In Loving Memory of Xanthula Tripolitis


When Xanthula was a young girl, she was very self-conscious about the size of her feet. She confessed this to her Yiayia Eleni, with whom she was very close. In order to cheer her up, YIayia Eleni took her to the birdcage at the St. Louis Zoo. Once inside, she pointed out the peacock to Xanthula. “What do you see?” asked Yiayia Eleni. Xanthula described the beauty of the bird, noting its magnificent tail feathers. After she had finished, Yiayia Eleni then suggested Xanthula take a look at the peacock’s feet. Peacock feet, if you weren’t familiar, are scaly, brown, and oddly shaped. “You are like a peacock,” Yiayia Eleni said to Xanthula, “Although you may not have pretty feet, everything else about you is so beautiful that no one will ever notice.”

I love this story. I am so thankful that Yiayia Eleni inspired confidence in Xanthula in such a young age, because I believe it laid a foundation that allowed her to grow into the formidable woman she would become.

Xanthula married Theodore Tripolitis in 1947. Theodore, as many of you know, enjoyed working just a little bit. Xanthula stayed at home and raised the couple’s daughter Elaine, whom she had named after her beloved yiayia. As her daughter grew older, Xanthula began to develop many varied interests and passions that would stay with her for the rest of her life.

Her passion for gardening and preservation of natural resources led her to the world of civic duty, and in 1971 she launched a successful campaign to join the Crestwood Board of Alderman. Now, knowing my yiayia, it shouldn’t surprise me that she was anything but successful in her bid for public office. However, as any good government teacher can tell you, the chances of a female with an ethnic last name winning public office in the early 1970s were not great. But win she did, and she would continue to work for her beloved city of Crestwood for decades to come in one capacity or another.

Her commitment to her interests and passions stemmed from her incredible determination. Once Xanthula decided she was going to do something, she didn’t just do it 100%, she did it 200%. She didn’t just run for office for the public recognition, she ran because she decided that something needed to be fixed in her city and she was going to fix it. Anyone who was ever foolish enough to get in her way soon learned that she was not the type of woman to back down once she had decided on a course of action, and it was best for everyone involved if you moved out of her way. I know this from personal experience. After we adopted my sister Anna, we had a family discussion about what her middle name should be. Because I had really wanted a dog and instead gotten a sister, I thought a good consolation prize would be to give her the middle name “Allison.” Needless to say, I was overruled, and my sister has the honor of having the name “Anna Xanthula.”

Growing up, I don’t know that I fully appreciated how exceptional my yiayia was. To me, she was just my yiayia. We would watch “Days of our Lives” together and feed the birds in her garden. Every Sunday Yiayia and Papou would come over for a family dinner, my favorite of which was the incredible spaghetti she would make. I look back on these times and feel blessed to have been able to spend so much time with not only her, but with both of my grandparents.

I had a hard time writing this eulogy. As many of you know, most of my recent memories of my yiayia revolve around the Alzheimer’s she struggled with through the end of her life. However, I was able to recapture many of my memories through watching family videos and looking back on photographs of happier times.

Something else that helped me was finding a note that she had written to me a year after I was born. In it she writes of her love for me, and how much she loves being a yiayia. She also speaks to the future, and I am going to share some of her words with you now.

“I try to guess what interests you will have twenty years from now—I know you are going to be a very good dresser, adorn yourself with lots of yiayia’s beads, love to dance, very sociable, drive a jazzy car, worry about your hair (like your mama), probably have a pleasant singing voice, be very very good in school, probably play the drums (only kidding) maybe do some modeling—and hopefully, if I’m not around—think lovingly of me.”

Yiayia’s predictions for my life are almost 100% accurate (and would be 100% accurate if my mother had allowed me to get that silver Mustang I wanted when I turned 16 instead of the “safer,” and more “practical” Camry). I am so thankful that I got to spend 25 years on this earth with such an incredible woman.

To close, I would like to share one last story. My yiayia was 25, the same age as I am, when she lost her beloved Yiayia Eleni. This was a devastating loss to her, as her loss is to me. One difference, however, is that at the time my yiayia was pregnant with my mother, something she had not yet had the chance to tell Yiayia Eleni. She deeply regretted this, and missed her Yiayia Eleni immensely. However, she got the chance a few weeks later as she lay sleeping when her Yiayia Eleni came to her in a dream. My yiayia always spoke of this dream as if it were a visit from Yiayia Eleni from heaven. I will go to sleep every night hoping for a similar visit, and will, as she predicted 20 years ago, think of lovingly of her forever.


In Memory of Theodore Tripolitis


We are here today to remember the life of Theodore Peter Tripolitis. All of us here today will remember him differently, as he achieved so much over the course of his 90 years.

He was the young son of Greek immigrants; a first generation American. His stubborn nature was apparent early in his life. After wearing a traditional Greek evzone (aka the white skirt soldier uniform) for a church event, Papou refused to face mockery and stares on the bus and instead decided make the five-mile walk home. Growing up during the Great Depression taught him the value of a dollar, the importance of hard work, and his love of baseball.

Some of you may remember him as a young writer and violinist who dreamed of going to college and joining a symphony, only to have those dreams dashed due to the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

Some of you may remember him as a member of the 20th Armored Division in WWII, where as part of the Army Specialized Training Program he served among the best and the brightest of the greatest generation and fought for freedom overseas in France.

He was a husband for 67 years to Xanthula, whom he decided to marry after declaring her the most beautiful Greek girl in St. Louis upon their first meeting. Although she wasn’t originally as enthusiastic as he (she thought he was too skinny) she eventually agreed to marry him when he proposed on the Forest Park Streetcar uttering the words “I’m sick of riding this streetcar to see you; let’s get married.” It was with Xanthula that he gained another title, that of Father, to their daughter Elaine.

Many of you probably have memories of him in a more official capacity—As the founder and longtime owner of Hydra Sponge Company. My papou built this company from nothing, and I don’t think I exaggerate when I say that it was basically a sixth member of our family. Seven days a week, 365 days a year (yes, even on Christmas) he was at the factory. I remember Yiayia saying that if “Wheel of Fortune” ever went off the air he would never come home. But home he did come around 6:30 every day, much to the delight of his two granddaughters.

And it is as Papou that I will remember him. I am thankful he taught me how to play poker, how to whistle, how to tell a great joke and how to root for the St. Louis Cardinals. It is because of him that my family first went to Disney World and stayed at the Grand Floridian. It is from him that I received my writing and musical abilities, and, to my eternal chagrin, my nose. I hope that someday I shall achieve a modicum of what he was able to over his lifetime, and that I’m able to continue his legacy of humor and unfailing generosity.

Now, if you are very lucky, you are the proud owner of a signed copy of his book, “Thought-Provoking and Witty Witticisms from the pen of Ted Tripolitis.” My papou adored the English language and found such great joy in writing and sharing his writing with others, so I think it’s only fitting today to leave you with his own words that I think perfectly describe him: “A great man is not measured by his physical stature—but by the heights he reaches by his achievements!” Papou, you reached such great heights. I love you, and I hope there is a lot of ice cream and apple pie waiting for you in heaven.