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| Picture of my father from long ago |
My father, Harry Yiasemides, passed away on January 17, 2022 at the age of 80. We held his funeral on January 25, 2022. Below is a text of the speech I gave in his honor. I know many of my friends and family were hoping to receive a copy of my speech, and this blog is the perfect medium for distributing it on social media.
"Reverend clergy, honorable and worthy guests and visitors, beloved friends and family, thank you for coming today to pray with us, to share in our grief, and to honor the memory of the departed. I see many people from the local community, from our church, and from our restaurant. Most of you knew my father as a local business man, a supporter of the church, and as a loving family man; however, there was much more to my father. It is my intention to introduce to him in a more complete manner.
He was born on the island of Cyprus on December 21, 1941, at the time a British colony. His father was Yiangos, and his mother Evridiki. He had 3 older sisters, Nitsa, Soula, and Niki, and a younger brother Miltiades. My grandfather was a gentleman farmer, and for the society of the time was considered well to do. They came from a line of distinguished men. My father grew up in his father’s fields, his citrus groves, his olive trees, his livestock, and this instilled in my father a deep love of agriculture which he retained to his last day in this life. He would frequently mention how much he missed his familial home.
As a very small child, maybe about 4 or five years old, my father became very ill, with an illness which was almost 100% fatal at the time as they lacked the modern antibiotics which easily remedy this illness. He lay in bed for weeks, my grandparents were convinced they were going to lose him, as a matter fact my grandfather purchased a plot of land in preparation for his burial. As he lay at death’s doorstep one night a lady in a red robe came to him in his dreams and said “My child I will save you, I won’t let you die” In the morning my father jumped out of bed, completely healthy. My grandparents were astonished, but my father told them about his dream and his visitor. They quickly scooped him and ran to the church in order to thank God for his miraculous recovery. As he entered the church, the young Harry pointed to the icon of the Panayia, the All-Holy Mother of God, the Virgin Mary, and exclaimed “that is the lady that spoke to me in my dream.” This instilled in my father a deep love for the Panayia, which he carried with him into eternity. Later in life, he helped build this very church which is dedicated to our most glorious Lady the Theotokos, the mother of our Lord.
To continue, I must tell you about the island of Cyprus. Since the dim reaches of antiquity, Cyprus has always been populated by Greek speaking people. Beginning in the first Millennium AD, it would be passed along from one conqueror to the next. First it was the Muslim Arabs, next would arrive the Crusaders, later on the Ottoman Turks, and eventually the British Empire would acquire the island in the late 1800’s. For almost a thousand years, the local Greek people bided their time, hoping to one day gain independence.
When my father was born things were peaceful, and Cyprus thrived as a part of the British Empire. However, the times would soon become very turbulent. As a teenager my father joined the revolution to liberate Cyprus from the yoke of British colonial rule. He played an active role in the armed revolution and did whatever was ordered by the leadership. After the revolution, he joined the newly formed military of Cyprus, as was required of all young men of suitable age, as a member of the elite forces known locally as Green Berets. For comparisons, they are somewhat comparable to US Army Rangers. He attained the rank of Senior NCO, and proudly served as a drill instructor during his tenure of full time service. The political situation in Cyprus was complex, and violently partisan to a degree with which we are unfamiliar here in North America. The revolution, military service, and involvement in the convoluted political intrigues in Cyprus, toughened my father; they made him into a man that did not give up. We could see this in his work ethic, whether it was in his father’s fields, in his restaurant, and in his efforts to build and support this church.
Because of his great love of everything agricultural, from a young age my father greatly desired to make a career as a farmer. He joined the local 4H club and eventually came to the US as a foreign exchange student during the 1960’s. He was hosted by different farming families in Utah, Florida, and for a time by his Uncle Harry in Virginia Beach, whom he was named after. He established friendships which lasted a lifetime. He was greatly impressed by the natural beauty of the US, by the good character of its citizens, by its effective and harmonious political system and efficient government administration, by the freedoms which are so fundamental to daily life, and to the great opportunities available to anyone that wishes to follow their dreams.
