From Droushia to Detroit:
Nick Zingas' Struggle for Survival, and the Pursuit of Success
By Cole Zingas
One of the reasons that Papou is a success story is because of the strong family he raised — a family that knows the importance of relying on each other. Watch them talk about what Papou means to them.
This button will take you to Papou’s story, divided up into different parts of his life, from his time as a boy in Cyprus, to a working young adult in Detroit, to his time as the manager of Mama Mia’s in Allen Park.
An inward look at myself and what I hold to be important. In this essay I highlight my definition of success before completing this project.
What have I learned from this process? How have my views of success changed? What does this project mean? How can this help myself, and others reading it in the future?
Papou and Theo Theodosis
Yiayia on her wedding day, 1956
Thea Despina, her three boys Niko (oldest), Costa, and Andrea (baby) with Yiayia and Papou
Papou and Theo Theodosis
Sitting on his porch with a cup of coffee as the sun rises in a quiet neighborhood in Lexington, Michigan, Nick Zingas watches the empty dirt road and enjoys the sun. He rocks back and forth in the chair, watching the blades of green grass bristle in the light breeze, perfectly at peace. At 88 years old, this is where my grandfather feels most content. An old man now, he can relax. No longer does he sleep in his car. No longer does he have to find a new job. He knows where his next meal is coming from. In fact, he can smell it… the ham and feta cheesy eggs sizzle on the stove, and overpower the house with their warm, satisfying scent.
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The remainder of the temporary residents, myself included, wake up sleepily and slowly, rubbing our eyes — possibly from a few too many games of Pastra (our go-to family card game) that went late into the night — bringing out everyone’s competitive nature and evidencing a taste of our family’s characteristic over-zealous, wild emotion.
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Playing cards was the late-night event — the more faint of heart retired to their bunk beds as the chill of the night reduced the outdoor fire to sparks from its once-billowing heat. The firekeeper that night was the elder Nick, my namesake and that of many of my cousins. Stories told around the backyard fire usually range from lighthearted to ridiculous. But that night, Nick (who we call ‘Papou’) began to tell our group of young Zingas’ a story. This tale was the story of his beginnings.
Obviously, one night around the fire wasn’t enough to go through every detail about his life, but what he told us was eye-opening for me.
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Before, he’d told me bits and pieces —
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— but I’d never asked him to put it together.
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Respecting my elders is something I’ve always done, because they’re the ones who’ve taken care of me. My parents and grandparents have taken care of my every need, giving me every tool necessary to accomplish whatever my little heart desired.
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When someone gives you a gift, you can say thank you and appreciate the gift for what it is — maybe a new snowboard or deck of playing cards. But understanding what that person went through to get you that gift is makes that object mean something more. No longer is that object worth $399 or fifty cents or whatever the price-tag may say, that object is important to you, personally. It has a story behind it and keeps a connection to another person kindling.
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So, the privilege granted to me cannot be truly appreciated without knowing how hard it was to come by. It wasn’t given, it was earned. Holding the stories of my family in my heart, will fuel me in my ambition, values, and goals.
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Writing these stories down; reflecting on what they mean to me; seeing the pictures of the past… this is essential for me now more than ever. I now enter the professional world, with the opportunity to make all of my own choices, the opportunity to take my life in whatever direction that I feel is the most worthwhile. Knowing why I push forward, what place culture and family and religion have in my life, that’s why this is an important project. And as much as I feel this project is important to me, I also believe others can take inspiration from the stories presented here.
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...as we would drive through Detroit to hockey practices, past boarded-up buildings and abandoned high rises, he’d tell me stories of what life in the city had once been...we’d drive past Allen Park to violin lessons, and he’d give me stories about the sauce he would make in the restaurant...sitting on the pier, he’d tell me of the times he went fishing to give himself a break from the sweat of the restaurant.
“Man, supposing you and I, escaping this battle, would be able to live on forever, ageless, immortal, so neither would I myself go on fighting in the formeost, nor would I urge you into the fighting where men win glory. But now, seeing that the spirits of death stand close about us in their thousands, no man can turn aside or escape them, let us go on and win glory for ourselves, or yield it to others.”
Homer, The Iliad.