I’ve always been proud of my Greek heritage – that’s an understatement for myself and many fellow Hellenes.

In my youth, I embraced it in what I thought was its entirety. I learned how to Greek dance, regularly attended Greek Orthodox Church, enrolled myself in Greek school, strictly followed the religious calendar and dyed my Easter eggs red.

Growing up, I participated in JOY, GOYA and YAL. I taught myself to cook all of my favorite Greek dishes. In college, my homemade dinners to roommates included pastitsio, dolmathes, spanakopita and baklava for dessert. I thought I knew all about what it meant to be Greek.

Then at the age of 29, I visited Greece for the first time in the first year of my marriage. Needless to say, experiencing the heritage of my ancestors in person exceeded any previous knowledge I thought I had about what it truly meant to be Greek.

Of course, I discovered that the food was infinitely better – more fresh, more authentic. A farm to table experience in every meal! And yes, the landscape was far more beautiful than anything I had seen captured in photographs. Then there’s the history, the antiquities … all of it beyond comprehension from a Western perspective.

Yet, what struck me in the most profound way was what I observed among traditional Greek family units – in our own extended family and with other native Greeks. For example, children of my generation lived near or above their parents in a multi-story housing unit. Yiayias, Pappous, Theos and Theas all played a role in raising the family’s children. Also, everyone ate meals together. Not in the American way where you half-sit with your nuclear family for 10 minutes discussing the day, but in a more ritualistic way where family gatherings are longer, calmer, more substantive and more present. Seeing the family unit operate this way was a foreign concept to me, and it has stuck with me to this day.

Discovering the Greek family unit, 1998.

There is a vast interconnectedness in the Greek family unit that I did not understand or comprehend before I observed it firsthand in the homeland of my ancestors. Since then, the impact has been profound.

To be clear, I’m not overly idealistic. Most Greek Americans romanticize their homeland – who wouldn’t? – but I’m sure that even in the quietest Greek village, conflict exists. Despite this, I still say there is something special present at the Greek family table that doesn’t exist in full in America – something worth preserving and celebrating always.

To date, I’ve been to Greece at least 10 times. I can say with confidence that the essence of family connectedness there is nothing that my more American culture could never emulate. Still, as a member of the Greek Diaspora and Greek nation at large, I innately treasure the purity of family living, scheduling and togetherness found in Greece.

That trip I took to Greece when I was 29 informed how I raised my own kids later in life. Over the years, my husband and I have done our best to bring them to church, learn how to Greek dance, and learn the Greek language. At home, we made Greek food, observed lent, and celebrated Easter as proud Greeks. All of these things have been significant in helping my sons understand who they are.

It is imperative that we as Diaspora Greeks preserve these elements of deep, rich family values for our children and grandchildren. After all, there is no place like home.