My hometown, Tarpon Springs, is an eclectic town that has had its share of growth and change yet has managed to maintain its small town charm. It sits on the Gulf Coast just northwest of Tampa and is situated at the mouth of the Anclote River. Most of the outlying areas are actually below sea level. Divers have been lost in the vast labyrinth of underwater caves the town sits on and that create the array of bayous that roads curve around.
The town's main culture is Greek, with most of the original population being emigrants who came due to the sponge diving in the area. The Sponge Docks are the cultural epicenter of the town, boasting authentic Greek restaurants and shops as well as the typical tourist traps. Many of the restaurants and shops are owned by Greek families who have been there for generations.
The homes in the area range from amazing Victorians (like the one to the left owned by my friend Annie which is now a B&B called the 1910 Inn - check out her web site), huge Mediterranean and Spanish style mansions, modern contemporaries, and typical Florida ranch homes that still boast jalousie windows and terrazzo floors. Brick streets were the norm and many of the streets are still preserved with the original bricks. Honeysuckle runs rampant and spanish moss hangs romantically around the town.
I took dance lessons downtown and walked after class to Tarapani's Department Store for my clothes or to Fakilis' Shoe Store for shoes or repairs. My grandfather owned the local television repair shop (Ringus' TV Repair) and he only sold American and would buy me a bottle of Coke from the old cooler in the breezeway. Across the street was the soda shop that made me fall in love with BLT sandwiches and root beer floats. The jewelry store was down the street and my pediatrician was a few blocks further down, right before you got to the hospital my great grandparents passed away in and I was born in. Spring Bayou, in the middle of town, was where Epiphany was held each January 6th, where the art show was each spring (where I got my first real painting), and the tennis courts just down from the library where I learned my wicked backhand.
I grew up riding my bike all over town, there was no place out of reach. In one direction was the bayous and downtown, in the other was the beach. Greek men would sit at the restaurants at the docks sipping on Greek coffee and playing chess. The daycare was in an old Victorian house and Greek School was in the building behind the Greek Orthodox Cathedral where I was baptized, went to mass, sang in the choir, and took communion. My cousins and friends lived within riding distance and I walked to school from kindergarten until I was in high school and moved away. I rode the bus during Jr. high, but it was still within walking distance to my grandfather's shop or the church where I took piano lessons.
I remember getting ice at the old train station, when there was still a train running, and going to check the post office box on the next block over. In between was Smirlis Bakery and the area always smelled like fresh baked bread. When the Wendy's opened up, my grandmother was estatic that she could get a hamburger without having to leave her car. She loved peanut butter ice cream from Caravel and I got my chili dog craving fix from the Chicken King next door to my cousin's ABC Pizza next door.
There was a museum with Tiffany creations in it and a shop that sold handmade lace. Dipped cones from the Popeye's Chicken (not the chain, but one that was actually owned by an old Navy guy nicknamed Popeye). They filmed the show Flipper in my hometown, almost filmed Popeye at the docks but chose a town in New England instead (which we thought was a serious mistake) and my grandmother's Godson sang at my mother's wedding before he became famous for the song Key Largo (Bertie Higgins).
The ties that bind in a small town are fast and hold for generations. I have met people who, when I tell them where I am from, find we have friends or relatives in common. I still, at the age of 48, have many friends and relatives who still live there and who I look forward to seeing or reacquainting with when I go back, like Annie who owns the 1910 Inn, we have not seen each other since 10th grade. But I have not been back often.
I left when I was 15 and my mother moved me to Tampa where she was living, I had been living with my grandparents at the time to finish school in my hometown. I went back to visit in college to see my grandparents. At the time I moved away, there was no internet or cell phones. Long distance was expensive and 15 year olds were not good at writing letters. I went away to college a year after that and then got married 3 years later. I went back to live near there but only for a year. My ex was in the Air Force so when he finished with basic and tech school, we started traveling the world.
I went home for my grandmother's funeral. Then my grandfathers. I took an old boyfriend there to see where I grew up. Since 1995 those have been the only times I have been back home until this past year. Tomorrow I am leaving to go for the 5th time in 20 years.
I have never been close to people from home. I haven't been back often due to bad memories I wanted to leave behind and distance (after my grandparents died, my mother didn't live near town again until about 5 years ago). But as I have gotten closer to old friends and cousins with the advent of the internet and the wonderful people connector Facebook (yeah, I know....don't judge me), I am looking forward to this trip. I have put most of my ghosts behind me, just a few remain. I am remembering a few new things each time I return that I had forgotten. My cousins who still live in the area are excellent historians and help me remember.
This trip is going to be different. We are having a party for a lot of the graduating class of 1982 who are turning 50 (I am a year younger...hehehe and yes, I do rub it in) and I will get to see people I have not seen in 33 years. Wow, 33 years. This past year has brought a lot of reconnecting with my past, and while some has been very difficult, some has also been very wonderful. Getting close to my small circle of cousins and friends who I speak to on a regular basis has made me feel more connected to my past than anyone has before. They accept me unconditionally, they calm my fears, they comfort my demons, and they have stood by me, encouraged me, and have made me feel a part of something again. I always looked up to them growing up, they were a year older and so glamorous and mature. I wanted to be like them, with them, be accepted. I always felt like I was the younger one who they were forced to allow to tag along, but I have learned through conversations that they wanted me there. That was probably one of the most defining moments for me as an adult, to know my presence was wanted and enjoyed as a kid. They have shown me a side of myself I had never really seen before from someone else's eyes. And for that, I feel so blessed.
While I am home I will visit my old church, pray to the God I know doesn't care which religion I practice as long as it is in His house. I will kiss the icon in the front of the church and light a candle for my loved ones who have passed into His heavenly kingdom. I will see old friends, old stomping grounds, and be excited that my old friends have become a part of the leadership of the hometown I love so dearly. I will probably never live there again, but it is nice to know that after all the pain and hurt, I can still go home again.
