Most of my life, people have known me as Ellen Morris. However, just like my childhood idol, Wonder Woman, I had another identity. My grandfather’s original name was Efstratios Maleskos. Like so many others, he came to this country as a teenager without knowing anyone just to make a better life for himself. When he went to join the army, he was asked his name. He answered Efstratios Malis (he had shorted the surname himself already) but he was told, “No, you’re John Morris”. What I find most ironic is that Efstratios in Greek is “soldier”. In that one moment our identity was switched from Greek to American. He loved this country and the name, but now two generations later I want to know more about these Maleskos roots and so little is there. His father, Georgios, had also done a similar migration. We are not sure where He came from but have some clues based on the ending of his name, and that my grandfather said he was from Albania. Amazingly, the week I joined Facebook I received another clue in a Friend Request from Greece. A young woman with the name Xrysa Maleskou (the females in Greece end their last names with “ou”) from the region of Epirus. Is this a distant cousin? The name Maleskos is not common at all. I have so many more stories from the other branches of my family tree: A courageous act of kindness from a stranger in Smyrna who saved my maternal grandfather’s life in 1922, tales of loss and survival during Ottoman Occupation, The Great Depression, WWII, and The Greek Civil War. Due to the lack of records, and written family history some the stories on some of the branches fade away quickly. The deep roots I know I have are hidden from view. I already know that so much of who I am comes from the generations before me. I have a deep fascination and appreciation for these roots and wish I could know just a little more.