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Saturday mornings
in early June are some of my favorite
times of the year. The smell of freshly
cut grass, the buds on trees exploding
expressing their individual personalities
and the echoed crack of a ball hitting
a chunk of hickory, press to mind
the gifts of summer. More recently
Saturday mornings for me have presented
even greater images of my children
that have yielded a pride that the
term “hazo baba” seems
to appropriately fit! On this one
Saturday in June, I found myself walking
through due covered clippings of my
towns mini field of dreams next to
my, up and coming T-ball star with
shades of Normar in his stride. Dressed
in a freshly bleached yet oversized
bill-board (also known as a uniform),
heavily promoting the sponsoring companies
logo, a “hand-me-down”
imitation pleather mitt which encased
his little hand and glistening black
cleats, my son and I strolled over
to meet his team for a riveting contest
of skill, agility, and intrigue…..okay
forgive me fore I embellish just a
wee bit!
After a few choice inquires and advice
from dad, such as, remember swing
straight and swing hard…pay
attention to the ball, concentrate
and of course the most important,
do you need to go potty?... the little
guy dashed over to his coach for the
only advice he will listen to this
day…rightly so I might add!
I stumbled along the first base line
joining the few other dads who lost
the “rock paper scissors”
duel with the wife to determine who
would accompany the little superstars
to the game!
After wrestling
with the collapsible yet portable
“Chair in A Pouch”, I
plopped myself down and released a
hopeful sigh looking forward to a
few moments of rest. The first inning
passed with hits gallour…of
course the T was really the only thing
being hit… they would sprint
the bases like the pros, only to loose
a little steam rounding second with
a slow trot home. Inning two came
and went, and then the cries asking
the dads for water, wanting to know
if it was their turn to bat, and the
all encompassing and in unison wine
of - I’m bored.
At the beginning of inning three,
during the undercurrent of discontent,
something quite ordinary caught my
attention on the ground to my right.
After picking up my camera case that
fell to the ground it revealed a group
of ants beginning to burrow a hole.
On any other day this would have been
unnoticed in fact I probably would
have stepped on the colony totally
unaware of the destruction wiping
away any hope of a lesson I now carry
around with me. I began to focus on
the systematic precision each ant
would engage, each diving in grasping
a grain of sand pulling it back, placing
it on the edge waiting once again
for another turn. The next inning
passed kids stumbled, a knee got scrapped,
and hits continued, and every so often
I would glance down to find a rapid
fire of sand growing beneath hundreds
of ants focused on one thing.
By inning five the mound of sand was
finished and all the ants began crawling
into the new home I suppose to talk
a bit and drink some tsipouro (a.k.a.
- Greek Moonshine). Their new residence
took approximately one hour to build
and there was probably three to four
hundred ants performing the task…I
did notice that there was one ant
shading himself under a blade of grass…I
figured he was the supervisor. Let’s
assume that there was 20,000 grains
of sand, and although they were much
more efficient, it took each ant 1
minute to pull each grain from the
hole. That would take approximately
one hour to complete giving 350 ants.
I began to wonder how long would it
take if there were only 35 ants or
perhaps only 3?
This little ant
colony brought to mind how wonderful
our big colony is at Saint Spyridon.
At this past festival there were hundreds
of big ants of Hellenic back ground
that tirelessly performed the tasked
assigned with smiles, grace and a
wee bit of perspiration. I had the
distinct pleasure to roam around the
festival and snap pictures freezing
some of the amazing stories of love
that our festival brought to Worcester
by all our volunteers. And when asked
if these volunteers needed anything
or if there was anything I can do,
these fantastic people would say “no
and thank you for letting me help
this year”!!!
Our community’s
cup runnth over with talent, generosity
and love. There were those who have
volunteered for every festival, and
for some it was there first. There
were 4 year olds dancing for the first
time, and 80 something’s serving
in the food line. There were runners
that reenacted the marathon and there
were living statues presenting life
of ancient Greece. There were wonderful
tours through our beautiful cathedral
and tasty delectable at every corner!
There was art, music and dance. Ovens
were blazing, bottles were drained
and doves were flying. There was laughter,
new friends made and old ones found
again. These are just a few glimpses
of the spirit of St Spyridon’s
15th bi-annual Grecian Festival.
Three weeks before
June 4th, the parking lot was bare,
the auditorium empty, and the only
signs that a festival was about to
occur were the lawn plaques that dotted
the landscape. Like magic as though
a wizard had passed his wand across
our land the festival was ready for
the first visitor. However it was
not the spell of a wizard but instead
the hard work and big hearts of our
cathedral that made this festival
possible.
There are so many
people to thank unfortunately this
issue of the cathedral news would
require a forklift to delivery to
each home should I thank you all individually.
Therefore on behalf of the parish
council I humbly thank you all for
a very successful festival. Also,
many of you were not able to enjoy
some of the dancing and music at this
year’s festival due to the fact
that you had worked the entire weekend.
Therefore, this year we will be adding
dancing to this year’s appreciation
dinner.
I would like to
make special mention, aside from the
fact that my son’s team won
the t-ball game although no one kept
score and each kid from both teams
ran home…I did want to point
out two individuals fore without their
dedication and devotion to our community
this festival would not have been
possible.
I extend special thanks to Chris Fourkas
and John Rallis. I know all of you
are not surprised.
These young men not only worked tirelessly
during the festival, but the weeks
before and weeks after, found them
daily putting aside their professional
responsibilities and placing our community
first. They are the best examples
of true stewards.
Final Note:
This was my first festival serving
you has president of the council.
I wish to thank each of you personally
for the great joy I have received
from being a part of this wonderful
family. My chest swells with pride
and it has been a sincere pleasure
to see so many of us rally together
arm and arm with love and friendship.
Thank you all!
William Kiritsy
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