The town's main culture is Greek, with most of the original population being emigrants who came due to the sponge diving in the area. The Sponge Docks are the cultural epicenter of the town, boasting authentic Greek restaurants and shops as well as the typical tourist traps. Many of the restaurants and shops are owned by Greek families who have been there for generations.
The homes in the area range from amazing Victorians (like the one to the left owned by my friend Annie which is now a B&B called the 1910 Inn - check out her web site), huge Mediterranean and Spanish style mansions, modern contemporaries, and typical Florida ranch homes that still boast jalousie windows and terrazzo floors. Brick streets were the norm and many of the streets are still preserved with the original bricks. Honeysuckle runs rampant and spanish moss hangs romantically around the town.
I took dance lessons downtown and walked after class to Tarapani's Department Store for my clothes or to Fakilis' Shoe Store for shoes or repairs. My grandfather owned the local television repair shop (Ringus' TV Repair) and he only sold American and would buy me a bottle of Coke from the old cooler in the breezeway. Across the street was the soda shop that made me fall in love with BLT sandwiches and root beer floats. The jewelry store was down the street and my pediatrician was a few blocks further down, right before you got to the hospital my great grandparents passed away in and I was born in. Spring Bayou, in the middle of town, was where Epiphany was held each January 6th, where the art show was each spring (where I got my first real painting), and the tennis courts just down from the library where I learned my wicked backhand.
I grew up riding my bike all over town, there was no place out of reach. In one direction was the bayous and downtown, in the other was the beach. Greek men would sit at the restaurants at the docks sipping on Greek coffee and playing chess. The daycare was in an old Victorian house and Greek School was in the building behind the Greek Orthodox Cathedral where I was baptized, went to mass, sang in the choir, and took communion. My cousins and friends lived within riding distance and I walked to school from kindergarten until I was in high school and moved away. I rode the bus during Jr. high, but it was still within walking distance to my grandfather's shop or the church where I took piano lessons.
I remember getting ice at the old train station, when there was still a train running, and going to check the post office box on the next block over. In between was Smirlis Bakery and the area always smelled like fresh baked bread. When the Wendy's opened up, my grandmother was estatic that she could get a hamburger without having to leave her car. She loved peanut butter ice cream from Caravel and I got my chili dog craving fix from the Chicken King next door to my cousin's ABC Pizza next door.
There was a museum with Tiffany creations in it and a shop that sold handmade lace. Dipped cones from the Popeye's Chicken (not the chain, but one that was actually owned by an old Navy guy nicknamed Popeye). They filmed the show Flipper in my hometown, almost filmed Popeye at the docks but chose a town in New England instead (which we thought was a serious mistake) and my grandmother's Godson sang at my mother's wedding before he became famous for the song Key Largo (Bertie Higgins).
The ties that bind in a small town are fast and hold for generations. I have met people who, when I tell them where I am from, find we have friends or relatives in common. I still, at the age of 48, have many friends and relatives who still live there and who I look forward to seeing or reacquainting with when I go back, like Annie who owns the 1910 Inn, we have not seen each other since 10th grade. But I have not been back often.
I left when I was 15 and my mother moved me to Tampa where she was living, I had been living with my grandparents at the time to finish school in my hometown. I went back to visit in college to see my grandparents. At the time I moved away, there was no internet or cell phones. Long distance was expensive and 15 year olds were not good at writing letters. I went away to college a year after that and then got married 3 years later. I went back to live near there but only for a year. My ex was in the Air Force so when he finished with basic and tech school, we started traveling the world.
I went home for my grandmother's funeral. Then my grandfathers. I took an old boyfriend there to see where I grew up. Since 1995 those have been the only times I have been back home until this past year. Tomorrow I am leaving to go for the 5th time in 20 years.
I have never been close to people from home. I haven't been back often due to bad memories I wanted to leave behind and distance (after my grandparents died, my mother didn't live near town again until about 5 years ago). But as I have gotten closer to old friends and cousins with the advent of the internet and the wonderful people connector Facebook (yeah, I know....don't judge me), I am looking forward to this trip. I have put most of my ghosts behind me, just a few remain. I am remembering a few new things each time I return that I had forgotten. My cousins who still live in the area are excellent historians and help me remember.
This trip is going to be different. We are having a party for a lot of the graduating class of 1982 who are turning 50 (I am a year younger...hehehe and yes, I do rub it in) and I will get to see people I have not seen in 33 years. Wow, 33 years. This past year has brought a lot of reconnecting with my past, and while some has been very difficult, some has also been very wonderful. Getting close to my small circle of cousins and friends who I speak to on a regular basis has made me feel more connected to my past than anyone has before. They accept me unconditionally, they calm my fears, they comfort my demons, and they have stood by me, encouraged me, and have made me feel a part of something again. I always looked up to them growing up, they were a year older and so glamorous and mature. I wanted to be like them, with them, be accepted. I always felt like I was the younger one who they were forced to allow to tag along, but I have learned through conversations that they wanted me there. That was probably one of the most defining moments for me as an adult, to know my presence was wanted and enjoyed as a kid. They have shown me a side of myself I had never really seen before from someone else's eyes. And for that, I feel so blessed.
While I am home I will visit my old church, pray to the God I know doesn't care which religion I practice as long as it is in His house. I will kiss the icon in the front of the church and light a candle for my loved ones who have passed into His heavenly kingdom. I will see old friends, old stomping grounds, and be excited that my old friends have become a part of the leadership of the hometown I love so dearly. I will probably never live there again, but it is nice to know that after all the pain and hurt, I can still go home again.