I always knew exactly where my family came from. My mother’s family immigrated to the U.S. in December 1960 from the island of Kos, Greece. My father immigrated in the mid-1960’s, also from Kos. What I learned only a few years ago was that my mother’s paternal grandfather had briefly tried out immigration earlier in the 20th century, had worked for a short time in the U.S., but then returned to his village, Kefalos, bringing an “American” prospective husband along for one of his daughters. Greek immigrants had, and perhaps still have, one of the highest rates of sojourning in America, i.e. working for a time, years or even decades, but then, returning to the home country. Even today, many Greek-Americans still dream of retiring to their villages, though some never make it back even for a summer vacation. So, my great-grandfather briefly sojourned in America, returned to his village, raised his children, and then eventually, all five of those children settled in America with their families. Post-World War II Greece was not exactly the easiest place to earn a living. Who could resist the promise of a better life in America, especially when relatives had tested out the waters already?