"I would like to order an eggwhite sandwich and and ice coffee with extra skim milk, please," I told the woman in the luncheonette.  "Sure, no problem, where are you headed today?" she asked.  I put down my oversized dufflebag and said, "I am going to Brighton, MA to visit my father's cousin. "Oh, I have been to Brighton before, There are so many Italians there," the waitress said.  I laughed and said, "Gee, I wonder why I like going to Brighton?  "Are you staying long?" she asked. "Oh, I am just going for the weekend", I replied.  "Wow, you have a big bag for just one weekend!" she  chuckled.  Well, everyone who knows me will tell you that I tend to overpack. I know that I have mentioned this in a couple of my stories.  As a matter of fact, anytime I travel by plane, the workers in the airport usually put a big "attenzione," or "caution" sticker on my luggage, followed by the word, "pisante", which means "heavy".
 
Something felt special about this trip. I had a gut instinct that this weekend trip would be very different. "Aren't  you a writer?", she asked. "I remember seeing you here last month".  I smiled and said, "Yes, I write as a hobby, but I do not work for a newspaper, magazine, television or radio station. My work has been published in a couple of Italian American newspapers, but it is only a hobby. I plan to place the stories from my website and place them in a paperback book soon and an audio book.  Things are going well. I am receiving at least 150 emails per day from my readers and people who want to share their story with me," I replied. Most people just call me "The writer" nowadays.  That has become my nickname. "I am going to Brighton to see my father's cousin, Rafaela, and to meet up with a friend of mine named Dan Leone. It is ironic that he has the same name as my father, paternal grandfather, cousin and my older brother. However, we are not related.  Dan Leone's father, Donato Leone (Donato means Dan) is from San Donato Val Di Comino just like my parents, grandparents, and greatgrandparents.    "Do you think you are distant  cousins or something?", she asked.   " I doubt it, but all I know is that he is a very warm, considerate, and friendly person.  It was just a chance meeting, a mere coincidence,"   I told her. However,   I   beleive that  we meet people for a reason. "He writes as a hobby, too. Actually, I will be writing a story about him," I said. The waitress wished me luck and I left to catch my train.
 
I enjoyed the view of Old Saybrook, CT  and Providence, RI as I looked out the window of the train.  I thought about my recent phone conversation with Dan Leone. He told me that he and his wife, Libby, had gone to San Donato for their honeymoon about 12 years ago.  We talked about San Donato, our writings, and shared things about our family. His voice tone changed when he told me that his father passed away in December 2008. "How did he die?" I asked. He told me that his father was on vacation a couple of years ago in San Donato Val Di comino, Italy and suddenly, his speech became slurred. After he returned to the states, he was diagnosed with ALS, or Lou Gehrig's disease. He told me that he wants to keep the Italian traditions alive and continue doing many of the things that his father had done throughout his life.  I sensed Dan's sadness and I felt a connection to him as he asked me to write his story.  I realized that writing a story about Dan would be a special gift to him, but more importantly, my friendship with Dan is a special gift to me. We are from the same fabric, with roots in San Donato Val di comino. I do not know alot about Lou Gehrig's disease, but I knew that Dan's story would change me forever.
 
"South Station," the conductor yelled.   I threw away my bottle of Perrier and the remains of my veggie burger and headed into the station.  South Station is one of my favorite train stations. It is small, but they have a wonderful chocolate shop.  I bought my father's cousin, Rafaela, a box of marzipan and gourmet chocolates with a beautiful purple bow across the silver box.  Although she is my father's cousin, I refer to her as Zia Rafaela, or Aunt Rafaela.
 
Zia Rafaela was happy to see me. As usual, she hugged me and made me feel welcome. Anytime I visit someone, the first thing I want is a freshly made cup of coffee.  However, at Zia Rafaela's, there was no way to have just coffee.  I glanced at her kitchen counter and noticed two freshly made ricotta pies, fresh mozarella, and tomatoes.  Well, I don't mean to make you hungry, but Zia Rafaela made focaccia bread with rosemary herbs.  It is a good thing I swam a few laps in the pool at the gym the other day before my trip to Zia Rafaela's.  "Do you want lamb chops?" she asked. "No, it's too early for lamb chops," I said.  I decided to eat the focaccia bread, tomatoes and mozarrella.  

We chatted and I told Zia Rafaela that I planned to get together with my friend, Dan Leone in Brighton. "Tell him to come here. I have plenty of food." Each time I write a story, I always meet people in public places such as coffee shops or restaurants, but I decided to make an exception for Dan because I immediately trusted him. Besides, he is a San Donatese at heart, a true paesano, so I decided to invite him over.
 
