Generational Dream as Fuel

“A few hours after I was born, my father, Andreas Catsimatidis, took me to the house of his mother, who hadn’t been well. He carried me into the bedroom and handed me to my *Ya-Ya,* which is what Greek children call their grandmothers. Without a word of prompting, she said to my father, “A new Yiánni Catsimatidis is born.” That was her late husband’s name, Yiánni—Greek for John. And that night, my grandmother died. That very night. She was happy the whole day long.”

“My parents never considered themselves poor or oppressed or downtrodden. Why should they have? They had ambition. They had hard work. They had each other. And they also had me, their first and only child, a brand-new generation to carry their dreams forward. America was the land of opportunity. Lucky for us, we were here.”