Hammer Head

 

I’m ten years old, in my bed after bringing in the New Year at midnight when a dark shadowy figure emerges from the hallway raising a hammer high in the air ready to strike me. 

 

Our annual New Year’s Eve tradition was to open all the windows and doors at midnight, go out on the porch and bang on pots and pans, blow noisemakers and generally make a huge racket.  Other neighbors came out on their porches to see what all the racket was about and joined in wishing everyone a new year. 

Our noises were not just about a celebration of bringing in the New Year, but rather a Greek tradition that was passed down through the generations to let the evil spirits out of the house and scare them away with loud noises.

After bringing in the New Year, we would cut into the Vasilopita (St. Basil Bread).  The bread would be covered with coins and money and ornaments from the tree.  There was a shot glass of whiskey on the bread, which my Dad would joyously partake of.  Inside the bread, there was a coin baked right into the loaf. 

My Dad would cut the bread into pieces.  A piece would be assigned to each of the family members, the business, our automobiles, relatives, with the biggest piece set aside for God to thank him for the many blessings in our lives.  We would anxiously eat our bread looking carefully for the coin baked into it.  Whoever received the coin in their piece was assured a year of good luck.

What does all of this have to do with the shadowy figure swinging a hammer in the middle of the night?  It turns out that one tradition that was passed down in our family from my yiayia and pappou (grandmother and grandfather) had to do with a hammer, holy water and a pomegranate.  Supposedly, the tradition goes back to Byzantine times.  Mom would creep into our room in the middle of the night, hit us on the head with the hammer sprinkling holy water and proclaiming “Σιδηρούν Κεφάλι!” (Iron Head!)

 

It could be why I am such a hard head about things.

Happy New Year.  Χρόνια Πολλά!