My grandfather needed lots of employees to work his fields, he hired a lady named Eleni and she worked for him along with her young daughter Maria. My grandfather was greatly impressed by the good character of the ladies he hired, as was my father. He and Maria developed a friendship, and the normal sort of thing happened, they fell in love and were married in 1971. Sadly, their marital bliss was interrupted, soon after they married, the Turks invaded Cyprus in July 1974. My father fought in the defense of home and country, but poor Cyprus was no match for the very large, modern and well equipped invading army of Turkey. The Northern half of the island was lost to the Turks, and remains occupied 47 years later. My family, from both my mothers and fathers side lost everything: their homes, their fields, and all their possessions. They could only take what they could carry, and became destitute in one night. My father was heartbroken; his home was lost along with the fields and citrus groves that he loved so much. Taking my expectant mother, and filled with the memories of his time in the US, they decided to start a new life in the New World. Dad would always say “We came to this country with $20 dollars in my pocket and the clothes on our backs”. They arrived in Dulles airport, in November of 1974. I was born a few months later, and my sisters would follow a few years thereafter.
Life in the US was very difficult the first few years. My father spoke broken English and my mother not at all. They both did whatever they could to make a living; my mother had been trained as a seamstress and soon found employment at a tailor shop. My father worked in a 7-11; he delivered doughnuts for Krispy Kreme, and eventually got into driving tractor trailers for a short while. Tragedy struck within two years of their arrival, dad was involved in two separate vehicular accidents through no fault of his own. He was severely injured, and it took some time for him to recover his health. But as I mentioned before, life in Cyprus had toughened him, he did not give up. Receiving a small court settlement from his second accident, he and my mother decided to go into business for themselves. In 1979 they purchased their first restaurant, the El Greco in Alexandria Virginia. Soon thereafter they would leave the mobile home in which they had lived and bought their first house. Both of my parents were committed to making a new life here in America, and with great enthusiasm became US citizens as soon as the law allowed. Dad being a sociable person, made many friends, our home was always filled with visitors and guests. Those were happy times, with many fond memories. There are too many stories to tell, but one always sticks out in my mind. One fine Easter Sunday, we had the traditional cookout in the backyard of our home in Alexandria, and my dad thought it would be a great way to liven up the celebration by shooting off a few rounds into the air. This was in a suburban subdivision, where homes had quarter of an acre lots, there were lots of neighbors and of course, one of them called the police when they heard gunfire. The police showed up very quickly, and surrounded our yard, soon a police Sargent showed up to investigate. He took one look at my dad and announced to his officers “Oh it’s just Harry, don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.” The good sergeant was a regular customer at the El Greco, and still remains a friend to this very day. Dad sold the El Greco after a few years and bought a deli near the Skyline Towers in Falls Church, Virginia. That did not turn out as well as had been hoped, and dad sold that within a short time. Soon thereafter in 1986, a friend told dad about a Diner in a sleepy little town called Fredericksburg that was for sale. And the rest is a history that we all know well.
Some people would call my father a revolutionary or freedom fighter, but that was not his most prevalent or outstanding quality. Others would call him a shrewd business man, but again that was not his most outstanding quality. Others would call him other things, from quick tempered or even other things because of his political involvement in Cyprus, but again those were not his most prevalent qualities, and people that said those things did not really know him at all. His most outstanding quality was his love.
He loved the Panayia, the mother of our Lord. He loved agriculture, the citrus groves of his familial home; he loved the animals that he tended while he was growing up. He loved his family, and would gladly sacrifice himself for his wife and children. He may have been a strict father, and sometimes he would forget he was no longer a drill sergeant, but his children never doubted that he loved them very much. He loved his country, both the country of his birth and his adopted country here in the US. He loved the traditions and the history of the Greek people, and he made certain that his children also learned to love those same things. May father believed in something very strongly, and I share that belief, we must instill in our children, and in their children, a love for their heritage so they may always be proud that they will carry on a legacy of a people and culture that have endured many thousands of years, since the very beginning of human civilization. He loved people and was generous to everyone, no matter how humble. If someone came to the door of his restaurant, without any money, and asked for something to eat, Harry Yiasemides made certain they were provided with something; and he made certain that his staff was well aware of this policy. He always declared “God has given us plenty; we can certainly share with those that have nothing.” I can say with some certainty, knowing my father as well as I did, that he loved each and every one of us that have gathered together here today, and many, many others that are absent and in faraway places. That was his most outstanding quality, his great love. That was the man I knew, the man I respected and looked up to, and the man whose very wise council I will always remember.
Father if you will permit it with your blessing, I wish to honor my father’s memory and his love for Cyprus and those many places in Greece and elsewhere which are still under threat today, I would ask that you call upon the Panayia which has always protected her people, and lead us in singing the “Τῇ ὑπερμάχῳ”.
Thank you.