My cousin David stopped by Zia Rafaela's house. He arrived with cow manure to fertilize the vegetable garden. I watched him shovel the manure across the garden. Zia Rafaela and I drank our coffee as we watched David sprinkle and toss the manure in her garden. Suddenly, the phone rang.  I ran into the house and it was Dan.
 
"Zia Rafaela wants to know if you would like to come over for dinner. She is cooking lamb chops, fresh spring beans, salad, homemade marinara sauce, and ziti," I said.  "Wow, that sounds good," Dan said.   "Are you sure she does not mind if I join you?"  I laughed and said, "of course not! you are welcome here. Zia is the one who came up with the idea."   Dan said he would be over at 6:30pm and then he said that he wanted me to go to his house so I can write his story under his father's grape arbor. "By the way, you have to see my father's cantina," he said.  A cantina is a basement or cellar.  Italians make wine, liquor, or use it as a work area.  Sometimes, a cantina is a man or woman's special "space" to keep their tools, wine press, religious statues, shoes, sneakers, work boots, baseball caps or anything they enjoy keeping there!  "That sounds great! See you at 6:30pm." However, never move anything in the cantina. The man or woman has their special place for everything in the cantina. If you move something in the cantina, you will hear about it for days!
 
Dan seemed comfortable at Zia's house. His eyes lit up when he talked about his wife, Libby, and his children, Michael, who is 11 years old, Mark, 7, and Nicole age 5.  Also, he talked about his mother, Adis Duarte-Leone. She is from Uruguay, but I have been told that she is an excellent cook.  Her specialties are is Chicken Milanese and home made pasta.
 
Zia told Dan about the Feast of San Donato, which will be held on August 1st in Newton, MA.  As I had mentioned in my other stories, Newton MAis the twin town of San Donato Val Di comino, Italy, as many San Donatese settled there after immigrating to the United States. One year, there were about 300 San Donatese at the feast.   They have the festival in Newton, MA during the same time of year as San Donato Val di Comino. The patron saint is San Donato. Recently, the San Donato statue was placed in St. Colimbkilles church, which is located in Brighton MA.  There have been many times that I have forgotten I was in Brighton or Newton, and for a few moments, my mind would travel back to San Donato, Italy.
 
 
Dan walked me over to the grape arbor. Just under the grape arbor was a picnic table which his father had made.  "Wow, that is a beautiful barbecue," I said, as I pointed to their brick barbecue.  "My father was a brick layer and he built it," Dan said.  While Dan opened his heart to me, he described his relationship with his father. I listened with my ears and heart as I wrote his story.
 
"My father never really hugged or kissed me," he said.  "He was very reserved and did not display affection."   However, Dan said that the only time he and his father hugged each other was at the airport.  Dan put his suitcase in the backseat of the car, and delicately placed his laptop computer on the back seat.  As soon as they arrived at the airport, his father hugged him goodbye. "Have a safe trip, and please call us when you get there."  Dan's father never said "I love you," but Dan sensed his father's love and it was evident in the way his father provided for his family and all of the things that his father had done for his family.
 
Dan said that he was curious about his father and wanted to visit his father at some of the job sites.  However, his father would say, "I worked like a jackass today," which means that he worked very hard. "Never work with your hands. Get a good job, but no matter what, never become a bricklayer," his father told him.  This surprised me as most Italians and Italian Americans that I know are proud of the fact that they work with theri hands.  I can only give my opinion because I had never met Dan's father, but I think his father just wanted him to have a better way of life, or wanted to push his son to pursue the right career rather than becoming a skilled laborer.  Bricklaying is hard work and it takes a special type of person to do that type of work. One day, Dan's father yelled, "Hey , bring me some of those bricks. I need a few for this barbecue."  Dan picked up the bricks and carried one or two bricks at a time. Dan was often embarassed to carry just one or two bricks. "My father could carry a whole row of bricks in a special sling that he had. He would sling the row of bricks over his shoulders and never complained," Dan said.
 
As the Brighton breezes blew across the yard, I noticed the tomato garden. "Hey, Dan, did you plant those tomatoes by yourself,?" I asked.  "Yes, I planted them. I think I might have planted them too early, but we'll see how they grow," Dan said.  "It is amazing how talented my father was at building things or planting tomatoes.  After he died, I had to look it up on U-tube because I never planted tomatoes while he was alive, " Dan mentioned.

I told Dan that he should take things one step at  a time.  He does not have to rush to do everything his father used to . It is important to carry on traditions, but I do not want Dan to feel like a failure if he can not do everything the same way as his father.  "I want to plant tomatoes so I can prove to my father that I can do this now that he is not here," Dan said. Dan is motivated to carry on the same things that his father did while he is healing from his father's death.
 
