ALONG THE PATH -- PLACES: THE JOURNEY OF MY DAYS, MY LIVES by Thaao Penghlis

Read about Thaao's experiences on film, television and stage in his chapter, "Along the Path".

PLACES:  THE JOURNEY OF MY DAYS, MY LIVES -- available for purchase at Amazon.com.

http://www.amazon.com/Places-Journey-My-Days-Lives/dp/1624672566/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1402503564&sr=1-1&keywords=thaao+penghlis

SAVE THE DATES! Thaao Penghlis book events for PLACES

SAVE THE DATES!

Sunday, July 20th, 3 pm -- Thaao will be doing a reading, signing and meet and greet to celebrate the publication of PLACES at Brentwood Country Mart Diesel Bookstore (225 26th Street, Suite 33, Santa Monica).

Sundays, Sept. 14th and 21st -- Thaao will be performing a show focusing on his travels around the world and his book PLACES at the Skylight Theatre Company (1816 1/2 N Vermont Ave, Los Angeles).

CHRISTMAS IN ISRAEL-- Preview from PLACES: THE JOURNEY OF MY DAYS, MY LIVES

PLACES: THE JOURNEY OF MY DAYS, MY LIVES  -- Thaao Penghlis' upcoming book -- is now available for pre-order at Amazon. 

Thaao Penghlis enjoyed tea for two with Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, carried the mythical Gloria Swanson into a Hollywood acting class and fitted Robert Redford for a suit (suggesting the then matinee idol shed a few pounds) before landing defining roles on General Hospital, Days of Our Lives and Mission: Impossible. The former career diplomat pursued the curious and complex path ofan actor's life to fund his unyielding desire for spiritual & exotic travel.  With the fervor of an archeologist and the passion of a seeker, Penghlis takes readers wtih him on spectacular adventures as he crosses Egypt's Sinai Desert, ascends Mt. Moses, is cleansed in a remarkable and shocking ritual in Havana, crashes in a balloon ride over the Valley of the Kings in Luxor and navigates the behind the scenes drama of daytime television, often more sudsy and tumultuous than what appeared on screen.  This compelling and candid memoir weaves his deep Greek and Australian heritage with Hollywood escapades and captivating spiritual journeys to places few travel.

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The following excerpt was originally done as a recording with OutTakes Interviews on 8/28/12.

CHRISTMAS IN ISRAEL

In the summer of 2004,  Palestinian gunmen held captive the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem for 39 days.  Monks were trapped inside the Orthodox Church for the entire ordeal.  The terrorists created a regime of fear and so an American monk and two Palestinians were killed.  It was now Christmas Eve, 2004.  And the tension had died down.

Excited, I arrived at Tel Aviv Airport on my first journey to Israel.

Leaving with my baggage, I was quickly surrounded by four Mossad agents.  Badges flashing, I was spotted as a terrorist again.  I smiled.  They looked threatened.

“Are you carrying drugs?”

“What?”  I said.  “On Christmas Eve?”

Blank.

I cut to the chase, having been through this before.

“I’m an actor.  You probably recognize me from Mission Impossible.  I’ve been invited to do publicity here for the studio.”

Their faces dropped.  Their masks disappeared; and embarrassed they apologized profusely.

It was lovely to see their human side.  I enjoyed the drama.

My destination that evening was to find a guide to take me to Palestinian territory and pray at the spot where Christ was born.  That evening, outside my hotel in Jerusalem, my guide was waiting; and we quickly began our journey.  Trusting the process and feeling I was on God’s path, I went with him in a van across the border into a dark street.  Twenty minutes later, there was another van waiting.  On the path along the way, the phone rang and they were speaking in their own language and then they began flashing their lights.  I got into the next van, introduced myself and by the time a third van appeared, I thought I was being kidnapped.  By this time, a scholar appeared and put me at ease.  Because of that tragic summer incident, it was forbidden to go there without proper connections.

In ten minutes, we approached the square.  In front of me was the Church of the Nativity where the Christ child was born exactly two thousand and four years ago.  Carols were being sung, echoing through the ancient square.  I remembered this was my parents’ dream to be standing here in the center of the Christian world.  They never did make it because of the constant turmoil that exuded from this sacred space.  I was in Palestinian territory on the West Bank and not a woman in sight.

Facing the church with my guide beside me, he explained the three entrances created through the ages; in ancient times, a chariot would charge through it.  Over the time, the door had been diminished to a small opening to where only one person at a time could enter.  In front of it stood nine military soldiers blocking the entrance.  No one was allowed in.  Because of the early uprising, it had become no longer a place of God but a fortress.  The sacred space of prayer was shut.

My guide explained my situation to them, but they kept repeating, “It’s closed.  It’s closed.”

He apologized to me.

“I’m not lucky,” he kept saying.  “I’ve failed you.”

I told him I was not going to give up so easily.

“To come all this way, I will call God in my own way.”

So we had a drink.

I said, “But you’re a Muslim?”

“I don’t care!” he said, frustrated.  “This place is like living in a box.  A reminder of the constant battle with the Israeli government.”

Two scotches later, my bravado rose up.

“Let’s try again,” I said.

“It’s useless.  They will threaten us again,” he responded.

Losing my patience, I replied, “It’s Christmas.  It’s not supposed to happen this way.”

Determined, we went back and approached the guards.  They stood defensively.  The war was not over.

Suddenly the door opened and a Greek monk came out, puffing profusely on his cigarette.  I studied him, thinking God wasn’t talking to him either.  He caught my eye and looked at me.

“Are you Greek?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“From Mission Impossible?”

“Yes,” I replied.

He came charging over to me and hugging me as only Greeks do without apology.

“It gave me so much pleasure while studying theology.   What can I do for you?”

I said, “It’s Christmas Eve.  And I’ve wanted to go inside the Greek Orthodox Church since my childhood; and they won’t let me in.”

“Come with me,” he responded.

He put his arm around me and escorted me to the entrance.

The soldiers took a defensive stance with rifles threatening.

“Is this not a place of God?  Then behave yourselves.  This pilgrim has permission to enter.”

God spoke; and the soldiers parted.

As I bent over to go inside, I turned to my guide who couldn’t believe the change of events.

“You said you were not lucky?”  Luck is when opportunity meets commitment.  Persistence won out.

I followed the Father in and sat at the place of Christ’s birth, the sacred space that thousands had waited to see and take a glimpse of this famous spot of folklore.

I had an hour to myself uninterrupted.  I couldn’t help but be moved when I touched the core of Christ’s birth.  It was no longer a postcard.  I thought of my family and friends and the inner peace that touches within the depths of one’s beliefs.  I just sat reflecting all that had passed my way thanking the universe and feeling like a child again in its beginnings. My pilgrimage had evolved in the most sacred way.

Two years later while sitting in an Athens café, I watched two monks having a drink and a cigarette.  After a few minutes, one of the monks with a heavy bearded  face turned in my direction.

“Do you remember me?”

“No, I’m sorry,” I replied.

“I’m the priest who opened the door to you for The Church of the Nativity two years ago.”

