Last month, while in New York City, I was interviewed for a podcast about my book by Tim Reidy, online editor for America magazine, the fairly liberal Catholic monthly published by the Society of Jesuits. Father James Martin, bestselling author of My Life with the Saints, is a regular contributor to the widely regarded publication. My podcast was posted today and can be heard here.
In this video, shot in March 2008 in Reggio Calabria, you can see the room in which Padre Gaetano died on April 4, 1963. Of this day, his close friend, Don Basilio Guzzo, said: “That day a light went out, a light that had illuminated the road to the Lord for so many men and women. A star had gone out, too, a star that had shown holiness for years and years.”
Forty-six years ago today, in the Santo Spirito neighborhood of Reggio Calabria, priests, nuns, parishioners and family members crowded the small bedroom of 84-year-old Padre Gaetano Catanoso, who was near death. Among the visitors, Monsigor Aurelio Sorrentino, who told his mentor that he had just spoken with seminary students in Reggio about St. Francis of Paolo, the last saint ever named from Calabria. Overhearing the conversation, Mother Anastasia, who led Gaetano’s order of nuns, whispered, “Calabria needs saints.” Sorrentino nodded his agreement. More importantly, some 15 years after Padre Gaetano’s death, Sorrentino would launch the cause of canonization.
A few weeks ago, I was invited to visit Harvey’s Kitchen in the Historic Aycock Neighborhood in Greensboro. Visiting the cramped, working kitchen, which Harvey transforms rather simply and elegantly into a studio set, is becoming a must-do for artists of all kinds across the Triad, and increasingly, farther afield. We come and sit awhile to perform or tell a few stories. Then Harvey turns it into video magic. My wife was there in January, performing a couple of her songs with guitarist Scott Manring. That night, Harvey Robinson and his partner, Carolyn de Berry, learned about my cousin the saint. They invited me to visit the kitchen a few weeks later.
Birthplace of a saint, and my grandfather. Video by Michael Frierson, UNC-Greensboro film professor. Starring Enzo Catanoso of Reggio Calabria.
I have been wondering about the possible parallels between Martin Luther King Jr., and Padre Gaetano Catanoso, my cousin the saint. Certainly, both men shared a deep faith in Christianity and sought and fought against great odds to serve the poor and oppressed. These thoughts arise as my next opportunity to speak about my book nears — at Virginia Wesleyan College in Norfolk on Jan. 19, MLK Day in America.
My talk will start around 7 p.m. in Blocker Hall on the campus. Books will be available. Details are here.
The blog Not Strictly Spiritual writes: “I took (My Cousin the Saint) off the shelf recently, suggesting that Dennis (whose family also happens to hail from Avellino) read it, but in the process I opened it up and read the first three pages. That was it. I was hooked. Not only is the story great, but the writing is amazing. I’ll post a full review once I’m done with the book, but I can tell you right now that this book will be worth your time.”
The full post is here.
Author, free-lance writer and blogger Jen Miller offers her reasoned and well-regarded picks for the year, including one especially close to my heart.
Another anniversary, and a terrible one — the 100th anniversary of the worst earthquake to strike Western Europe, before or since. It struck today, in 1908 in the Strait of Messina, virtually obliterating the city of Messina in Sicily and doing nearly the same amount of damage in Reggio di Calabria. Tens of thousands were killed. Padre Gaetano was a parish priest in Pentidattilo at the time and barely escaped injury. The devastation was widespread and longlasting. It was decades before the two main cities were rebuilt.
MORE on the American response to the devastating earthquake here and the role of President Teddy Roosevelt, thanks to Joe Guarino.
I received a call at home this morning from Reggio Calabria. It was sad news. Vincenzo Infortuna, the 49-year-old husband of my cousin Caterina Catanoso, and father of Domenico and Manuela, died earlier today at his home in Reggio from complications of ALS, better known as Lou Gehrig’s disease.
Vincenzo appears in my book several times, initially in Part II during our first family trip to Italy nearly five years ago, and then again in Part III, when I returned to Calabria in June 2006 for research. Vincenzo was a wonderful man — vibrant, generous and soulful. My first night back in Reggio, when I was uncertain my relatives knew why I was there or how much I needed their assistance, Vincenzo told me at dinner: “Whatever you need, we will help you; wherever you need to go, we will take you.”
And they did, for three solid weeks. Even though Vincenzo was traveling to Torino for treatments(and was already partially paralyzed from his ALS), he made time to take me and Germaine, my friend and interpreter, to Roccaforte del Greco to meet Anna Pangallo, the peasant woman who received the second Vatican-certified miracles from Padre Gaetano Catanoso. The photo above was taken in the Aspromonte of southern Calabria, on our way to see Anna Pangallo. It was a memorable day at so many levels — not the least of which was spending the entire day with Vincenzo (Caterina had me over for dinner that evening).
Near the end of my visit, Vincenzo spoke to me at length, and from the heart, about his illness, about his love for the Catanoso family and about his abiding faith in Padre Gaetano. He told me of his prayers for a miracle cure and humbly explained why he believed he was worthy. And perhaps as much, if not more, than my Catanoso cousins, Vincenzo helped me understand truly what it means to have a saint in the family. I have heard from many readers who were touched by Vincenzo’s eloquence and inquired with me about his health. It is gratifying for me to share his story and message of faith with so many others.
When my wife and I traveled back to Calabria earlier this year to visit our relatives and share with them copies of my book, we got to visit with Vincenzo and his family. His condition had grown so much worse since the summer of 2006. ALS is such a progressive, unforgiving disease. But his eyes and face lit up when I was able to show him where I wrote about him in my book, and where his photograph appeared. I will never forget that smile. Nor will I forget Vincenzo. But I will miss him very much.
Ciao mio caro amico.