The sound of a hammer banging against the nails on the porch started around 3pm one afternoon.  Dan's father used to work as a bricklayer from 4am in the morning until 3pm in the afternoon. However, as soon as he got home, he would start on a project.  Sometimes he would build a porch or fix something before dinner time. Dan said that his father set a good example by possessing a strong work ethic. This will always be remembered.
 
If I had an aerial view of Dan's yard, I would see Dan's children riding their bicycles and playing in the yard while his mother, Adis, cooked chicken milanese.   His father would be in the cantina standing next to the wine press after he came home from the Sons of Italy club in Newton, MA.  I could hear his mother say,  "Dinner is ready," .  The house was animated with the laughter of children, the sound of his father's footsteps as he walked up the stairs from the cantina, and the scent of chicken milanese.  After dinner, his father played cards with Adis. "My parents used to play cards on the picnic table under the grape arbor, " Dan said.  "My father played scoba. He used to slide some of the cards under his leg or would sit on the cards. It was his way of cheating during the card game. My mother and father laughed about it,  Dan added.  Donato and Adis scheduled their dentist and doctor's appointment's together. Dan explained that his parents did everything together. They were inseperable.
 
Dan was writing a book about a father-son relationship  prior to his father being diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease.   He spent time writing, going to his son's baseball games, and working  as a Senior Sales Systems Administrator for New Balance in Massachusetts.
 
However, after his father was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease, his father's illness molded him, and changed his life.  Sometimes Dan found that it was difficult to concentrate at work.  He dreaded going home at the end of the day due to the tension, pain, and emotional suffering which was caused by his father's illness.  "Dad," his son asked, "why isn't grandpa coming to my baseball game?"  and "How come grandpa can not walk?". All of the "why questions" floated through Dan's house as he helped his mother and father.  "Dad's home!" his children would say. However, Dan parked his car in the driveway and sat there for a few minutes. He dreaded going into the house. However, he knew that his father needed his help.  Sometimes Dan would help to lift his father or help to get him dressed.  "I would not make it to the second floor of my house because my mother would see me pulling into the driveway." His mother would say, "Dan, come here, please help."
 
Dan's wife Libby  took care of their children and maintained the home while she dove through piles of paperwork.  "I called the medicare office today and they said...", she would tell Dan or Dan's mom.  "We have to arrange for a meeting with an attorney tomorrow," his sister, Maria Leone  explained to his mother.  Maria's role was to handle the attorney and the related paperwork.   However, Libby's role was to take care of her children, be strong for everyone, and keep up with the responsibilities in her home while she stayed on track with insurance companies.The bureaucracies, red tape and paperwork became her focus as she tended to her children and Dan.
 
Dan explained that the first sign of Lou Gehrig's disease was slurred speech.  The second symptom was his father's loss of the ability to swallow. Eventually, he became paralyzed, and his diaphram stopped working, which caused him to suffocate and stop breathing. 
 
Dan's sadness was reflected in his eyes as we sat under the beautiful grape arbor. Also, Dan's love for his father and his passion for carrying on his father's traditions beamed from his eyes, yet  the hurt and pain reflected in his voice as he looked at me and said, "The disease sucks." It was a sentence filled with sorrow and pain.  The stress, pain, anguish, hurt and sadness extended beyond himself. His father's battle with Lou Gehrig's disease engulfed him.  "I was his secondary care giver. My mother was his primary care giver," he said.

Dan remembers the sound of his father crying and laughing at the same time, which is called "emotional flooding."   I did not know alot about Lou Gehrig's disease, but as Dan opened his heart to me, I wanted to know more.  We connected on a very high level that night.  The simplest tasks that we take for granted became a chore for Dan's father. There was alot of frustration, especially when his father had difficulty swallowing.  Even during his battle with Lou Gehrig's disease, his father had alot of pride and sometimes became embarassed by the fact that his wife, son, and daughter had to help him from the bed to the chair. They held on to his hand or arm and led him tenderly to his favorite chair or to his side of the bed with her devotion and love. Everyone in the family showed their love and support during this difficult time.

One afternoon, Dan said he experienced a "melt down." He just could not handle the situation.  He was sensitive to everything around him. Certain songs triggered emotions.  His father was given 1 1/2 to 3 years to live after he was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig's disease.  He had Bulbar Palsy, which is the specific type of Lou Gehrig's disease. It affects the person's ability to breathe, speak and swallow.  His father did not have time to really process and accept the disease as it happened so suddenly.  He experienced intense shock.

 "Do you want to see my father's cantina?" Dan asked.  "Of course I do." As a writer I love to see people in their element or natural surroundings, but only if I know the person well. Since I have been meeting many people for the first or just the second time, many times I have to meet with the person or ask them to bring photos with them so I can create guided imagery in the story. I only go to a person's home when I am comfortable and when I know it is safe.