My, what are the odds of that happening in the enormous world we live in!  It was an emotional moment for me.

We both embraced each other like spiritual brothers.

Another coincidence?  Or simply recognizing the signposts of life and knowing you’re on the right track?

A reminder that trust in the process does lead to victory.

These journeys are there for all of us.  The difference lies in the way we see.

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To see more pictures from Thaao's holiday to Israel over Christmas 2003, visit this link at his official website.

PLACES Around the World: An interview with Thaao Penghlis

An interview with Thaao Penghlis (Victor Cassadine, GENERAL HOSPITAL; ex-Tony/Andre Dimera, DAYS OF OUR LIVES) about his upcoming book, PLACES (available for pre-order at Amazon.com ), as well as his travels around the world.

OUTTAKES:  What is PLACES about?  Is it an autobiography?  About your travels?

THAAO:  You reach a stage where as a young man, you are constantly moving forward.  One day you turn around and realize what you’ve accomplished; and you must acknowledge that...what it is that you’ve gone through.  The best way I saw of doing that is that I usually take journeys every year.  I took a journey in my mind last summer; and I began to write about the journeys that I’ve taken in the Middle East, South America and Europe.  I thought I’d do it for myself...but slowly I ended up writing 24 chapters.  It was amazing what I remembered...to tap into the mind after all those years, remembering incidences and expanding on them and reliving them.  Some were not as wonderful as others.  But it was part of what the map was for my life.  By putting these stories out, especially on how one journeys.  I thought it would be great to put in a book where people can see somebody’s point of view, especially when you’re traveling.  The pros and cons of knowledge before you get there.

OUTTAKES:  How was the experience of writing the book for you?

THAAO:  It was really a privilege for me...because when we go through life, you turn around and people die; and they never told you their stories.  They never told you what their fears were, what their appreciations of experiences were.  And that knowledge is gone.  I left Australia at such a young age that when I came to America, it was my first big adventure.  So I looked at life always as an adventure.  Even when I did work as an actor, that was to pay for the adventures.  That’s how I lived my life.  Also I did the same to my family.  I sent my parents overseas six times and brought them to America just so that they could catch up to where I’ve been.  I really enjoyed doing it.  It was not a chore at all.  

OUTTAKES:  What advice would you give to someone who is writing a book?

THAAO:  What I did was I looked at the beginning, the middle and where I’m at now.  I looked at the high points of my youth...the high points of my adult life.  Suddenly I thought...oh wow, yes, I had that experience.  I wrote all of these experiences down as I could remember.  By tapping into one…it’s amazing what the mind does. It opens the door; and another memory suddenly falls down, one that you forgot. So I would do a whole synopsis of all the different things in your life that were exciting...that would be informative.  The obstacles you overcame.  The joys that resulted by going through that tunnel.  In many ways, it’s a wonderful exercise for yourself.  Approach it like your life is worthy.  It is...because you’re here and you’re working it out.  Everybody has a story to tell.  That’s what’s so great about some of the modern media is that people are getting a chance to tell the world, "Listen, this is what I did, even if it doesn’t seem too great".  It may be done through words.  It may be done through photographs.  But in some way, that person felt that that picture changed their lives or meant something to them. 

OUTTAKES:  How did you get interested in archeology?

THAAO:  I think it had to do with when I was in school.  I always topped the class in history.  I could rattle it off.  I could do a whole essay and then rattle it off to the class; and the teacher said I was cheating, but even then I was memorizing things.  Even today with the way my memory served me, all the things that I did in my youth is the foundation with what I’m doing today.  All the art world that I got involved with when I was 21.  The people that crossed my path...who were just extraordinary discoverers that I traveled and sat with -- archeologists.  I always think to myself that I would love to find a treasure.  Even if it was a little bottle.  So I started to climb over fences that I wasn’t allowed to.  I went to the island of Delos in Greece (pictured above) where there is the most uncovered historical architecture in history.  This was a huge port in ancient times that has not been touched. So I climbed the fence; and right away within ten inches of soil, I started finding all of this stuff.  I found pottery; and I found ancient glass; and I found a chain.  I looked at just the discovery in itself.  Holding something in my hand meant something quite extraordinary to me...in the discovery in that it hadn’t been touched in all those years...for hundreds and hundreds of years.  It is the same that I find with acting when it is done well.  When I realize I’ve got the part in me, there’s a revelation there...a euphoria that not many other things in my life have done, apart from my family and the occasional love life that I’ve had that expressed itself and became euphoric.  So that’s why I decided I wanted to be an archeologist.  Then, of course, I got into acting by mistake.  That’s sort of a hobby or an interest.  But now I want to do a show that deals with the discovery and the knowledge that I’ve experienced and unraveling those secrets.  So in some ways, its still paralleling my life, both creative and both discovering what I didn’t know before.

OUTTAKES:  How do you pick where you would like to travel to?

THAAO:  When I finished Mission Impossible in 1991, I remember coming back to LA.  I was reading a newspaper. There was an article on people climbing Mount Sinai where Moses supposedly met God.  I thought "Oh, my god, I thought that was just a movie".  I didn’t really think of the fact that you could go there.  That became the first time I started taking journeys and working them out about what it was that I wanted to do.  When I went across the Sinai desert and then took the camel up to St. Catherine’s Monastery and spent time there; and then climbed it at one o’clock in the morning -- it was the beginning of my adventures.  And I’ve done that again.  I did it twenty years later...but it was just as euphoric as it was before.  When I went to Egypt my first time, I went to a place called Saqqara where they have all the burial sites.  They had just found a new tomb of a nobleman.  My guide, who was quite a scholar and had a lot of influence, said, "Listen, I’ve been invited to go in; and if you like, they’ve just uncovered it".  So I went in as they opened the door of an ancient tomb that was called the Tomb of Mere (pictured above).  When I went in there, I sat in the sand because I wanted to meditate. I felt a really strange attraction to that room.  As I was doing my meditation, I was feeling the sand with my hands.  And out of one hand came up a wonderful necklace full of semi-precious stones...and in the other was a mummified cloth of a jackal.  I put the necklace back because it didn’t belong to me, but I kept the cloth of the jackal.  That was my first discovery as an amateur; and it was unbelievable to the point where I just began to sob.  When I was leaving Saqqara, I realized that maybe if one believes in previous lives that this was a time that I connected to my ancient past.

OUTTAKES:  What is the most amazing place that you have visited?

THAAO:  Last 2010, I followed the Holy Family’s footsteps up from when they escaped from Herod in the 4^th century AD.  I had followed all the places they had hid...all up and down the Nile which today has become monasteries and sacred wells and sacred caves.  I went to all these places; and it was just amazing to be able to sit in a place and think about where I was.  This is where they hid; and the water was still running after two thousand years.  Those things stay with you.  Even when you touch water or you splash it on you or you drink it, there’s something about it that registered something within myself.  Maybe because of my spiritual beliefs.  For me, when something talks to my inner core, then I have to pay attention.  Those things feed me.  So when I would come back to LA, I was so full of discovery that my work became even better because of it...because all of the passion that I had stirred up in myself in these places. When I would go back to Days of Our Lives, the colors of the character would change strictly upon what I did two weeks before that with my travels.

