Dimitrius

Dimitrius moved to Tarpon Springs in 1975.

He's been diving for sponge as long as he can remember. His sponging days are over but he now works on the St. Nicholas Boat Line.

Each day, every hour or so, the boat fills with passengers and goes out for a thirty minute tour. He helps the demonstration diver get ready for the dive each time, expertly dressing him in traditional sponging garb and connecting the underwater breathing source.

After the dive, he sits on the front of the boat as it drifts back towards the dock.

"I have a problem", he tells me.

"What kind of problem?" I ask.

1/3

He stands up, pulling an old black leather wallet out of his back pocket.

Slowly, he sits back down, opening the wallet to a photo of a young man. It's his grandson, Dimitrius Jr., dressed in a black suit and bowtie. It looked like a graduation photo.

"Today is 45 days...I lost my grandson."

He can hardly finish the sentence, handing me the wallet with the picture inside.

"Beautiful boy, too young to go," he says quietly.

He looks out over the water, and then suddenly throws his right hand up to the sky.

He asks why God takes good babies.

We chat for a while, in fragments of English and Greek (on his part).

Working on the St. Nicholas helps him stay busy and distracted, but he tells me not a day goes by where he doesn't cry for his grandson.

We've docked and Dimitrius takes the wallet back. He shakes my hand, takes a deep breath and begins to help passengers off the boat.

On again, off again -- one tour at a time.