Every man who is acutely alive is acutely wrestling with his own soul.
-D.H. Lawrence

When M and I lived on Crete we were part of a circle of friends with whom the “anarchist” priest, Papa Michalis sat at the Taverna. Papa paid for drinks. The men got wine. The women got coca cola. I wished I was a man on the nights that he joined us.

One night Papa asked us if we had children. We said no. This is out of the question for the Greeks. He said “why not?” Rather than explaining that we chose to wait, M replied: We cannot afford it.

The next thing we knew he was firing off orders in greek to Kostos. Kostos had that beautiful sheepish grin on his face as he related: Papa wants M come to his church tomorrow. He wants you become a priest. You can take over his church when he is gone so that you can give your woman a child.”

M declined his proposition. And Papa shook his hand next to his ear. The subject was forever closed.

We often talk about, what we call, Our Decent Proposal. Especially in deep winter as we sit land locked, far from the blue sea that we so love.

More images of Papa’s museum. I love the courtyard.

http://www.kreta-sun.de/umgebung/MuseumAsomatos/Museum-Asomatos.html