Guillermo Calvo Mahe

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First communions

Rosario with her children, Billy (me) and Marina on the day of their first communion. Taken at her mother's country home in Manizales, known as El Atardecer.

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With an unknown friend

Somewhere near Manizales, with an unknown friend.

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Mom and her children

Rosario with her three children, Billy, Marina and Teddy, while in Colombia during 1957-8.

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John Landi

About me:I haven't shared any details about myself.

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Lizzie Kunde

My name is Lizzie Kunde and I am the newest member of the AncientFaces Support team! See more info about me here: Lizzie - Community Support and I look forward to getting to know our wonderful members. Feel free to reach out with any questions, happy to help :)
My mom's side of the family is Swedish (and still lives in Sweden) and she instilled in me lots of Swedish heritage and traditions which has made me who I am today. My dad's side of the family is German and Irish and the most likely the side of the family I get all my freckles from. Family is so important, and welcome everyone to discover more about them, their history, and share about their loved ones who make up the history of who we are!

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Lizzie Kunde

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Requiem for Rosario (composed by her son, Bill) shortly after she passed away on June 4, 1990. She had a sad life for one so loved by others. She was an enigma. A perpetual student of everything, she was a poet and an artist; a philosopher and a scientist. She could barely spell and always considered herself ignorant. She never saw the reflection her brilliance cast or realized the impact she had on those who surrounded her. She was not perfect, far from it. She was malicious in an underhanded way, terribly bitter and inwardly angry. But these were the consequence of a timidity in expressing her emotions and opinions which resulted in an implosion of her valid feelings. Feelings and opinions that had they seen the light of day and been shared with those around her, would have garnered her respect she deserved but was afraid to demand. Regardless of her temerity, she was an utterly opinionated person in her areas of deepest interest and, regardless of how educated or qualified the doctor with whom she disagreed, his case was hopeless. She was extremely sensitive. I remember being a child and closing her out of my room because of a perceived injury, only to quickly open the door and comfort her while she cried. She was infatuated with death and longed for it as long as I can remember. An utter oddity when contrasted with her initial spark for life. But the spark was beaten into hiding by the foul favors that life dealt her in her personal life. For some reason, she became involved with flawed men, my father and step father. She seems to have always loved my father, but that love was born in a time I neither knew nor can understand, having myself been victim to both his intellect and charm, and to his apparent indifference. I lost a great deal of my childhood with her to her American adventure. I don't know what impact that separation caused me but I can't imagine a similar separation from my own children. I wish I knew whether it was great courage that led her to leave my sister and me with my grandmother and seek a new world, or merely, the pull of her infatuation with the United States. It is certain that the circuit my sister and I were sent on during her absence broadened my horizons, and led to unusual early experiences, both good and bad. But most of all, that separation and the attendant influence of my grandmother, caused the development of a strange relationship. When I was a child in my grandmother's home, I grew to love my mother like a sister. But no matter, her decisions after she left were based on her feelings for us. Unfortunately, her judgment was clouded, to her great personal detriment. Of late I sometimes feel that our life in the United States was a mistake and that we would have been better off not ever having left my beloved Colombia. But that view is certainly not shared by anyone I know living there. The grass is ever greener. Yet she suffered so much here. So much she would not tell me. Guilt was her frequent companion and she was her most difficult judge. She remembered every slight and wrong she thought she had ever wrought. At least in my case, she was very wrong. She was not a strong mother, but that never really caused me any problems. I sought out my own source of discipline and enjoyed her maternal bounty of love and affection. I believe that the result is a very strong, daring and committed personality, with great difficulty in accepting the possibility of error, not because of pride, but because of an utter hatred for being wrong. She never understood that my brother, sister and I did not take the few instances when she lost her temper as a major impact on our lives, nor that we understood and appreciated that she did the very best she could for us, and loved her for it. Rather, she regretted not having been able to give us what she did not have to give. She was utterly strong. She fought through all but one of the adversities life chose to send her way, and utterly conquered each. A woman alone in a hostile nation, she gave me a first class education. She had incredible mental control, unfortunately, more often that not, used to negatively impact her physical well being, or at least what I thought of as her physical well being. Till the end, I was sure that had she willed it, she could have effected a miraculous cure and lived forever in perpetual youth. I was not always good to her. I rarely wrote and seldom called, always waiting for her approaches, which always came. Yet I hope she knew that she was never far from my thoughts, and that I loved her. I was quick to anger over what I perceived to be her mistakes, wanting, as though I were her parent, for her to always reach her best potential, and pushing her towards the objectives I felt she should want. I hated her preoccupation with diseases and allergies. But she and I agreed that, if they were only figments of her mind, they caused as much pain and bother as if they were of the darkest organic hue. They consumed so much of her energy and time that they became, in a strange way, a fortress to which she could retreat and avoid the expectations, demands and opinions of those around her, even those whom she loved and who loved her dearly. My mother became my child in my mind, and so I loved her as my mother, as my sister and as my child, sometimes not an easy emotional paradox to reconcile. But she understood and accepted. Perhaps she even humored me. I remember that I really began to appreciate and respect her when I was about 25 years old. When I realized how amazing it had been that, somehow or other, she had raised and educated me in a setting designed for the rich and famous, all on a penny and a prayer. She had, when I needed her, set all feelings for herself aside and in a manic burst of energy and determination, wrested what I required, from the world around her. She loved god more than any religious person I ever met, and I hope he has not let her down. But I think she loved me more. Our last long visit together was in North Carolina and was the best of times for us. She was weak, but we all got along so lovingly and well. My son Billy and she became very close, and I hope that he will always remember her. They both loved each other greatly and, in fact, for good and bad, Billy is a reflection of her, a piece of her soul. The last time I spoke to her she told me she would always be here. It’s too soon to tell, or to react. The numbing shock born of her loss protects me still; belief is blissfully not yet here. The longing and missing have barely started.

