I Am From . . .

Editor’s Note: Elena Malliaris’ (from Taos, New Mexico) last day on earth was Tuesday, January 9, 2024. Throughout her life she made mental notes of her journey and how those experiences helped her grow and become who she was.

During her last days she wrote a poem/writing titled, I Am From, depicting her life. Ms. Malliaris and her son Daniel Escalante granted us permission to publish this special, very personal writing as a tribute to her family gone before her and words of wisdom to those still living. Ms. Malliaris was a courageous young woman of 94 who bravely transitioned from this world to the next.

LaVozColorado is honored to publish her last thoughts. Ms. Malliaris was given the news yesterday and was extremely happy to learn her words would live on.
Enjoy the read I Am From. . . and a life well led. Vaya con Dios Elena.

By Elena Malliaris

I am from avena in the morning, mixed with apples, raisins, and cinnamon, cooked by papa on the big black stove, while his kids sat, watched and waited.

I am from sweet smelling arroz con leche made with rice, sugar, raisins, cinnamon and love.

I am from eating fat gorditas stuffed with whatever papa could find in the fridge.

I am from delicious deviled eggs made with the gifts we collected from our chickens.

I am from fresh veggies that we picked from our garden, and milk that our cow gave us, and papitas which found their way into almost every meal.

I am from the Great Depression. But, we never knew we were poor.

I am from being a child who played in the back of our car, while my family stooped all day to pick other people’s vegetables.

I am from going home from the fields to a tent and a cave on the beach, because my parents couldn’t afford a house.

I am from using an outhouse stocked with a Sears and Roebucks catalogue instead of toilet paper.

I am from driving to Los Angeles in our Willy’s (all eight of us plus the animals), and the people there who made us feel like we didn’t belong. They called us “rancheros”.

I am from riding on the train all the way to Texas with the whole family and eating for free because my papa worked for the railroad.

I am from our whole family driving to Castroville, the artichoke capitol of the world, so we could meet up with the only Mexican kids that we were allowed to play with.

I am from our friendly neighbors down the road, who always gave us Portuguese food to snack on.

I am from “Don’t forget to milk the cow!”

I am from “Never let people know how we live at home and never cast a shadow on the family.”

I am from my Papa, my Mother and five siblings whose names were changed by the people outside our home.

I am from “What will people say?!”, and “Just lay low and don’t bring any attention to the family”

I am from “You can be yourselves at home but you have to be someone else outside the home. You have to assimilate.”

I am from “Be careful of the bones”, which meant “Watch out, there may be dangers within.”

I am from “Don’t speak to me with that big mouth or I’m going to tear your trap apart!”

I am from my Mother whose parents died in the 1918 pandemic when she was just a child and then forced to leave Mexico for a better life in the North, only to slave in the fields, clean people’s toilets and be treated like she was less than the Anglos.

I am from my Mother, who somehow found a way to raise her six children in a world that did not welcome them.

I am from the author, John Stienbeck, who confirmed with his writing that Mexicans do count in this world. Mexican lives did matter. And still do.

I am from my Mother who taught me about the importance of reading, which opened my eyes and led me to learning first-hand about the world.

I am from traveling to meet beautiful people in faraway places, and realizing that we are all one.

I am from my Mother who said, “Columbus didn’t find us, we weren’t lost!!”

I am from my 7th grade counselor Mr. Lien who tried to dash my dreams and give up on myself.

I am from Elias, my Greek husband who could play the saxaphone, who was so generous with my family and others, who restored my dreams and confidence and who helped me find my strength, even though his own family hated Mexicans.

I am from my beautiful daughter Giovana: a diplomat, a teacher, a leader, and loved by all who meet her.

I am from my fellow traveler son Tony who died in his partner’s loving arms after fighting with AIDS for so many years. Tony died far too young.

I am from my strong-willed and courageous daughter Lisa, who had to leave behind her beautiful 8 year-old son. Lisa, too, died far too young.

I am from Mrs Rau who tried to humiliate me into changing my name to sound more “American”, then locked me in the closet all day for not using the name she gave me. What’s worse is that she got my mom fired just because I refused to conform.

I am from a teacher who was always so angry and gruff but answered all my questions and satisfied my thirst for knowledge. Thank You, Thank You, Mrs. McGowen.

I am from Mrs. Berg, a piano teacher who taught me that just because my family didn’t have money didn’t mean that I couldn’t succeed, and then gave me lessons in exchange for caring for her cat. Thank You, Thank You, Mrs. Berg.

I am from “Don’t live beyond your means”. “Pay your bills on time.” And,

“Never charge anything, but it’s ok to lay-away.”

I am from, “If you make a promise, keep your promise. You won’t get a second chance.”

I am from, “You have to be nice to people, even if they aren’t nice to you.” Easier said than done.

I am from the spectacular musicals of the 50’s, classical music of all kinds, jazz saxophone, and big bands.

I am from working in a music store and helping people to find just the right album, while getting paid half of what others were earning.

I am from singing and dancing all my life in the rain, thunder, and lightning.

I am from the Greek saying, “Kalos Taxidi!” Have a good journey!

And it has been a good one!