I woke the day of the baptism with a ghastly feeling. I knew the day would come sooner or later, but I put that in the back of my head until it hit me hard like a hangover. I rose to the refreshing morning sun of Greece as I had for the last two months, only today was the big day. In Greece it is an honor to baptize somebody's child. It is a symbol of respect and trust. However, I only learned those things after I had baptized the 6-year-old boy I had never before met.

His name is Sophecles. I wondered why I was chosen to be the Godfather. Having grown up American I questioned if I was suitable for the job. I was at the time, and still am, very influenced by American culture. The newest and freshest culture, some say. But Greek culture is one of the oldest and most respected. It is hard to find a common ground between the two. In Greece traditions are respected, as is the older generation. There, family and religion are focal points of life, while in America those aspects of life, although still important, seem to be fading away. My father grew up in a very old village with very old traditions. His village did not feel the heat or see by the light of electricity until the 1960s. It was there that I was baptized almost 20 years earlier. In contrast, I was raised with heat and air-conditioning, something that still hasn't really caught on everywhere in Greece. I had the advantage of modern electronics and medicine. The line that divides my childhood and that of my fathers and family's in Greece, is a very thick one. However, now Greece too has almost become completely submerged in American culture. The next generation of Greeks are now sporting Nike and Tommy Hilfiger.

But in some places in Greece, mostly islands, you can still find ancient customs and culture very much alive. The people on the island of Crete, where my father resides, still adhere to those old traditions. It has taken me a long time trying to marry my American and Greek cultures. It has become much easier because of the rapid changes in Greece, but I still feel an inner-strain sometimes. Sometimes when I am in Greece I want to speak English so I can be understood more and sometimes, while in America, I want to speak Greek so no one can understand what I am saying. The problem always seems to be that I have no one in Greece to really speak English to and in America I have no one to speak Greek to.

Upon arriving on Crete I was told by my father that I would be baptizing his friend's son. He had told me that Sophecles father had asked him for me to be the Godfather. To this day I don't know why. It was something that really went in one ear and out the other. I didn't want to do it. I was scared. I have been visiting the island during the summer months, almost yearly since birth and had finally begun to recognize the importance of being Greek. The baptism would be a true test of that recognition. Not only was I expected to speak Greek in front of many people, something that scares me to this day, but I also had to perform certain customs throughout the ceremony, I was told. Religion is very important in Greece and a baptism allows one to become a Christian in the eyes of the church and of God. At the time I did not know this, but a baptism is the bestowing of a name.

My father took care of choosing a baptismal name and I took care of the baptizing. Baptisms are an ancient ritual in which the priest calls on the Godparent to be a guardian over the baptized. The Godparent is required to repeat prayers after the priest, meant to protect the child. The child is then considered a Christian when his nude body is emerged in a mixture of water and oil. After that his intellect, senses, affections and actions are all dedicated and blessed by the Godparent.

I tried to muster something nice to wear, but soon realized that I had only packed clothes for lounging on the beach or visiting the local night clubs by my fathers house. Things that I was used to doing in Greece. I found a casual blue button down shirt and paired it with some white pants I found at the bottom of my bag. I looked like a tourist and here I was going to baptize Sophecles. It was a pitiful feeling. I knew, however, that the experience would be something I would never forget, so I tried to turn my pitiful feeling into a more positive and proud one. The day started slow. We gathered together with me, my cousin Maria, my cousin Marco and my father in one car. We were followed by my two sisters, Maria and Alexi, my mother and my friend Jeff in another car. Forward we drove toward an experience that would change me forever.

