Theodote the Righteous was the mother of Saints Cosmas and Damian, the Holy Unmercenaries. She was a witness to the Orthodox faith even while married to a pagan in Asia Minor sometimes given as Mesopotamia in the saint’s lives. She garnered grace for herself and her two sons by raising them Chrisitan faith after their father died. Having received piety, obedience, and the love of God through her good example (she was often seen praying and reading holy books), they grew up to become famous physicians who healed the sick without asking for a hefty doctor’s bill. They are saints for our times, plagued as they are with HMO mismanagement and lack of health insurance. Their mother Theodote highlights the powerful command motherhood plays to the upbringing of children.
The Craziest Thing that Happened to me in Greece
The craziest thing that happened to me in Greece was when my sister, I, and a few girlfriends were on the party island (Ios, of course) and my friends got wild and crazy. We were animating the dance floor of Disco Bar 69 so much the owners kept treating us to sfinakia. While we were getting down, two guys, who looked completely the same, I thought I was so wasted I was seeing double,( but turned out they were twins,) came up to us and used the usual line, “Eh, where you from?” They were headbangers dressed in black Def Leppard cut up t-shirts and slashed denims from Montenegro, Yugoslavia, holding a green bottle of Heineken in opposite hands.
“New York,” my sister and I shouted. They looked at each other, pulled their weight back, and repeated, “New York?!? Alright!” and did a high-five.
I looked at my sister, shrugged and we said nonchalantly, “Yeah, they’re alright.”
The headbangers (who were alright themselves) turned to each other in a splendid performance of twin synchronicity, looked at each other, pulled their weight back and repeated, “Def Leppard! Alright!”
Then they said something to each other in Yugoslavian. The 1/4 inch taller one turned to me and asked, “Who that is?” pointing the Heine at my sister’s hiney.
“That’s my sister,” I answered. Then again, in a double repeat performance of their act, they looked straight at each other and yelled, “Sisters!” Then at the same time, they looked at us and grunted, “You sisters! We brothers!” Then they butted their beer bottles and yelled, “Alright!” once again and juggled down.
Why not, the one near me said, you sisters, we brothers, then he beat the bottle to his chest and said, “Me” then pointed it to my chest (well-endowed and well-exhibited in my heydey) and said, “You.” He turned to his brother who was smiling this doofist smile beat the bottle against his chest and said, “My brother” then pointed to my sister and said, “Your sister.” He ended the whole proposition by taking a swig down his bottle and saying, “Why not?”
My sister and I looked at each other and simultaneously said, “No way! Good bye”
We started dancing again to lose them in the crowd with our other friends. We were being our wild, maniacal selves and dashed out of the Disco losing the Neanderthals. But , while we were walking the white stucco sidewalk slabs to Sweet Irish Dream, before I could figure out what was happening, I heard a loud “Arrrgggghhh!” behind me followed by “Aye, NEW YORK!”
Before I knew it, I was swooped up by my ass and was riding on the shoulder of (who else?) the elder Neanderthal. “OH MY GOD!” my sister cried and started to run ahead of me, “THE NEANDERTHALS!” But it was too late. She too was swooped up and riding the shoulder of the other Neanderthal. I was screaming and beating the guys back and butt to no avail. To this day, I can’t remember how we escaped them. But I think they put us down in front of the Sweet Irish Dream bar where these Italian guys came to our rescue.
For the rest of our trip we were on the lookout for the Neanderthals who literally picked us up the ancient way.
There were other crazy things that happened that year in Greece, like the time we saw that guy in the Pit Stop bar take off his pants (totally wasted!), we witnessed sex on the beach (not the drink), and I won’t tell you about the time we got kicked out of a gay club in Mykonos because we stripped the stripper of his G-string.
Oh, those were the good days!
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