The first month of the new year—2022—has come and gone, leaving behind days many of us would rather forget: households without power in certain areas of Athens for many hours, streets impassable without the use of snow chains, roads blocked by snow which turned icy at night with the falling temperature, thousands of trees whose branches buckled from the weight of the snow.
The ones who rejoiced in all this whiteness were the children who took advantage of closed schools to play in the snow, building snowmen, having snowball fights and sledding down slopes of all shapes and sizes. With them were the not-so-young in years, but still young at heart!
At the January Board meeting, once again held online via ZOOM, the “official” pitta was cut for Board members and the “flouri” went to the AWOG Clubhouse. This was interpreted as a good omen, promising a productive and successful year for us!
Later in January, AWOG continued its activities with a Literary Club discussion about a piece by the late Joan Didion, and the annual pitta-cutting—online– on January 27. This year the AWOG New Year pitta was cut into 6 pieces: one for each of the areas (Glyfada, Halandri, Kolonaki/Plaka, Psyhico, Papagou/Holargos, and one piece for AWOG. The lucky winner was Kolonaki/Plaka and so the area representative will be notified. A drawing was held for the “flouri” (coin) among those present and the name drawn was that of former AWOG president, Bessie Sioutas-Vassilopoulou. Congratulations to the winners.
Lighthouse for the Blind sent us their invitation for their own pitta-cutting ceremony which coincidentally was also on January 27.
As we look forward to the annual Halcyon Days, more hours of sunlight and spring-like weather, plans are in the making for a Valentine’s Day get-together online. More details will be forthcoming.
February would not be complete without a poem to honor love. Enjoy this one by Christina Rossetti.—
I Wish I Could Remember That First Day
I wish I could remember that first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me,
If bright or dim the season, it might be
Summer or Winter for aught I can say;
So unrecorded did it slip away,
So blind was I to see and to foresee,
So dull to mark the budding of my tree
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it, such
A day of days! I let it come and go
As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;
It seemed to mean so little, meant so much; If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand in hand – Did one but know!
Christina Rossetti (1830–1894)