Our first stop was at my own Godfather's house where we were greeted with open arms and a full meal, the typical welcoming of Greeks. My Godfather, Manoli, is a bear of a man. A huge belly and wild hair accent his irreplaceable smile. He gave me a hug and greeted the rest of his guests. I sat quietly by myself, contemplating what was in store for me. The contemplation, however, started to slow down after I was offered some raki. Any time you visit a home, restaurant or bar on Crete, you will surely be offered some raki. Raki, arguably could be considered the drink of the island. It is a strong liquor made from the stems of grapes that hits you with such power your eyes begin to water. So you could imagine that all my worrying blew out the door by the time I threw back my third shot of raki. We stayed at my Godfather's home and ate and drank. At one point he grabbed me to the side and told me that everything would be fine. Most Greek men that I know would not do this, but my Godfather was a different kind of Greek. His smile never went away. I took his words to heart and thought about him baptizing me 20 years earlier. We said our thanks and said our good-byes. I was definitely feeling more at ease with the situation. Maybe it was my Godfather's kind words or maybe it was the raki.

We loaded back into our cars and got back on the road again. We traveled on old roads through villages of whitewashed houses, whose exteriors were faded from the hundreds of years of scorching sun they have survived. I traveled the same roads often as a young boy. The same roads that used to confuse me because of what I saw on them. In America we never had to stop on any road, let alone a highway, to allow a herd of goats to pass. We never saw 80-year-old men sitting sideways on donkeys traveling home from work. Those are the images I see in Greece everyday and they always helped further accent the differences between Greek culture and American culture, consequently creating a confusing void in my life. But then, in my twentieth year, I understood the roads and was beginning to understand the buildings and their meaning too. I was beginning to understand the people and my family. The buildings represented a foundation, strength and beauty with age. The same thing my family in Greece represents. I was chosen to baptize Sophecles for a reason. It was an act that would connect us as family too.

We finally reached our second pit stop; a little family owned restaurant outside the town of Dareavana is one my father and I still visit. There we were treated like royalty once again. An old couple, Nikos and Heriklia own the tiny restaurant. They are distant family whom I see only a few times a year, but they came out to greet us like they had been waiting a whole year for us to return. Inside we ate and talked about the baptism while the old man poured a few more shots of raki for the group. By now I was ready to be a Godfather. (Again, the shots must be taken into account. Most times my father would cut me off after a couple of shots, from fear that I would fall into a drunken stupor. This time he didn't seem to notice. Either he was so proud of me or he himself had felt the effects of the raki and didnt bother saying anything.) I felt like a man amongst men. By this time we all had such bright smiles on our faces that we could have drained the whitewash off a whole village.

The old couple wished me luck and yelled a phrase I remember hearing my Grandma always say. Sto kalo. Meaning, towards the good. I yelled back efharisto, thank you, as we pulled away. I felt almost as if I were being rooted for like the New York Yankees in the World Series. I realized how much the baptism meant to a lot of people and in turn realized what it meant to me, yet I was the one who had disregarded it for so long. We pulled up to Sophecles parents home which was the first time I had seen it. And all of a sudden his parents were kissing me and hugging me while others seemed to be waiting their turn. I looked at my dad in amazement, but he just looked at me like I would know what to do next. I greeted everybody with pride and finally I was introduced to Sophecles. He seemed to be at ease in his red shirt and white shorts. Totally oblivious to the fact that I would be the one, who in a few hours, would be dunking his naked body into a tub of water while hundreds looked on. I gave him a hug and talked to him briefly and before I knew it we were off to the church.

The church, although not extremely large, was full of pictures of gods and prophets. I was surrounded by my family and the Greek Orthodox priest. The priest wore a royal blue robe with a stunning gold and orange shawl. He seemed to resemble the nobility of the prophets on the walls. I was told to put my right hand on Sophecles shoulder while the priest delivered the ritual prayers. Sophecles still didn't seem to notice that he and I were the center of attention. The priest would deliver prayers which I was to respond to. This was made easier with the help of my father standing over my shoulder. The priest would speak so fast and with my not-so-perfect Greek, I would get lost sometimes. But before I knew it I was dunking Sophecles into the tub of water as he finally came to the realization of his baptism. I had done it. I had made him into a Godson and he had turned me into a Godfather. From that moment on Sophecles and I have been family. Another link in a chain of many. And in ways Sophecles had turned me into a man. On that day I saw the most proud look on the proudest man I know; my father. He gave me a big hug after the ceremony was complete. A hug, that to me, was a welcoming to manhood.