The T-Shirt Mystery

After visiting Kerameikos Cemetary (see previous post), our friends from Italy and we found a shady table at an outdoor taverna. A sturdy waiter brought us crusty bread, light Greek olive oil, grilled souvlaki, crispy calamari, traditional stuffed peppers and tomatoes, roasted eggplant, and a carafe of smooth local white wine.

At the table next to us, a lively group was enjoying a similar meal. A man in his late fifties whose back was to us wore a t-shirt. with the words "I hiked . . . " The rest was hidden. Where had he hiked? We had fun speculating. Finally he leaned forward, and we glimpsed "the trail." Ah. The location must be on the front of the shirt. It became our mission to find out.

Terry volunteered to glance in his direction on her way to the bathroom, but all she could make out was an unfamiliar name word beginning with K. Amy suggested she take a photo of our table from an angle that would include the t-shirt. But as Terry aimed her camera, trying to fit in our table and the man with the T-shirt, one of his dining companions offered to take a picture of our foursome, thinking that was Terry's intention.

Later, I went to their table, greeted them, and said we were curious about his shirt. The man expanded his chest to show the words Mount Kamakou."Is the highest mountain on Molokai," he beamed. Exactly 4920 feet high, I learned later.

"Well, that's impressive," I said. "Where are you all from?"

"From Belgium," the woman who had taken our photo said.

A little while later as we were leaving the restaurant, I saw the Belgian man near the entrance. We talked for a couple of minutes. He and his wife had been on Molokai helping out at the hospital Father Damien founded for lepers. When I was in the convent, studying to become a Maryknoll Missionary, I remembered learning about this missionary priest's extraordinary service to Hawaii's untouchable outcasts.

"Father Damien was from Belgium!" my new friend exclaimed.

"I didn't know that."

"You must see the movie about his life -- Molokai: The Story of Father Damien. He will become saint soon." His clear blue eyes blazed into mine.

My heart overflowed. Obeying an inner prompting, I rested my hand on his cheek. "Thank you for all the good that you do."

He held my gaze, smiling back at me. "I do what I can."

As we women threaded our way down the narrow cobbled streets away from the restaurant, Mary Oliver's question sang through me: "Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

P.S. Father Damien Day is celebrated throughout Hawaii the same week I met his blue-eyed Belgian champion.

Nancy