draws a line here, separating herself from what she sees as the authentic Greek due to the Americanization of her celebration, even though St. Nicholas Day was part of her life that she had always considered distinctly Greek. Only when she was older did she learn that her tradition is much more Americanized than she realized, and even now, she is not entirely sure what a proper celebration would entail. This also makes clear that despite Emily’s loss of relatives, she has tried to connect deeper with her heritage to some capacity. She tells me she has searched the internet for information about the holiday and read some brief accounts from Greek natives. It is also relevant that this holiday is the only expressed continuation of tradition that Emily admits to. Comparing this to other elements of Greek culture that she was exposed to, the most potent difference here is her mother’s enthusiasm. When her mother, being the perceived cultural authority, offered one positive perception of tradition, she grasped onto it, was even encouraged to do so. In passing the tradition down to her own children, this reflects on the nature of intentionality in the maintenance of tradition. She reflects on her Americanization further, commenting on her incomplete image of Greek culture. She says, “I wish I knew more about it. I wish I knew more of the relatives, more about the family, literally all of the things you could think of. I don’t know how to find them, how to find that information.” It is, then, not just the complicated relationship between Emily’s mother and grandfather that caused her to feel so disconnected from Greek culture. There is also the fact that she feels limited by the people around her and the country she lives in, preventing her from being able to reclaim certain elements of her Greek identity. This is also evident from the lack of clarity the internet offered her as a concrete vessel of cultural knowledge, coupled with her lack of direct connection with her Greek family. As a consequence of history and time, she is left consumed by her uncertainty.

Emily tells me more about other members of her family and their connections with their Greek heritage. Again, she mentions an aunt, her mother’s sister, who has a much more positive view of her grandpa than her own mother did. “She has this idealized version of him,” she explains. “I don’t know why. I guess she blocked out all the bad parts. She was his favorite. She was the youngest, like me.” I ask Emily more about her aunt, who she says is the most passionate member of her family in embracing Greek culture. Yet, she describes that even her aunt does not have the full picture of their family’s Greek heritage.

My aunt and them went to Greece a few years ago. They went to see the city where [Emily’s great-grandpa] was raised. My aunt said that after getting there, there were so many people that have a name that starts with “[…].” There’s a lot of them. I was always told that […] was [my family’s] original name, but my aunt says she doesn’t know for sure. My great-grandparents changed it when they got to America. I don’t know why. My aunt said that those […] names were everywhere. One of the guides told them two things: that it’s very unlikely they were going to find a relative because of that, and then also, they said [those relatives are] not going to be very receptive because they think you’re after money.

Emily owes her aunt more credit and authority than she does for herself in embracing their Greek culture, but there is still a gap in her aunt’s full understanding. Passion alone is then evidently not enough to recognize a complete view of their history and to embrace their Greek identity in its entirety. Emily’s story also comes full circle in its return to money: It’s why her family came to America, and it’s, according to the Greek guides, part of why she cannot connect with distant relatives and find out more about her family history. I find it ironic that the same people who asked the Greek Americans for money when the family first immigrated are the same ones expecting and opposed to that initiative in return. But this irony doesn’t shock me; so much of Emily’s story involves duality and tension between values that I almost expect the contradiction. I ask her if she would want to visit Greece herself one day and try to connect with her family roots. She says, “Yes. My aunt said they told her it was impossible. But I wouldn’t accept that. I’d try anyway. I would love to see [the ancestral city].” Interest reappears even in the face of significant obstacles. The idea of learning anything more about her family’s identity, whether that be more knowledge about her lineage or immersion into the environment her family once lived in, appeals to her in the face of her incomplete understanding.

My interview with Emily reveals that there is not so simple an answer as to why tradition is lost across generations. It is due to multiple, interconnected components, some of which arise in new contexts and others that stem back to the decision behind a family’s immigration. For Emily, in part, her loss of tradition is due to her grandfather’s abuse of her mother. This can also be attributed to his growing up in an orphanage, which only happened because his parents could not afford life in America. There is also the element of Emily’s family history not being fully documented, as well as the expected attitudes of Greek relatives that might inhibit any attempts to rekindle familial ties, even if she did find one of them. Additionally, Emily experienced other cultural influences, like that of her Catholic grandmother and her father’s German heritage, meaning Greek tradition was just one element that shaped her larger identity, and Greek institutional authority was lacking; other influences were more prevalent in her life, and they even sometimes contradicted Greek traditions, creating a hybridized notion of culture for Emily. It is certainly not for want of connection to culture that prohibits such achievement.

Today, Emily and her family are left at a stalemate, feeling the impossibility of fully embracing their Greek heritage. They could, of course, do research into Greek culture and look deeper into the traditions they already practice, which some members of Emily’s family, like herself and her aunt, have already done. But in looking for evidence of the family’s direct experiences with Greek culture, there is a hole left behind that cannot be filled without the thread of personal connection. Tradition, then, is something that needs to be intentionally transmitted between generations for it to remain embedded in a family’s folklore. And for families like Emily’s, the harshness of reality does not always allow that to be a priority.