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Memoirist Suzanne Lo Coco Shares Secret Dough

Restauranteur's daughter and former restaurant owner Suzanne Lo Coco doesn't recommend people get into the restaurant business.

 

"You need a lot of raw talent, and you need to be willing to put in all that time and hard work and long hours and miss weddings and parties and everything else and have your hands burned several times over and still work through a shift," she says. 

 

She's done all that and then some, having run the popular La Fornaretta in Pasadena, California, for nearly ten years before new landlords purchased her lease in order to repurpose the building. She also watched her father's challenging rise from immigrant to successful owner of Lo Coco restaurants

 

Still, despite their mother's misgivings, Suzanne's sons, Gian Luca and Gilberto Di Lorenzo, have carried on the tradition at La Fornaretta in Newcastle, California. And Gian Luca has invited Suzanne to join him in a new pasta-making venture he's started with her brother Frank.  

 

"I feel very complimented that they asked me to do that," Suzanne says. 

 

There will undoubtedly be more stories to tell for this Washington resident, who recently published the deliciously entertaining memoir Secret Dough. Drawing from the wit and wisdom of her late father, Giovanni Lo Coco, Suzanne shares her journey to self-discovery flavored with Sicilian traditions, relationship drama, and humorous stories. She's even thrown in a handful of recipes to savor between page turns. 

 

Suzanne is what we call a paesana. Giovanni came to the U.S. from Porticello, Sicily, the same village as my grandparents, and Suzanne has returned often.

 

We sat down for an entertaining chat about Porticello, the book's namesake dough, her writing inspiration, balancing personal and professional life, her favorite Giovanni aphorisms, and what she hopes readers will take away.   

 

 

What are your memories of Porticello?

The first time I went there, I was a baby. My parents drove across the United States and took the Michelangelo ship to Napoli and then to Sicily. They were there for two months, and I have absolutely no recollection of this trip whatsoever.

 

When I was 10, I returned with my dad for two weeks. When we got on the plane and took Alitalia from San Francisco to Rome and then Rome Palermo, he ordered me my own bottle of Asti spumante as soon as the plane lifted off the ground.

 

And he says, "This is an Italian plane, and now you are in Italy. The air… It's not America anymore. The air doesn't belong to anybody. Now we are on an Italian plane, so we are in Italy. You can drink with your papà."

 

The flight attendant didn't even bat an eye. He brought me my flute and bottle, and I drank that whole thing. Then, I crashed for several hours.
 

Every day when we were in Sicily, we'd drive from Palermo to Porticello and hang out. And everything is kind of mind-blowing to an 11-year-old who has only ever been in America, and all of a sudden, you're in Sicily.

 

I remember that at that time, there were a lot fewer cars and less traffic. And there were still women laying out those giant pieces of plywood propped up on sawhorses used to make tomato paste.

 

I remember swimming in the sea with my dad every day and him diving for ricci, sea urchins. I couldn't believe how long he could stay underwater! His cousins made pasta con ricci with his catch.

 

I remember going to the open fish markets—those giant swordfish on display made such an impression on me. Every town had its own frutta e verdura guy and fresh fish stand. And then, just randomly, there's this popup with a very round man under the tent tossing fresh octopus into these giant vats of boiling water with lemon halves bobbing around on the top. There are no women, just men at the counter that is set up with beautifully painted ceramic plates, lemon wedges and salt shakers. They are all spouting off in Sicilian, yelling and talking all at the same time while eating their octopus.

 

My dad stuffed things in my mouth throughout that whole trip. He stuffed a piece of octopus in my mouth, and I was horrified. They cut into the brains and that brown mushy stuff… Oh my God! I just remember swallowing it whole.

 

I remember the first time I had pane e panelle, and then I had to have it every day. I just loved the arancini and eating ice cream every day.
 

So, for me, when the plane lands in Rome… Sure, you're in Italy, and you're excited. But when the plane flies into Palermo, I feel like I'm at home. It really does pull on your heartstrings to go there, to be there—the sights, the smells.

 

After my dad retired, he spent half the year in Sicily. He happened to be there when he passed away, so we buried him there. Now, when I go to Sicily, I feel like I am visiting him. I'm so happy that he introduced us to this magical island and that it is part of our lives.

 

Tell us about your family. When and why did they leave Porticello for California?

