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.

Talk of JPII’s beatification is in the air. JPII helped Saint Gaetano get there. Here’s how. Filmed in Reggio and Rome by Michael Frierson, UNC-Greensboro.

Birthplace of a saint, and my grandfather. Video by Michael Frierson, UNC-Greensboro film professor. Starring Enzo Catanoso of Reggio Calabria.

Video by Michael Frierson, UNC-Greensboro. Shot on location in Reggio Calabria.

Italians living north of Rome will likely scoff at the notion, put forth here at globalfinancialworld.com, that vacation property in Calabria is an emerging investment opportunity. Calabria, which largely makes up the toe of the boot of Italy, has long, gorgeous coastlines, stunning vistas and rugged mountains. It’s also, I can fairly say, rather poor, often corrupt, mostly undeveloped, and in too many places — cities and villages alike — shabby and unkempt. I can’t speak for the entire region, but in a city like Reggio, blessed with a truly remarkable location, the lack of pride in public works and general civic appearance is evident on too many streets and piazzas. It’s heartbreaking, because it could be so beautiful.

Still, the potential for Calabria to be a genunine tourist destination for Italians, Europeans and Americans is limitless. The natural beauty is there. The history and culture and food and hospitality is there, too. But Im afraid it would require a Herculean change in attitude — in northern and southern Italy — to bring about the necessary changes.

Today is the fifth anniversary of the start of a life-changing family vacation. On this day in 2003, with headlines blaring code-red alerts about airport threats of terrorism, we boarded a US Airways flight from Newark to Rome with our three daughters for the start of a two-week vacation in Italy. Rome, Florence, Venice and a magical, memorable weekend in Reggio Calabria, where we were embraced by Catanoso relatives we never knew we had. I kept a detailed journal about the entire trip. I’m a journalist. I take notes. I had no idea, of course, that those journal entries, a few years later, would become of the first draft of two chapters for my first book.

The photo here, taken on Dec. 27, 2003, feels somehow historic. It was taken at the train station in Reggio Calabrian when the American and Italian branches of the Catanoso family were reunited for the first time in decades. My girls and me gleefully stand between Daniela on the far left and Giovanna and Pina on the far right. All of us Catanosos. All together. Five years ago.

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.

In June 2006, I interviewed a most extraordinary doctor, Giuseppe Bolignano (above), a virologist at the metro hospital in Reggio Calabria. A few years earlier, he had given up on a patient who seemed to have been defeated by an awful case of meningitis. He advised the family to pull the plug. Instead, they prayed overtime to Padre Gaetano Catanoso. When this patient arose from her coma, her inexplicable recovery was later deemed by the Vatican, and Pope John Paul II, as a miracle — the miracle which led to Padre Gaetano’s canonization on October 23, 2005.

During my interview with Dr. Bolignano, I asked him about the line between science and religion, between the cold facts of biology and the mystical nature of the supernatural. His response: “There is a line that is incredible and unexplainable, and when you cross it, there is nothing else left but faith.” Bolignano’s faith is strong, even for an accomplished scientist. While his colleagues at the hospital are skeptical, he is not. He believed he witnessed a miracle.

This story came to mind when I heard about this survey, which reports that fewer doctors believe in the importance of every day prayer.

Filmed in Calabria, Italy, just above the village of Chorio by Michael Frierson.