Wadi Rum desert; Jordan

OUTTAKES:  What is the most danger you've been in on your travels?

THAAO:  One of the most dangerous was when I met with my friend from Australia who is Lebanese.  We met in Egypt and went in Lebanon in Beirut -- which was not a great experience because of the traffic and the lack of rules that people drive by.  It was insane.  We went down to a place where the King of Jerusalem, Montferrat, had been assassinated by the Hashashins -- who were the terrorists of their day in the 11^th century.  They were like black belts and assassinated him there on the street.  I wanted to go see where this happened because I was investigating the crusaders, but because of the Israeli war with Hezbollah, there were cluster bombs being dropped in the area. The UN said that we could not go in that area because there were too many bombs.  So when I was at a gas station, I was just getting in a car when suddenly the door opened; and a man came in, pulled me out and put me against the wall.  He said to me, "Are you an Israeli spy?"  The look on that man’s face was with just such hatred.  I said, "No.  I’m Greek."  And then my friend started talking Lebanese to him.  They got into an argument; and my friend stood up to the man.  As he’s doing this, I’m looked around.  There were all these bullet holes in the buildings from the war.  I thought, "Oh, my god, this is going to be one of those stories."  My friend got the man to let me go, but for the next three hours, we were always afraid we may be pulled over because it was Hezbollah territory.  And then we went to go to Shabelle up in the north -- which is their great state.  As we were driving up there, we had machine guns on us all the way up which took two and a half hours.  And I’ve been in certain situations even with Massad agents who thought I was a spy as well.  I don’t know what it is.  It’s all the roles I’ve been playing all my life, I suppose.  I’ve come out looking like an assassin!

Egypt

OUTTAKES:  What attracts you to the Middle East?

THAAO:  In different parts of the world, we have different ways of expressing ourselves and getting information.  When I went to the Middle East is that they are a veiled society.  When you look at their windows, they are all camouflaged.  They are very small tidbits of squares that you can see out of, but you can’t see through.  So they see about you; and we can’t see about them.  So those places always had an air of mystery.  Even when I would sit with the Bedouins in Jordan, there was always a sense of mystery.  When you look at the movie, Lawrence of Arabia, Arabs always had a sense of mystery.  So I suppose it intrigued me; and I had to constantly uncover that mystery.  That’s why I got involved with going to places more than once.  I've been to Egypt ten times; and I've been to Greece and Italy a lot.  I've been to Jordan three times.

OUTTAKES:  Where would you like to go that you haven't been?

THAAO:  China.  I studied Chinese history for three years in my youth, so I know the periods, the history, the pottery and the different states at the time.  Their archeology  is also fascinating because  it has a veil as well.  You can’t read their mind.  That is fascinating.  So that’s where I’d go.  India would be one as well.  Probably China more than any other place.

OUTTAKES:  What is your favorite place that you've traveled to?

THAAO:  Santorini in Greece (pictured above).  You walk along there; and you see the whole ocean.  Two thirds of that island in 1500 BC went under because of what was probably the greatest earthquake known to man...a  volcanic eruption just imploded what’s left.  So when you go along there, there’s an innate sadness in that island.  Someone said, after six weeks, you’ll end up weeping here.  It just permeates the island.  But what a beautiful landscape, it’s just breathtaking.

This interview was previous recorded on Blogtalkradio (OutTakes Interviews; host:  Laurie Baker, 8/28/12).  Audio recording can be heard at link below:

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/outtakes/2012/08/28/thaao-penghlis

Thaao Interview in 6/21/13 Soap Opera Digest

Check out the 6/21/13 Soap Opera Digest for Thaao's interview with Stephanie Sloane:  "Journey To The Unknown."

THE BOOK OF ESTHER

OFFICIAL POSTER

FILM SYNOPSIS

Good battles evil in this timeless story of Biblical heroism.

When Esther becomes King Xerxes' queen, her cousin Mordecai and that despicable Haman engage in a dangerous game of intrigue for control of the young Persian, King Xerxes.

It's not secret that Haman plans to exterminate the Jews, but Haman's plan includes something horrible for Mordecai and his people.  It is up to Mordecai's cousin, Esther, to win the affection of the King, unmask Haman's treachery and save the Jewish people.

Can Esther convince her husband to spare her people - even though she may be putting her own life at risk?

Based upon the book of Esther, this delightful retelling emphasizes the value of courage, faith and obedience.

TWITTER PHOTOS WITH JEN LILLEY (ESTHER)

RELATED LINKS

Official Trailer for THE BOOK OF ESTHER -- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XZ0cTN84Tnw

OutTakes Blogtalkradio with Thaao and Jen Lilley -- http://www.blogtalkradio.com/outtakes/2013/05/31/the-book-of-esther--jen-lilley-and-thaao-penghlis

DVD available at Pure Flix' website -- http://pureflix.christianbook.com/Christian/Books/product?item_no=333018&item_code=WW&netp_id=1121966&event=ESRCG&view=details

THE BOOK OF ESTHER is also available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Walmart and Christian bookstores.

BEHIND THE SCENES

with director David A.R. White and cast member Russell Wolfe

with cast members Robert Miano and Mark Irvingsen

as "Lord Haman"

WHO IS HAMAN?  (WIKIPEDIA)

Haman (Also known as Haman the Agagite המן האגגי, or Haman the evil המן הרשע) is the main antagonist in the Book of Esther, who, according to Old Testament tradition, was a 5th Century BC noble and vizier  of the Persian empire under King Ahasuerus, traditionally identified as Artaxerxes II. As his name indicates, Haman was a descendant of Agag, the king of the Amalekites, a people who were wiped out in certain areas by King Saul and David.

Haman is described as the son of Hammedatha  the Agagite. In the story, Haman and his wife Zerish instigate a plot to kill all of the Jews of ancient Persia. Haman attempts to convince Ahasuerus to order the killing of Mordecai and all the Jews of the lands he ruled. The plot is foiled by Queen Esther, the king's recent wife, who is herself a Jew. Haman is hanged from the gallows that had originally been built to hang Mordechai. The dead bodies of his ten sons Parshandatha, Dalphon, Aspatha, Poratha, Adalia, Aridatha, Parmashta, Arisai, Aridai and Vaizatha (or Vajezatha), are also hanged after they die in battle trying to kill the Jews (Esther 9:5-14).

, and advanced him, and set his seat above all the princes who were with him. And all the king's servants, who were in the king's gate, bowed, and did obeisance to Haman; for the king had so commanded concerning him. But Mordechai did not bow, or do him obeisance. (Esther, 3:1-2)  And when Haman saw that Mordechai did not bow or do him obedience, then Haman was full of wrath. But he disdained to lay hands on Mordechai alone; for they had told him of the people of Mordechai; so that Haman sought to destroy all the Jews who were throughout the whole kingdom of Ahasuerus, the people of Mordechai. (Esther, 3:5-6)

Queen Esther, learning that her people are in danger, risks her own life to spare the Jews living in Ancient Persia.