My grandfather Gaetano Lo Coco was a professor of philosophy, but he was also, I guess, very instrumental in local politics and trying to advocate for the fishermen. His father was a fisherman. 

 
My grandfather used to own the land where Solunto is. It was full of olive and citrus orchards, climbing up the mountain behind Porticello. He was not a businessman or materialistic in any way—he was a true philosopher. 

 

Before selling the land, my dad's dream was to build a pizzeria and nightclub at the top of the mountain. My grandfather did not support this idea, which was very upsetting to him. For this reason, he decided to leave for America to pursue his dream of owning his own business. Funny—eventually, someone opened a pizzeria atop that mountain and became very successful!

 

When my father left, he ended up living with cousins for a couple of months in San Francisco's North Beach, where he had to teach himself English. He worked three jobs, seven days a week, both lunch and dinner shifts at various Fisherman's Wharf restaurants.

 

He met my mother about a year after he came to the States. They ended up getting married very quickly and starting a family. Shortly after they married, his cousin Domenic, whom he had lived with, recommended, "Giovanni, if you could come up with a really great pizza recipe, you will be very successful." 

 

Domenic planted the seed in his head: "I need to come up with a pizza recipe."

 

After a visit to Jackson, California my dad fell in love with the town, as it reminded him of scenes from old Western movies he had grown up with. So they moved there and opened their first pizzeria. That's where his secret dough recipe was born.

 

Let's talk about the significance of that dough; it's what you named your memoir.

So, there is a whole chapter on that in the book.

 

My parents divorced in 1977, maybe '78. Afterward, a gentleman named Eugene deChristopher came into the restaurant. He had been eating Lo Coco's Pizza in Marin County. He actually first approached my uncles, and they sent him over to my dad. So, he came into the restaurant in Pleasant Hill.

 

So Eugene comes to the restaurant and tells my dad, "This is a great product, and I think we can do something with it. Have you ever thought about marketing it like this or that?"

 

Initially, my dad thought, "Well, maybe we should open up franchises."

 

At the time, you had places like Pizza Hut and Shakey's and this and that. But still, if you go in and order a pizza, it's going to take some time. You can't get a pizza at the same time as a hamburger, right?

 

But my dad thought we could cut some of this production time in half by having a crust that's already half-baked and ready to be topped. He came up with this idea to speed up the pizza process.

 

He originally thought, "We'll start with universities and make all these really small, self-serve pizzerias."

 

The idea evolved from there.

 

Then Eugene said, "Well, we could package it. And then what about selling it in grocery stores?"

 

They created a company that was originally called PizzAmore.

 

Meanwhile, they are still in the developing phase, coming up with packaging ideas and reaching out to different companies for meetings. Eugene is sending in his son all the time, who hangs out at the pizza counter and watches night after night. One night, he was watching my dad make pizza and asked, "I don't understand, Giovanni; how do you get those bubbles on the crust?"

 

My dad, with his thick accent, responded, "That's the boboli—the cheese—it melts on the crust and makes the boboli."

 

The Boboli chapter of my book illustrates the "origins" of the pizza shell and the partnership between my father and Eugene. The company has since sold many times, and we wish them well.

 

What inspired you to write your memoir?

I was in my first marriage, and we were going through a very rocky time. Someone gave me Ruth Reichl's book Comfort Me with Apples, and it really inspired me.

 

I thought, "I have stories like this!"

 

So, I started writing, having been inspired by her books and also just as an outlet. And I always enjoyed writing.

 

I always enjoyed creative writing classes and writing term papers in school. I enjoyed the whole process of crafting a good story. Growing up in the restaurant business, one is naturally groomed to become a storyteller.

 

I interviewed my dad a lot when I started that process over twenty years ago. But this book is not that book. I did finish that. Many years later, I went back to school, and with all the required writing and reading, I sharpened my skills.

 

A couple of instructors had pulled me aside and said, "Do you do a lot of writing? I have to tell you, it's really a pleasure reading your papers."

 

I went back to school at 42 years old. I had an AA degree, but it still took me four years to get my BA.

 
I was raising kids and working, so I couldn't take a full load. I'd take three or four classes at a time.

 

Two years into school, I divorced but continued working at the restaurant until I got my degree. A few months before graduation, I met and started dating Stuart, who I eventually married. After we married, we moved to Tahoe and bought these two little houses. We lived in one of them, and I rented the other on Airbnb. Early on, one of my first guests was Cheryl Angelina Koehler, from the Bay Area, who was the publisher, editor, and designer for Edible East Bay Magazine.