Dan showed me his wine collection from the South of France,especially Cotes Du Rhone, which has an earthy taste. Although Dan does not know how to make wine, he has a desire to learn how to make wine this year.  "I wish I could ask my father to come back and make wine. This time, I would pay attention," Dan said. 

The cantina is still exactly the way his father had left it.  There was a glass jar of nails, a few baseball caps, and several pairs of leather shoes, sneakers, and work boots.  There were a few coolers on one of the shelves against the wall. "We used those coolers when we went to New Hampshire together," Dan told me.  Also, I noticed a few prayer cards with various saints.  Although Dan's father was not religious, he obviously recognized and believed in different saints. They were taped to the wall near his work area.  Dan showed me a piece of carpeting. As I looked closely, it was the insole of his father's shoe. "My father used carpet as an insole for his shoes." As I have oftened mentioned, Italians have a creative way of fixing things and using household items. His father had placed the American flag near his work area and there was a homemade wooden American flag hanging on one of the doors in the cantina.   Also, Dan led me to the wine press, which has been untouched since his father's death.

Although Dan said that his father was not a religious man, he attended his niece's first communion. For the first time, Dan saw his father kneeling in church while he was ill. "While my father was praying on his knees, I had to leave church. I could not handle the pain of seeing my father praying while he was ill. It was too painful to see."
 

Dan recalls the day that he realized he was running out of shelf space for his wine collection.  He started to hear the sound of his father hammering in the cantina.  Dan walked into the cantina and saw his father sitting on the floor. "Dad, what are you doing,?" Dan asked, as he walked over the scraps of wood.  His father had scraps of different types of wood and he started to nail them to the wall. Although he missed the nail and had to swing at the nail a few times, he managed to build shelves in the cantina for his son. His father looked at his son, waved his hammer and said, "eh.." as he pointed to the pieces of wood.  It was his last gift to his son.  Italians had many different reasons to use the word, "eh." Sometimes it was a way of saying, "hey, I feel like it, it is not a big deal." Other times it was said a different way, such as "ehhhhhhh.." followed by the waving of the hand as if to say, "don't make a big deal about this. I want to do it."He knew his son needed shelves, so he made them.  I touched every shelf in his cantina that night. I did not even focus on the different sizes, colors, or crookedness of the shelves.  Instead,  I was moved by the fact that his father wanted to give his son this special gift, even during a time of serious illness.  Tears filled my eyes and I had to put my pen down for a moment. Dan said,"I will never take these shelves down. It does not matter to me that the shelves are different colors, sizes, or that they might be a little crooked. The fact is that my father made these shelves for me before he died. He did not let his illness stop him from giving me these shelves that I needed."  

I realized that Dan's story was not just about a father and son relationship, but it was symbolic of a father and son's deep love for each other. Also, on a higher level, it was a story about a father's unselfishness, even during a time of illness. Love never stops or fades away, even with our imperfections. Although the shelves in the cantina may be crooked and Dan has not learned how to make homemade Italian wine, the shelves are symbolic of the love that Dan's father showed.  Dan will pass this type of love on to his own children in many different ways.

Dan gave his father's eulogy at the funeral. "Today I smile because my father is no longer suffering. We can go on with the business of remembering the man that he was and we can focus on where he is going now to get his breath."  Dan's mother brings flowers to the cemetary everyday. He was buried in Newton, MA.

 Sometimes, Dan smells the chicken milanese cooking when he gets home from work. He pokes his head into his mom's kitchen and says, "hey, what are you cooking?" She always says, "Chicken milanese or homemade pasta."

 Dan pointed to the picnic table as we headed back to his car.  He was ready to drive me back to Zia Rafaela's house, but he stopped at the picnic table that his father had built.  Dan said, "I want this spot to be the headquarters for family and friends. When I was younger, I remembered seeing my cousins. I would like to bring back that tradition. I want friends and family to stop in unannounced, just like it used to be."  He has reconnected with some of his cousins on facebook and on the phone.  Also, Dan wants to learn how to make wine. "Go and join the Sons of Italy in Newton, MA, "I told him. "You can learn how to make wine there. I have some friends in Connecticut who can show you how, too. Frank Faiella or Enzo Caringi might be able to help you out," I added.  "But, take it one step at a time.  You don't have to do everything the way your father did. Take it slowly.  Reuniting family and getting the gatherings back under the grape arbor is the best tradition ever, and the most important one of all," I told Dan.

 When we arrived at Zia Rafaela's house, he hugged me good bye and said "you are so sweet."   I looked at Dan and told him that he can carry on the tradition of keeping his family and friends together. I hope he has a gathering later in the autumn with his wife, children, mother, and all of his cousins. 

That would be a wonderful ending to the story. I hope to write a follow up story about Dan.  

Just like many Italian Americans and Italians, he continues to find solace in Italian music, especially the music from the opera, "La Boheme."