King Ahasuerus asked Queen Esther, "Who is he? Where is the man who has dared to do such a thing?"  Esther said, "The adversary and enemy is this vile Haman." Then Haman was terrified before the king and queen.  The king got up in a rage, left his wine and went out into the palace garden. But Haman, realizing that the king had already decided his fate, stayed behind to beg Queen Esther for his life.  Just as the king returned from the palace garden to the banquet hall, Haman was falling on the couch where Esther was reclining. The king exclaimed, "Will he even molest the queen while she is with me in the house?"  As soon as the word left the king's mouth, they covered Haman's face.

Then Harbona, one of the eunuchs attending the king, said, "A gallows 50 feet high stands by Haman's house. He had it made for Mordecai, who spoke up to help the king."  The king said, "Hang him on it!"  So they hanged Haman on the gallows he had prepared for Mordecai. Then the king's fury subsided. (Esther, 7:6-10)

or

Then Harbona, one of the king's eunuchs, said, "Haman has set up a sharpened pole that stands seventy-five feet tall in his own courtyard. He intended to use it to impale Mordecai, the man who saved the king from assassination." "Then impale Haman on it!" the king ordered.  So they impaled Haman on the pole he had set up for Mordecai, and the king's anger subsided.

In Rabbinical tradition, Haman is considered an archetype of evil and persecutor of the Jews. Having attempted to exterminate the Jews of Persia, and rendering himself thereby their worst enemy, Haman naturally became the center of many Talmudic legends. Being at one time in extreme want, he sold himself as a slave to Mordechai (Meg. 15a). He was a barber at Kefar Karzum for the space of twenty-two years (ib. 16a). Haman had an idolatrous image embroidered on his garments, so that those who bowed to him at command of the king bowed also to the image (Esth. R. vii.).

Haman was also an astrologer, and when he was about to fix the time for the genocide of the Jews he first cast lots to ascertain which was the most auspicious day of the week for that purpose. Each day, however, proved to be under some influence favorable to the Jews.  He then sought to fix the month, but found that the same was true of each month; thus,  Nisan was favorable to the Jews because of the Passover sacrifice; Iyyar,  because of the small Passover. But when he arrived at Adar  he found that its zodiacal sign was Pisces, and he said, "Now I shall be able to swallow them as fish which swallow one another" (Esth. R. vii.; Targ. Sheni iii.).

Haman had 365 counselors, but the advice of none was so good as that of his wife, Zeresh. She induced Haman to build a gallows for Mordechai, assuring him that this was the only way in which he would be able to prevail over his enemy, for hitherto the just had always been rescued from every other kind of death. As God foresaw that Haman himself would be hanged on the gallows. He asked which tree would volunteer to serve as the instrument of death. Each tree, declaring that it was used for some holy purpose, objected to being soiled by the unclean body of Haman. Only the thorn-tree could find no excuse, and therefore offered itself for a gallows (Esth. R. ix.; Midr. Abba Gorion vii., ed. Buber, Wilna, 1886; in Targum Sheni this is narrated somewhat differently).

Haman's lineage is given in the Targum Sheni as follows: "Haman the son of Hammedatha the Agagite, son of Srach, son of Buza, son of Iphlotas, son of Dyosef, son of Dyosim, son of Prome, son of Ma'dei, son of Bla'akan, son of Intimros, son of Haridom, son of Sh'gar, son of Nigar, son of Farmashta, son of Vayezatha, (son of Agag, son of Sumkei,) son of Amalek, son of the concubine of Eliphaz, firstborn son of Esau". There are apparently several generations omitted between Agan, who was executed by Samuel the prophet in the time of King Saul, and Amalek, who lived several hundred years earlier.

Haman is mentioned by Josephus in his Antiquities of the Jews. Josephus' account of the story is drawn from the Septuagint translation of the Book of Esther and from other Greek and Jewish sources, some no longer extant.

In the LXX, Haman is called a 'Macedonian' by Artaxerxes  (see Esther 16:10). Scholars have had two different explanations for this naming. 1. Macedonian was used to replace the word 'Mede', and emphasises this when he also says that there was no Persian blood in him. (In practice the Persians and the Medes co-ruled an empire, but there was great friction between them.) 2. Another opinion is that Artaxerxes was calling him a Macedonian Spy, due to his insistence on causing civil war within Persia  between the Jews and the Persians.

The Jewish holiday of Purim commemorates the story of the deliverance of the Jews and the defeat of Haman. On that day, the Book of Esther is read publicly and much noise and tumult is raised at every mention of Haman′s name. A special noisemaker called a gragger (in Yiddish; Hamandreyir) is used to express disdain for Haman. Pastry known as Oznei Haman (אזני המן, lit.Ears of Haman) (in Yiddish; Hamentashen) are traditionally eaten on this day.

The name has been equated with the Persian name Omanes recorded by Greek historians. Several etymologies have been proposed for it: It has been associated with the Persian wordHamayun meaning "illustrious". (naming dictionaries typically list it as meaning "magnificent"), or with the sacred drink Haoma. or with the Persian name Vohuman meaning "good thoughts". The 19th century Bible critic Jensen associated it with the Elamite  god  Humban, a view dismissed by later scholars.

Transitions -- a preview chapter of "Stepping Into the Light"

TRANSITIONS

It was the end of summer and the sun was gloriously fading as I landed at the Athens airport in Greece. I had just finished reading ‘Homer’s epic poem, ‘The Odyssey’ on the plane and by the end of that visual saga, I felt I had actually lived through a magical experience of going back to our source. Now I was returning to my ancient home like a Homeric spirit who had come back to the womb after a long absence in a distant land. I had been invited by some Greek producers interested in developing a series based on a lawyer’s true experiences exposing corrupted officials in Europe. I loved the idea of playing a spy and in the language of my ancestors, and for my parents, a dream come true.

Usually I make sure I’m cleaned up before disembarking, because you never know what relative lurks at Greek airports or the occasional photographer looking for a new triumph. On many occasions I had bumped into cousins and the last thing you want them to see is ‘you’ unprepared. Never give them a reason for criticism, a reason expressing that the ‘Statue was chipping’ when they got back home. My life in show business was never letting the public see you, unless it looks like you just jumped out of a television set, or a movie studio. Well not all the time, that wouldn’t be normal. But that was my training and I thought it best that I change in the bathroom before exiting the terminal, as I was going straight to a meeting arranged by my journalist friend, Alkinos Bounias. 