 

Having had many false starts on writing a book, now that I had the time, I once again started dabbling in writing. I held so many stories in my head. I said, "I really want to do this."

 

So when Cheryl checked in, my mind went immediately to" I've got to meet this lady!"

 

But something about having her land on my doorstep ignited this hope and excitement within me.

 

I thought, "Somehow, this lady is going to help me in this process, to get this going, and to get this moving in the right direction."

 

I was dying to say something to her, but I didn't know how to approach the subject of my writing. Finally, just as they were checking out, she asked, "Can we meet your dogs?"

 

We got into this conversation, and I asked Cheryl, "You're from the East Bay. Well, do you go to Lo Coco's?"

 

We got into this discussion about Lo Coco's and then into a discussion about my dad. When I get into Giovanni Lo Coco's stories, I become very animated. I mean, there are so many good stories. He really was such a unique character.

 

She says, "That is pretty incredible. You should really write down some of these stories. Just start writing. I would love to help you. You can send me what you have, and I'll read it over."

 
I couldn't believe my good fortune. Of all the places in Tahoe she could have rented, this was the one. It was a sign! I needed to finally write and try to publish my memoir.

 
It took me months. I wrote about four chapters and then sat on them for months. I didn't have the nerve to send them to her, and I didn't think they'd be good enough.

 

Finally, my husband was like, "You've got to send this to her. Just send them. What do you have to lose?"

 

I sent her what I had, and she encouraged me to keep going. I continued sending bits and pieces and then decided to hold off until I finished the book. 

 

After three years, I forwarded her the final chapters, and she said, "Oh my God, you finished!"

 

That really excited her, and she went through it. Then suddenly, our process and our relationship shifted, and it really turned into a writer-editor relationship.

 

Tell us about your book's cover.

Well, as you can see on the cover of the book I sent Cheryl, I wanted to incorporate a lot of these articles. It was her brilliant idea to plaster them all over the book in a collage-type way. That basically makes up the cover. And then I wanted to include an "I like Lo Coco's Pizza" pin on there.

Whenever my father's restaurant was written up, they always wanted a photograph of our Lo Coco's special, which was pepperoni, artichoke heart, green onion, and anchovy, because it was such a pretty pizza—just aesthetically, it's just the colors.

So, I said it has to be the Lo Coco special on the front. So, last spring, I went into my boys' restaurant and made a pizza. My husband, who is actually a professional photographer, took the picture of the pizza.

There are many old family photos peppered throughout the book. They help tell the story.

 

You sprinkled pearls of wisdom from your father throughout the book. Can you share a couple?

Each chapter starts with something that my father used to tell me, using sayings or dictums instead of telling you straight what you need to do, like "You always leave the taste of honey in the mouth," meaning don't burn bridges.

 

Or "Be stupid inside and smart outside." My dad was of the philosophy that the world was out to get you, so you need to stick together.

 

How do you balance life's personal and professional aspects in your storytelling?

When I knew this book was complete and we were going to launch, I was overcome with a panic I did not expect to have when I started this process. It had been a pipe dream for so long, and now it was really happening. I was second-guessing myself. Maybe it's not good enough; maybe people will hate it; maybe my family will be upset.

 

This book is so different from my first few attempts. I was sort of all over the place—mingling dad stories with my own stories. After reviewing some of my work, my sister commented, "I don't hear your voice." She asked, "Is this about Dad, or is this about you?"

 

I didn't have much confidence in telling my story. I never even thought about that. But then I thought, well, actually, there is a lot to say and a lot to tell.

 

I didn't write the book to bash anybody, and I don't bash anyone. But sometimes, people, including myself, are not shown in a good light because if you're writing a memoir, you can't just talk about the good things; that's not realistic. Life is messy.

 

What do you hope that people take away from reading your book?

Well, I hope it humors and entertains people, and I hope it's relatable. I hope it reminds people to treat themselves with more kindness and forgiveness. We all have dark periods in our lives; we make mistakes. I strived to be very authentic and offer readers an intimate glimpse into the life of a Sicilian-American restaurant family. I introduced intriguing, fun characters, like my immigrant dad and my ex-husband.

