Fledgling
By: susan peterson stamis
Tags: foreign service, garter belt, greek, moustache, safety razor, shaving, state department, stockings
Category: Uncategorized
My father’s father’s surname was Lymberopoulos. It was a Greek mouthful worthy of Demosthenes, but in the days of turn-of-the century immigration in America when ethnic pride was discouraged, the name was changed to Peterson. Because my father’s father’s father’s first name was Peter, my father’s father was Peter’s son. Peterson! To further muddy the waters, in keeping with the Greek tradition of naming the first-born son after the paternal grandfather, my father’s first name was Peter; ergo his name was Peter Peterson, even though he wasn’t really Peter’s son, but Peter’s grandson.
When strangers were introduced to Susan Peterson, they would often do a double- take, trying to reconcile my Scandinavian name with my very un-Scandinavian appearance. Like many Greek girls, I was endowed with sideburns, moustache, unibrow and a Neanderthal hairline. That lovely Grecian kisser sat atop a squat olive-green body supported by sturdy, furry legs.
One day when I was 12, I sequestered myself in the bathroom and attacked my right leg with a pumice stone. After an entire exhausting afternoon spent rubbing the abundant hair off from the knee down, I eventually got up the nerve to confess to my mother, who took rare pity on me and handed me a “safety” razor with a double-edged blue blade.
Armed with the razor and a bar of soap, I got into the bathtub and proceeded to remove the hair and half the skin from my left leg. Unable to dissuade me from my insane plan to grow up, Mom eventually admitted she was licked and one day presented me with a pair of nylons and a garter belt.
I guess the “How to Sit Like a Lady” lesson came later.
7 comments on “Fledgling”
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About Me
My father was a Consular Officer in the United States Foreign Service. He was first stationed in post World War II Berlin, where I was born in 1950. Subsequently, we lived in the Philippines; Jamaica; Guatemala; Washington, DC; Greece; Ceylon and Mexico; visiting many places in between. I was reared by my parents and nurtured by the various amahs, nannies, and housemaids who, every two years or so, entered and exited my little life.
I was educated in American Schools in “foreign lands,” but the most fascinating classrooms were the exotic locales where we lived, and the most inspiring teachers were the colorful people of those exotic and ancient cultures.
The bi-annual “home leaves” which my family spent at my grandparents’ homes in Los Angeles, California provided a sense of constancy to our nomadic lifestyle. My many aunts, uncles and cousins lived there and I eagerly looked forward to those vacations. We were 1st and 2nd generation Greek Americans (all 4 of my grandparents had immigrated at the turn of the century), and thus had foreignness stamped onto us even though we were Americans.
Two of my father’s siblings were also in the diplomatic service, and we world-traveling cousins were a source of endless curiosity to our domestic counterparts when we came home speaking English with unusual accents, reducing the statesiders to hysterics.With his various cameras, Kodachrome, Ektachrome, 16 millimeter, Super 8 and Polaroid, my father rarely lost an opportunity to document the events unfolding around us. After years of waiting patiently in boxes under the stairs, these photographic records are now fulfilling their purpose as mnemonic retrievals of my little life.
Mnemonic Retrievals 
I was laughing out loud on that one…
Great mom… Just so great!
Susan, these are so much fun to read! My similar shaving story happened the day of Joanne and Bob’s wedding!
I remember that Patti!
Can’t stop laughing!
You continuously amaze me with your brillance. Joanne
That was hysterical!….and I felt your pain!
Susan and Patti, I too suffered with “gorilla legs” when I was in the 7th grade. I’ll never forget having to wear lacy ankle socks to the first day of school with my hairy legs, black patent maryjanes and my dotted swiss party dress while all the other girls wore straight skirts with clean shaven legs, peds and flats. Any wonder I’m a little insecure. Susy, I just couldn’t stop laughing with this one. Keep them coming.