As I exited the plane and stepped down outside of the terminal, a dozen Greek reporters ran at me with Alkinos in tow. Their cameras flashing, microphones stretched out, blurting out passionate questions about Greek affairs like, “What do you have to say about Greece and Macedonia?” All I could think was the last time I looked in the mirror my hair was standing up like ‘Alfalfa,’ and I was still wearing the clothes I slept in and certainly not ready for a close-up. I was caught. Pulling myself together like the part required, I luckily happened to have in my carry-on bag, a book about ‘Vergina,’ a place in ancient Macedonia where Alexander the Great and his father Philip the second had lived. By coincidence I had picked up a copy in the United States as I had become fascinated with Alexander’s beginnings and the places he chose to conquer. ‘How appropriate’ I thought, ‘how bloody lucky.’ Like pulling a rabbit out of a hat, I flashed the book in front of their cameras and calmly replied, “Macedonia is Greek, read History.” The cameras flashed and the journalists went crazy. Forgetting I was wearing overalls I spontaneously played along with the ritual, answering their questions with abandonment. It made the front page and the evening news, and so did my hair. They were impressed that a foreign Greek new more about their history than they did, and an actor no less. I love smashing myths about actors being dumb. God was watching.

with Alkinos Bounias at Meteora, Greece

The next evening a dinner had been set up with a commercial producer and his wife. Alkinos and I arrived early and had a chance to catch up and strategize. He was a respected journalist and had his own afternoon talk show that enhanced his wacky humor, such as when his guests would enter through a refrigerator door and he would interview them from his bed. It was an original setting, where he could be lethal, at times hysterical, and a temperament that could explode through the roof. But we got along well, except when he was chain-smoking cigarettes, the tone would get sharper, and at times illogical. And he was dark featured which made it all the more dramatic. But behind all this façade, Alkinos had a heart of gold; you just had to find a way through.The Mission Impossible series I had starred in the early nineties was such a great success, that Mega channel in Greece had repeated the episodes for years. Because of that, this dinner was set up to discuss my playing a James Bond character in a commercial for Drambouie liquor. We finally all sat together and had a wonderful and expensive dinner. The atmosphere was relaxing and it gave me a chance to discuss the subject in Greek. Everyone seemed delighted. Now all the details of the commercial were put on the table. The action exciting and the product presented in style, we all thought how wonderful the concept was. Then the money budget came up, and what was left for me, as a one- time by out was embarrassing. Alkinos froze, but now the producer and his wife had put on a mask, money does that. I sat there dumbfounded. There was no argument, just a take it or leave it deal. Now I was about to witness business Greek style. Alkinos excused himself for the rest room and went straight to the Maitre d’ that he knew well, and quietly asked him for a favor. After he came back to our table, within ten minutes the waiter arrived and handed the producer the bill. Reluctantly he took the check and Alkinos in a manner fit for a King elegantly said, “Thank you so much, me next time.” The producer was not happy, firstly dismissing his offer and now he was left with a hefty bill. We made small talk as there was no deal happening not even a toast to Drambouie, and so we departed with my friend’s actions giving us the upper hand. Even though it was a disappointment, Alkinos finished it off in Greek style, “Next” he said, “tomorrow we see producer Leana Patera for a film and then Saturday evening the head of Mega channel wants to take you to dinner to discuss a series called ‘The Red Stamp.” We were moving forward.

The next day we visited Patera in her office that lay below the ancient Acropolis. She was a respected producer that survived in a male dominant society. Leana was an attractive fair headed woman in her mid forties, and very professional. The story she was producing was being written presently, taking place during the Second World War in Turkey where the protagonist was being held prisoner. She wanted her sister who was an actress, to play my love interest. Also by meeting me, she could have the writer incorporate her observations of my personality into the character. Animatedly, she told us the war story with passion, besides “Greeks love tragedy” Patera explained, “ And why not, we invented it.” We shared ideas about how it would end and then the question of salary came up. Again we were shocked. “That is insulting” Alkinos responded. He explained my popularity in Greece and the fact that “Thaao is International.” He played it well and I laughed out of embarrassment as in the US, deals are made without the actor present. She explained her predicament with the budget but Alkinos passed. 

Corinthian Canal

Besides he told her, “We have great interest from Mega channel. On Saturday they have invited us out to dinner.” This piqued her interest but Alkinos was reluctant to go into details. Another meeting fell through because the offers made, were cheap. We were not about to start at the bottom. I thanked her and wished her well on the film, but her expression revealed suppressed anger, but I smiled and we parted. “Next meeting” I told Alkinos, “Issues on salary are not to be discussed in front of me, it makes me uncomfortable, and it’s unprofessional.” He agreed. 

Lion's Gate, Mycenae

It was early Friday morning and I wanted to change the atmosphere by visiting what I loved most; an ancient historic place that spoke back to me. As I had adventured into Troy and read many books on the subject, I wanted to see the city of Mycenae, where the archaeologist ‘Heinrich Schliemann’ discovered the Royal Shaft Tombs of Greek Kings and warriors of the Trojan War. It all began there, and took the Greeks ten years and many lives to destroy their Trojan enemy. He first discovered Troy in the 1870’s because of his unshakeable belief in the words of Homer, whose poems were a map to finding Troy. He did it in the same way when he uncovered the Citadel of Mycenae and Tyrins, completing the circle of all those involved in the Great War, and by doing so opened up a New World of Archaeology. The world was paying attention. What a treasure he found, including golden death masks, weaponry and even the preserved remains of kings that disintegrated before his eyes. It’s a great history and I was grateful and contented that I had read Homer’s books on the ‘Iliad’ and the ‘Odyssey’ before coming here. It only took a year. Now I was prepared to witness it for myself just as I did Troy.

Early the next morning I hired a driver to pick me up and take me to the Northeast part of the Peloponnese in Argolis, two hours outside of Athens. It was a beautiful ride through pine forests on rocky landscapes passing through the amazing Corinthian canal, which separates mainland Greece with the Peloponnese and is called the ‘Isthmus.’ It was an idea and dream that started back over 2000 years ago and completed in the 19th century. This narrow canal was created so that ships saved several days of sailing around the Peloponnesian landscape. It was a marvel of construction. Now we continued on to Mycenae and into the world of Homer’s myths.

Mycenae was the center of power in the Late Bronze Age (1600-1100 BC). I could see this as I walked along the path of ruins, with the Lion’s Gate standing in front of me as it had for thousands of years. Two Lions sculptured into ancient stone, stood on top of its entrance. The monolithic stoned walls dominated the setting. What phenomenal memories of history must have been absorbed in those walls? Its culture was the source of epics and legends, the labors of Hercules, the Trojan War, and Agamemnon’s tragic life and death; their stories legendary. And now it all appeared calm. As I entered through the gate I could see the excavated ruins that Schliemann and his Greek wife ‘Sophia” had discovered on top of the rocky hill protected by these Cyclopean walls.

Gold Mask of Agamemnon, Mycenae

I explored the hill and landed in one of the Bronze Age burial sights. I lay down where Agamemnon may have been buried in a great ritual, filled with treasures fit for the great warrior and King. When Schliemann discovered this as the Tomb of Agamemnon with his golden mask and weapons of great artistry, he proclaimed this as the Greek King himself, who led Greece with a thousand ships to Troy. But after Schliemann’s death it was discovered it belonged to another age, five hundred years earlier. At one point the bodies uncovered kept disintegrating into dust. Learning from this Schliemann brought some lacquer and sprayed the last body with it. Miraculously it held together. The villagers when hearing about this carried the royal soldier through the town in respect of who he was in their long history. I thought it an interesting story, so when I had gone back to the archaeological museum in Athens I asked “What happened to the body?” the officials had no idea what I was talking about. I loved Schliemann’s story even though in his day they called him a dreamer, a man who improvised on history, a liar, a fraud and brilliant. Whatever he was, he did make a difference. Because the Greek officials denied him a wing in the museum acknowledging his finds, he swept out the Trojan treasure and donated it to Germany, his country of birth. During the Second World War the treasure disappeared. But fifty years later it turned up in the basement of the Pushkin Museum in Russia by two curators, ‘Akinsha and Koslov.’ They brought it to the world’s attention along with millions of other pieces of art, regarded as war booty. The Russians had no choice but to put it on display in 1994 with Greece, Turkey and Germany demanding its treasure back.