 

There are so many misunderstandings about Sicily and Sicilians, and I hope this book helps Americans gain more appreciation for this place and its people whom I love so dearly. Finally, I hope that Secret Dough inspires people. As illustrated in the book, one can walk through a lot of crap and still come out smelling like a rose.

 

I hope it makes people laugh and feel many emotions. It's just a good, fun read.  

 

>>Get Secret Dough here!<<

 

 

 

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San Diego Celebrates its 87th Festa della Madonna Del Lume

Madonna del Lume, painted by Giacoma Lo Coco, for San Diego's Our Lady of the Rosary Parish

My grandparents came to the U.S. from the fishing village of Porticello, which is currently hosting festivities revolving around the legend of the Madonna del Lume, patroness and protector of the sea. The centuries-old celebration culminates in a grand procession of a legendary painting of the Madonna from Chiesa Di Maria Santissima Del Lume through the streets before it is loaded onto a fishing boat and paraded on the sea to a sacred shrine.  


While my grandparents settled in Milwaukee, a contingent of Porticello immigrants settled in California—mainly in San Francisco and San Diego, which have continued the tradition of Festa della Madonna del Lume and are each hosting events this weekend. 


I recently featured San Francisco's celebration. To learn more about San Diego's Festa, which takes place on Sunday, October 6, I reached out to Giuseppe Sanfilippo, a first-generation Italian-American and currently the President of the Madonna del Lume Society of Our Lady of the Rosary Parish in San Diego's Little Italy. 


Giuseppe's parents were born in Sicily and came to the U.S. from Porticello. We discussed how San Diego's Madonna del Lume Society started and impacted his personal life and connection to his Sicilian heritage. 

 

 

Tell us how San Diego's Madonna del Lume Society started.

The Madonna del Lume Society in San Diego was established in October 1937 by the families of Sicilian fishermen who originate from the fishing village of Porticello, Sicily. The Feast of the Madonna del Lume shares quite visibly with our community a tradition and a profound story of faith and hope. It is a story of the powerful intercession of the Madonna on behalf of a group of Sicilian fishermen who were tormented and cast off course by torrential storms at sea and faced the tragedy of perishing at sea. 


These seafaring men, although experienced at sea, were frightened, unsure, and desperate for guidance and safety to return to shore and embrace their families and community once more. It was in these moments of grave darkness and fear that God answered the faithful prayers of these fishermen, who had humbled themselves in complete trust and devotion to God. God answered their prayers with a glowing light illuminating the dark sky above.


As the wise men once followed the guiding star over Bethlehem to visit our newborn savior over 2,000 years ago, the Sicilian fishermen gratefully recognized and received God's blessing and answer to their prayers. They faithfully followed the glowing light shown above to guide them safely home again. 


Upon returning safely home, the fishermen continued to follow the mysterious guiding light above to a grotto near Porticello. Exploring the sea cave, they found a slab of marble bearing the Madonna's image. They carried it into town, but twice, it mysteriously returned to the grotto. The community decided to leave the image of the Madonna at the grotto and build a church on the spot to protect it. It is fervently believed in Sicily that the lives of hundreds of fishermen have been saved by the intervention of our Blessed Maria Santissima del Lume, Our Most Holy Mother of Light, the guardian and patroness of fishermen.

 

To this day, we continue to celebrate and honor the Madonna del Lume for her guidance and intercession in guiding fishermen safely home and into Christ's light. This story is for fishermen, but it is truly a story for all of us, wherever we are on our journey in life. It is a story of a return home, and it is also a story of a return to faith, a return to God. 


How many times in our lives, especially in these current times, have we been lost, confused, uncertain, or fearful? "Lost at sea," so to speak. Whether we are fishermen at sea, laborers on land, or workers at home, this story gives each of us hope that there is always a light, no matter how dark, and there is always faith, no matter how hopeless our situation is. This remembrance of the Madonna del Lume shows us how powerful Our Most Holy Mother's intercession is on our behalf as Christ's ambassador of light to each of us.

 

When some of the original fishermen began immigrating to the United States, they brought their traditions with them. They formed Madonna del Lume societies in Boston, Milwaukee, San Francisco, and San Diego. The Madonna del Lume Society of San Diego was first stationed at St. Joseph Cathedral on Third Avenue before moving to Our Lady of the Rosary in 1938. