spiro matsos

A couple nights ago, I met Spiro Matsos, eighty-two-year-old owner of a treasure of a little Italian and Greek restaurant in a tiny town in Ohio.

He was cooking and running his restaurant alone, with no help that night, so he met each guest at the door when we rang the bell and let us know it would be a long wait — that he was happy to serve us and cook for us, but he wanted to be honest in case we were very hungry or in a rush.

He seated me, assuring me a big family was too much, but he could handle one person. He brought me a menu and asked what I wanted and then brought a tin of old crayons and said “if you want a break from your phone, draw a picture! Draw something happy!” and then walked off to the kitchen to keep cooking.

He was full of warmth, kindness, calm in the chaos, and twinkling magic like a Greek Santa Claus. One could tell instantly he would make the best sort of grandpa. There were colored pictures and old photos all over every surface of the walls. He had pictures of his family members from decades ago, headshots of his sons, more recent photos of him with his grandson and his “grandfriends,” as he called them.

It was a busy situation for him, making the take out orders and speaking with everyone who walked in, all by himself. But he did not let it get him down in the slightest. He worked hard, brought everyone waters and drinks, took orders with cheer, and brought out the most delicious food.

As I sat coloring, he brought me fresh bread, a bonus surprise which I didn’t even order, and told me it was all fixed up with garlic and olive oil… it was decadent.

When my small pizza was ready, he brought it out, delighted as he was the whole night, and said, “here you go, Miss Brianna, here is your sausage and mozzarella, and this plate is for you, and here is your little spatula!!” As if the small pizza-serving utensil was the cutest thing we’d ever both seen!

He was just this full of happiness the whole night. I could tell he loves people and cooking and his life, very much. He is an observer, thinker, and giver.

Mr. Matsos stopped and talked with me many times throughout the night, regardless of how busy he was. He mentioned a little kid he met the day before, maybe two years old, he said. And he told me, she was so smart. Then he said, “Kids are like blank records, and we have to carve into them what they need, but we have to be very careful, you know.”

He went on, with loving wisdom, “It’s ok to do something wrong if you don’t know it’s wrong; but if you know it’s wrong, that’s not good.”

❤️❤️❤️

So simple. Acceptance. Grace. Responsibility. Vivaciousness for life. Love. Growth.

Mr. Matsos, at eighty-two years old, owns his business and building, is in the opera, travels to see his friends in California and Washington DC, is very proud of his sons and what they are doing, is taking university philosophy classes, and was married to the most amazing woman he ever knew for forty years until she passed. He shared with me what a gift his wife was to him, that he married “way, way up,” and that she taught him everything he knows — the other half about life his wonderful mother didn’t teach him before he met his wife. That the best things God created were people and the best after that were ladies. That he was very, very lucky. What a life.

He talked to me about always keeping classical music playing in restaurant, no tv screens or anything unnatural, to keep his lovely, delicious, soothing atmosphere, and run an honest restaurant, where people can come to relax.

He talked to me about working hard and going to bed at the end of each day, satisfied and fulfilled, because he knows he was honest and did his best and loved his life.

Mr. Matsos told me a parable about how when we are born, we each have two horses inside our minds, and one is a white horse, and the other a black horse. The white horse has a tendency to always keep trying to fly higher and higher, and the black horse perpetually tries to sink down, down, down, and our job is to steer the reigns and continually practice keeping them both level. He acted it out, with his hands holding the invisible reigns, demonstrating, saying in every second of every day, we are doing this work; we must manage ourselves and our minds, what we put into them, how we keep the up and down balanced. We must know ourselves and try to notice any wrongs we have done to practice righting them and not making the same mistakes again. We must control our thoughts and what we allow in our heads. And we can do all this with kindness.

My dinner and conversations took two hours in Mr. Matsos’ restaurant, and I had an amazing, relaxing, refreshing, inspiring time. I ate my terrific bread and pizza, and he brought me a small colorful dish of Neapolitan ice cream, even though I didn’t ask for it. I spent the dinner coloring him a thank you note with drawings all over it (“color a happy picture!”) because every time he walked by and saw my doodles (which did look very much like elementary school creatures and skill-level), he said “oh wow, Brianna, this is amazing, you must have been a very talented artist when you were a child; you had to have been! How wonderful!” And he treated my drawing and note as if they were a precious gift of gold! So honored and delighted to receive them! He wrote me a thank you note, with my name and his name in Greek. Then he showed me several others he had stashed behind his cash register and taped all over the walls, and family photos kids had brought in for him, and a card that says, “very blessed,” which he wholeheartedly agrees with and lives by.

I wonder how long my drawings will live in Spiro Matsos’ little Greek and pizza restaurant. He is a treasure of a man, adding much welcoming warmth, kindness, and acceptance to the world. It’s obvious he has touched so many lives and there are countless who love him. He embodies love for everyone. A true gift to all he meets.

Walking across the street and in that door, unplanned, ended up leading to a highlight of the day for me!