But the Russians have so far ignored their demands, and why not? The treasure’s worth is about two billion dollars today, whereas the Mycenaean haul has remained in Athens. Those haunting golden masks are so alive and so beautifully executed during the zenith of the Mycenaean Culture. I walked around in the hot sun and looked for some overlooked treasure waiting for me to find. I didn’t have to own it; the discovery was the prize. Searching among the ruins I found many pieces of pottery, felt them, talked to them and left them where they landed. What Schliemann must have felt uncovering all these jewels that had waited for him to discover.  One can only dream. 

Argos Plain, Mycenae

It was a great day going through the beehive shaped tombs and all the Citadels overlooking the Mycenaean landscape while taking a sandwich break, thinking how archaeologists had worked on their puzzles, putting all their pieces together. But to the average visitor the walls remained silent and what an eerie silence it was. It is left to one’s imagination what tragedies unfolded here, where in theheart of the palace, Agamemnon was murdered by his wife Clytemnestra and her lover after he returned victorious from the Trojan War. What’s left are just the grey ruins scarred for eons by the weather.  

with Alkinos celebrating, Athens

It was time to go back to Athens and have an early night, rested for tomorrow night’s dinner with Mega channel. I always liked to fill my mind and spirit with great history, before work or taking meetings, for that always fed my passion to excel. 

At 7.30 on Saturday evening Alkinos and I met with our group of professionals at a wonderful new restaurant in Athens. There were ten of us, with me sitting at the head of the table and Mega channels bigwig, ‘George Andreas,’ directly opposite. In his beautiful suit Andreas was an imposing man, bald, rich and in his mid sixties. On my left was an ordinary but highly intelligent man wearing heavy glasses, whose character I was to portray in ‘The Red Stamp,’ and was he fascinating, a lawyer challenging European Democracies with a strong pen, exposing their clandestine cover-ups, whilst he lived the life of a Spy. He loved Mission Impossible and he was thrilled I would portray him in the series, mostly because we spoke the same language. He thought of us as old friends. The rest were publicity people, their wives and a couple of producers. Alkinos sat next to the bigwig, so he could draw out as much information from him about the impending deal and when the series would be shot. But during dinner Mr. Andreas out of nowhere and in an imperious tone asked me “How much money are we looking at?” A little surprised after my previous meetings, I responded “I don’t discuss money over the dinner table.” “Well just give me a clue,” he said. “No” I retorted. The table was silent for the first time. We just stared at each other. Breaking the tension I said, “You remind me of my uncle.” “Did you love your uncle?” he asked. “No,” I said. Not everyone was laughing. 

At that moment the producer ‘Patera’ crashed the dinner party. She came straight up to me with a beautifully wrapped gift and kissed me on both cheeks. “Hmm,” I thought, “Greeks bearing gifts. What was she up to?” She greeted everyone at the table and like Judas, kissed Mr. Andreas on both cheeks as well, and whispered something in his ear and left, like a ghost. Alkinos looked at me and then stared off after Patera suspiciously. George Andreas perturbed, stared at me for a moment and said “I thought you were making your debut in Greece with us? Patera just told me she got you first and got you cheap.” I was shocked and insulted, but I held back my anger. For the first time I finally understood the meaning of ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.’ Its origin took place during the Trojan War, when the famous wooden horse filled with Greek warriors, created by the crafty Ulysses, was presented to the enemy as a parting gift. By accepting and bringing it into its sacred grounds, Troy was destroyed by fire and Greece had its glory. Alkinos jumped in proclaiming it was a lie and then looked at me wondering, if I had made a secret deal with Patera behind his back. I looked at the big honcho right in the eye and said, “Alkinos is correct. But let me be truthful here, the past few days I have experienced how you do business here. I’m not impressed and I don’t come cheap. Doing this series will not change my career. I wanted to do something Greek for my parents. But I want to thank you and everyone for dinner but it’s time for me to go.” I shook hands and parted. They all objected in vain. Two hours later Alkinos was screaming on the phone, accusing me of betraying him, after all he had done. I never forgot that experience and that gift, which was a beautiful gold clock. It has remained in my closet to always remind me how distrustful people can be, with those kisses and that empty smile always on their face.

My father's parents and sisters

That night I didn’t sleep well considering, but I had a dream in the early morning that changed my life. I woke up in a sweat, feeling that something was wrong with my family, specifically my mother. In my dream she was climbing a stairway and her mother who had passed, was reaching out for her. I called Australia right away and found out that her cancer had come back and she was given only months to live. I sobbed for hours. I didn’t answer the phone, as it kept ringing; I was not interested in playing those games anymore. My trip home to Greece turned out to be hardly Homeric.  Something more important was calling and I had to get back before my mother made her transition. I packed and left on the next plane to Sydney. Except for Alkinos, my path never crossed with those Greeks again, even though they kept calling, trying to seduce me with new ideas. The bad taste that was left lasted a long time, and it took many years for me to return.

with my parents at their house in Sydney

I arrived in Sydney where my brother picked me up and drove me straight to the hospital. She had lost so much weight and my father who was not known as an affectionate man, was beside himself. He belonged to that Victorian era where men remained reserved and emotions held tight. My sisters Connie and Pauline arrived and we stayed close to each other for strength. The whole family loved her dearly. Mother always had a sense of humor but thelife she had lived with my father was difficult, as Greek men didn’t always respond to their partner’s needs. Being her first born son, she brushed my father aside, and I always believed he resented me for that. That’s why through the years she always worried about me, being away from her in America; my father in his temperamental tantrums blamed me for her cancer because of my long absence. But now we were all together and she was in great need. I sat massaging her feet and hands and told her of my experiences in Greece and she had a chance to laugh, calling them all “A bunch of crooks.” I held her as long as I could until the doctor came in to check her condition. I think the new drugs were not responding and her lungs were filling up with fluid, and that was not a good sign. The relatives were sitting in the waiting room, all looking sad. In life they should have spent more time with her, but they never heard her call.

My brother and sister visiting me in Los Angeles

The next day I went to a furniture store and bought her a new bedroom suite. I told my siblings that when she got out of the hospital, she had something to look forward to. They all loved the idea. We gave the old furniture to goodwill and when the new furniture arrived my father became emotional. That was a rare experience; he had a heart after all. I went back to see my mother as I wanted some time alone with her in case she passed. The expression on my relative’s faces was ‘they could see the end coming.’ I wanted to lift up her spirits and have her feel that death was not a closed door, that she had things to look forward to, like seeing America and Greece again. She smiled always when she saw me, especially when I brought her papayas and healthy salads and soup. The chemotherapy was cutting down her appetite and her cancer was spreading. After I told her about her new bedroom suite, she glowed. I described it in detail knowing her spirits would stay elevated. I spoke of my latest journey to the Middle East and she always would have the same response, “Aren’t you ever afraid?” I would always laugh afterwards. She loved hearing about the spiritual places, because her ‘God beliefs’ are what she held onto. When I told her about lighting candles in her name, in Sacred Places where the Holy Family passed through, or in Jerusalem at the spot where the Christ was born, her eyes would light up and tear. Faith had its connection there, and through me, she found a link.

with my parents at Universal Studios

Later that afternoon, the doctor took me aside and kindly told me they had done all they could. “What did that mean?” I asked. “Well I think she would be more comfortable in a Hospice now” he replied. When he left I asked myself, “Isn’t that a place where people go to die?” Concerned and still in denial, I said goodbye to Mother as there were some relatives waiting to see her. As I was leaving my cell phone rang. It was my older sister Connie telling me that my father had a heart attack and he was in another hospital in the Eastern suburbs. I caught a cab and rushed to see him. My family was already there with expressions like “What is happening to us?” As I walked in to see him, his voice could be heard,telling the nurses who his son was. I slowly went in and fromhis bed he pointed with pride, “That’s my son.” How time heals. He was glowing at the nurses, and they smiled back at him with joy.

They explained quietly to me that he had a mild heart attack and he would have to remain in hospital for just a few more days for observation. Of course he asked about mother and the thought of her leaving began to wear on him. After sixty years of marriage perseverance had won through, and so had love. It was a wonderful exchange we had and he thanked me for sending them overseas so many times; and my work had enriched both of their lives. “Let the past go,” I thought, “after twenty years of spiritual counseling about mental and physical abuse, it was forgiveness that let all that baggage go.” We embraced and he assured me he would be fine, but not to tell my mother as she had too much on her plate. I told him that I was leaving in a couple of days because of work but that I would return as soon as I could. As I was leaving, he asked, “How did you know your mother was ill?” “I saw her in a dream with Grandma, waiting for her” I replied. “God must be talking to you? That’s good, maybe it’s a blessing?” he responded. I looked at him carefully and I smiled. The look of regret was on his face. Without doubt, he allowed himself to really see me for the first time. 

I noticed that my female relations waiting in the hall, all looked defeated, as if the paths chosen for them didn’t quite parallel the journeys they came in to fulfill. Male dominance and the quiet power of mothers, didn’t allow them to finish their education because a woman’s purpose was to marry and help raise their children. By the look on their faces, love was not permeating through their lives, as if they asked themselves the question, “This is it?” And sometimes I caught them looking in my direction with a critical eye, wondering ‘how I got away and did it on my own.’ I suppose I was an enigma to them; I was the first Greek male in his youth who left his family in Australia and succeeded without them, against their judgments and dismissals. “He left a failure, he’ll come back a failure,” one of them said.My immediate family had to deal with it until I proved all of them wrong. The wait was long as it was not an overnight success.

with Mum and siblings in Sydney

I returned to my mother, knowing that none of us had any intention of letting her know about father’s condition. An ambulance was to pick her up and take her to the hospice. As they were carrying her out, she looked at me and said, but always in Greek, “Are you riding along with me? “Well of course,” I said as I held her hand. We drove off and I will never forget that expression in her eyes; that she felt safe at that moment.That lovely face looked haunted as a result of that disease. Fifteen minutes later she lay in a hospice room, wondering what was next. “Why hasn’t your father come to see me?” I covered my emotions and told her ‘he thought it best to stay home, as too many visitors would tire her out.’ She accepted it and I excused myself go the bathroom. When I was returning, a nurse was carrying a tray with ice cream into my mother’s room. I pulled her aside and to explain that ‘ice cream was not to be given to patients with my mother’s disease as it fed the cancer.’ She bluntly replied, “Your mother has tendays to live. Let her enjoy her last moments.” Stunned, I was lost for words; nobody had even bothered to convey that to me. I sat with my mother for another hour as I watched her eat the ice cream. I told her quietly that I had to leave that evening, as I had to be on set in two days. She touched my face lovingly, “Thank you for coming from so far away. My little boy, who had pennies in his pocket and grew up to be rich.” “I will see you soon Mama, please wait?” We held each other for a while and I kissed her good-bye. I prayed that this was not our last time together. I cried all the way home. Late that afternoon I sat with my brother and sisters exchanging ideas on how to proceed in case our parents died.

My brother George was a schoolteacher, and a good one at that, happily married to Helen with two wonderful sons. My sisters were great but part of the old regime never allowed them to have their own careers, especially when they both excelled at school. With marriages arranged they certainly had reasons for regret. But their husbands, part of the old school, reflected the same beliefs. Certainly the doubts were there, always reminding me that I was a man and therefore free to make my own decisions. If only they knew what it took, the struggle I went through to survive New York and Hollywood, as an Australian Greek with a strange accent. It took a while for all of it to come together, and as a wise man told me “Perseverance wins out.” Then the front door opened and there was my father standing with open arms to say goodbye.He didn’t want to miss that opportunity.We gasped,and he told us that he lethimself out of the hospital, as he was feeling fine. I kissed him on both cheeks and scolded him for his careless action. He dismissed it and I spent my last hour in Sydney talking about our mother without telling him what the nurse had revealed. He looked concerned that she would leave him behind. It was interesting to see whathappens when you get older and death is facing you and how you handle the inevitable. He again told me how he loved the new bedroom and how our mother would be sitting up proudly, like a queen. He couldn’t wait for her to see it. I hugged him and my siblings and as I turned back I remembered thinking ‘I should have held onto him a little longer.’My parents’ wedding

My parents' wedding

It was difficult leaving them behind, but my plane took off for the US and I had plenty of time to think of all that had transpired; the Machiavellian Greeks and the beauty of their history, but now that all seemed unimportant in contrast with those human elements that we were all experiencing. The loss of your parents happens but once and now it was our turn to face this common tragedy. I got back and quickly immersed myself into the work. Yet every time a scene ended, my mind kept flashing back to the family in Australia. But once back in the performance, I learnt not to waste those emotions that kept surfacing, by filtering them through the dialogue, and finding a creative way of releasing them. 

That evening I got a call from my sister Connie; dad had a massive heart attack and was in serious condition in the hospital. Within the next hour my other sister Pauline called to say he had passed away.She had gone into his house and witnessed the moment he had the heart attack. It was massive, and it threw him against the wall where he suffered a bad gash on his forehead. “At least he wasn’t alone,” I said. The inevitable had taken place. “At the end of the week I will be back home. Make sure mum doesn’t find out.” I hung up and I let out a howl and found myself slipping onto the kitchen floor where I sat for two hours. My mind kept racing, mainly concerned for my mum, but the way in which my father died so violently, upset me deeply. Did he let himself out of the hospital because he wanted to say goodbye to his children, standing on two feet, whole, that he knew his time was coming? But what of his wife Eva, how did he finish that? It was not over.  

My mother and my Uncle Bill in 1930's Sydney

For the next four days I checked my service to make sure the family was holding together, and thought how difficult it must have been for them to be in our mother’s presence and not reveal father’s passing. That last day before I left work, I checked my messages, but there were none. Within that half hour of getting home they had called. The message was: ‘Mother died quietly, never knowing her husband had passed away.’ I was numb. But something strange had taken place. While my sister Connie was giving my mother some water, she commented that it tasted bitter. As my sister turned to get her something else to drink she heard my mother call out, “Agapitos.” That was the Greek name for Peter. Connie turned and found my mother looking up at the ceiling with her eyes wide open; she had passed on, and my father had come to take her with him. Those next fourteen hours of flying back to Sydney were the longest I had ever known. We were to bury both of our parents together.

My brother had met me at the airport and we went straight to his house where the rest of the family was waiting. As soon as I embraced my sisters, whatever emotions were held back, had surfaced. Everyone broke down. That night we went to a common ritual, before the church service and burial, where our parents were put on display so the families could come by and pay their last respects. It was still an unbelievable and solemn ceremony to go through. After having lost so much weight, my mother’s face had been stuffed to give her a better appearance. The make-up was overdone and I hardly recognized her face. So still, I wanted to cry out but I thought of Patera’s comment in Greece, “Greeks love tragedy, and why not, they invented it.” Suddenly some humor came to the surface, I was not about to fulfill that cliché. My father was ice cold when I kissed him, the scar caused by the hard fall, was still prominent on his forehead. It was the evidence of how he died that late afternoon in February. Everyone including my relatives took turn in their final goodbyes, muttering their personal words, bringing a final comfort for themselves. It was the last time we would see them again. I thought maybe they left together to prepare a life for us on the other side when it came time for our transitions. But now I kept asking myself, ‘With their souls carrying them to the other side, where do they go?’ A couple of months later I found out.

The day of the funeral my favorite Uncle Bill grabbed the cigarette out of my mouth and tossed it to the ground, stamping it out, and cried, “That disease is what’s killing all of us.” Before I could respond two hearses arrived together in front of my parent’s house. That visual has stayed with me my entire adult life. It was so shocking a reality that I had to be excused. The church service was packed with friends and relatives. I don’t remember much except the two coffins were closed, immersed in flowers, and the sermon by the priest where he said, “Their unusual love was the reason they left together.” I think my father died first because he was afraid to be left alone. She was exhausted and it was her heart that finally gave out before the cancer killed her. The people came up to the front of the church to pay their respects. I shook a lot of hands, as did my brother and sisters. While I was waiting outside the church a cousin came up to give his condolences at the same time telling me about his struggles and how ten thousand dollars would help him out. At that moment my brother interrupted us. I looked at my cousin straight in the eye and said, “The reason you’re struggling is because your timing sucks. You don’t listen.” We left him to ponder his inappropriate behavior. We carried the coffins into the hearse, and left for the final ceremony at Botany Bay cemetery.

Standing beside a large hole, the priest said his final sermon. The ritual of lowering them down on top of each other, and the soil being shoveled in with a thud, sealed their final outcome. I was the last to leave. I struggled to tell them stories I couldn’t even remember now. There was no euphoria of going to a better place; just a new sense of knowing that only comes to you after your parents have gone. I was now in the front line of life, no buffering, just death facing ‘you’ for the first time. It’s life and everyone goes through it when his or her time comes. The relatives came back to my parent’s house and ate with us as a celebration of their life together.

Three days later I had to leave as new scenes were being written into the show I had just left. I was expected to be on set that next Monday. I said my goodbyes, leaving everyone to quietly persevere with their own pain and eventual healing. In the years that followed I would still reach for the phone to call my parents when good news had crossed my path. But that was just one of many things that happened that automatically recalled my parents. Television shows, especially ones dealing with a son’s relationship to father and mother brought on the floodgates. Work went well, when suddenly my producer called me into his office to tell me my character was being killed off. I actually laughed, remembering somewhere, that the two worse things to happen to anyone is the loss of your parents and losing your job. I got both within two months. What else could I do? My producer was perplexed by my attitude and I wasn’t about to give them the expected response, of an actor defeated. I left feeling free with no obligations except to find a professional person who could give me an answer to my question, “Where did my parents go?”

I eventually found a man called Ray Lingini who was capable of reaching those who had crossed over. He was an Italian from New Jersey in his late thirties. One afternoon I sat with him in a guesthouse in Hollywood, where he began a foreign sounding chant. On the table that separated us was a bottle of rum, some beads and a cigar. ‘Interesting recipe’ I thought. His body started to shake and a deep voice of a female spirit came through. He took the rum into his mouth and sprayed it all around me. He did this a number of times to clear the negatives. Then in a female manner lit the cigar and out came this roar. “Who are Eva and Peter? Before I could answer she responded in a Jamaican accent. I went totally quiet. “They are on the other side. Your mother went through a lot of pain and is exhausted. Who is Maria, because she is holding your mother in her arms to comfort her?” Maria was my mother’s sister who had died a year before from Leukemia. I couldn’t say anything because my emotions began to erupt. She continued, “Peter is sitting on a bench looking very sad because he did not support his son through his youth and now he is grounded, somewhere between here and the spiritual world. In order to make his transition, he needs you to wear his ring, and that way he can connect and guide you in the coming years. It’s for you to help him pay the price for not having fulfilled his destiny. He apologizes and loves you very much.”  It all made so much sense. I was happy to understand and know that we all have another place to go to. That death is just a transition where the soul is able to go back and exist in peace with its lessons learned, and that ‘Karma’ is a law that comes at a price. I felt sad for my father’s lonely place but elated that my mother was safe. I left content that I had been guided to the right place. The amazing thing was he actually knew their names and that gave me a strange satisfaction. I called my family and told them of my experience. It brought them some peace of mind maybe believing that life was an ongoing process that didn’t end in a coffin.

My brother sent me my father’s ring and I haven’t taken it off since. I sometimes find myself unconsciously touching it, and wonder if he is around me, fulfilling his Karma? For three years I did not work. I felt it was so stupid this game of disguise that was my profession for the past thirty years. You see my success was based on rescuing my parents and seeking their approval for having abandoned them in my early life. It was always for them but never for me. Now I was faced with looking finally at myself. I felt pregnant but empty. I was full with knowledge but an emptiness of not knowing where to put it. It took a few years to fully process this, to do it for my own understanding. It came through when I was ready. The day I awoke was the day I was asked to come back to the show where my character had been killed off, after my parent’s death. These were the transitions I had to go through to have a better understanding of change. And when I procrastinated out of fear, when I couldn’t see what was around the corner I learnt that the only thing served was opportunities assassin. 

I finally went back and boarded another train knowing I was back on track to fulfill my last renaissance.

© Thaao Penghlis. Copyright 2012. All Rights Reserved.