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Mother

Rosario's mother Juanita, after a trip to Mexico.

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First communions

Rosario with her children, Billy (me) and Marina on the day of their first communion. Taken at her mother's country home in Manizales, known as El Atardecer.

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With an unknown friend

Somewhere near Manizales, with an unknown friend.

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Mom and her children

Rosario with her three children, Billy, Marina and Teddy, while in Colombia during 1957-8.

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Rosal Mahe Jul 9, 1922 - Jun 4, 1990 Jacksonville, North Carolina, United States

Rose Maria Del Rosario De Nuestra Señora De Chiquinquirá Mahé Calvo, Kokkins was born on July 9, 1922 in Bogotá, Bogota Colombia, and died at age 67 years old on June 4, 1990 in Jacksonville, Onslow County, North Carolina United States. Rose Mahé was buried at South Beach in Miami Beach, Miami-Dade County, FL.

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Sad that no one else seems to have memories to share.

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he was my step father Leon's brother, and also had an elder brother John, and a sister, Mary Podis. His father's name was Theodore and his mother's Demetra. I recall that he had a pretty daughter, I think her name may have been Lynn, but it was very long ago. Memories of Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet), writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. He has academic degrees in political science (the Citadel), law (St. John’s University), international legal studies (New York University) and translation and linguistic studies (the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies).

James, Jim and Jimmy Kokkins

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He worked with his mother Demetra and wife Frances, and for a brief period, my mother Rosario, at my grandmother's large beauty salon on Northern Boulevard in Flushing. He was my step father Leon's brother, and had another brother whose name was Jimmy, and a sister, Mary Podis. He had three daughters, Lynn, Deedee (Demetra) and my favorite, on whom I had a crush, Athena. They lived in Commack, NY. We lost contact when his mother passed away and inheritence issues clouded family ties, all too common, something I regret. I wish we could somehow find one another again. Memories shared by Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet), writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. He has academic degrees in political science (the Citadel), law (St. John’s University), international legal studies (New York University) and translation and linguistic studies (the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies).

John Kokkins

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Leon Theodore Kokkins was my step father. I called him "Pop". These are some of my memories of him. I regret no one else seems to remember him. He deserved better. Crumb buns, jelly doughnuts and Kaiser rolls on Sunday mornings along with the NY Daily News and perhaps a ride along the causeway in Miami Beach in our black Pontiac convertible, circa 1949, with the top down (1952 through 1955). Then, on to Charlotte. We had a different car, perhaps a 66 Chevy, but it was not memorable. Charlotte the city, on the other hand, certainly was. I became Billy Kokkins there, long story but it never stuck. In New York, years later, the routine was similar but the car was a blue 1959 Chevy with a sort of split trunk and a hard top. I liked the Pontiac better. Then, … way too soon, everything was gone and we were scattered, barely still a family. Disfunctionality had fast become the norm and we were trend setters. 1973, Pop’s final year. He passed away very young, a beloved enigma. _______ © Guillermo Calvo Mahé; Manizales, 2022; all rights reserved. Please feel free to share with appropriate attribution. Guillermo (“Bill”) Calvo Mahé (a sometime poet) is a writer, political commentator and academic currently residing in the Republic of Colombia (although he has primarily lived in the United States of America of which he is also a citizen). Until 2017 he chaired the political science, government and international relations programs at the Universidad Autónoma de Manizales. He has academic degrees in political science (the Citadel), law (St. John’s University), international legal studies (New York University) and translation and linguistic studies (the University of Florida’s Center for Latin American Studies).

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AncientFaces

This account is shared by Community Support (Kathy Pinna & Daniel Pinna & Lizzie Kunde) so we can quickly answer any questions you might have. Please reach out and message us here if you have any questions, feedback, requests to merge biographies, or just want to say hi!
2020 marks 20 years since the inception of AncientFaces. We are the same team who began this community so long ago. Over the years it feels, at least to us, that our family has expanded to include so many. Thank you!

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John Kokkins Mar 20, 1913 - May 1987 Commack, New York

John Kokkins of Commack, Suffolk County, NY was born on March 20, 1913, and died at age 74 years old in May 1987.

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James T Kokkins Nov 7, 1914 - Mar 28, 1992 North Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

James, Jim And Jimmy T Kokkins of North Myrtle Beach, Horry County, SC was born on November 7, 1914, and died at age 77 years old on March 28, 1992. James, Jim and Jimmy Kokkins was buried at Flushing in Queens County, New York United States.

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Kokkins

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