The Church Bell

Friday, October 28, 2022.  My dad grew up in the small village of Karitsa, way up in the mountains in Greece.  It was still a true village when we visited in the sixties and seventies - no running water in the house, outhouse, and minimal electricity, if I remember right.  I seem to recall a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, but I’m not sure.  Definitely no heating or air conditioning.  This was also before computers, smartphones, etc.  So kids found lots of creative ways to amuse themselves.  The centerpiece of the village was a big church with a large courtyard and a bell tower.  The bell tower was outside of the church proper with a thick, heavy rope hanging down to be rung for services.  One day, my sister and I were playing with the village kids in the courtyard when someone decided we should try to ring the bell.  Unbeknownst to us, this was strictly forbidden.  So all of us kids gathered around, taking turns hanging from the rope and trying to make the bell ring.  We spoke Greek pretty fluently at the time, but I remember not really understanding all that was being said about our little activity… until kids started taking off.  Rita and I were looking around watching children run for the hills and wondering what the problem was when we heard a shout.  I looked behind me and saw a man in a black robe looking really angry and heading our way.  That’s all it took!  I yelled “Run!” and took off hoping she was behind me but too afraid to check.  At that point, it was every man for himself.  I remember ducking behind something - a large rock maybe - and watching that scary man stomping for the bell tower and spewing a torrent of Greek.  I don’t remember what happened after that.  I know we didn’t get caught and eaten alive because we’re both still here.    I thought God would punish us somehow because it seemed we had done a terrible thing at the time based on that man’s reaction.  But no, God just gave me another great adventure - and taught me not to trust those crazy kids anymore!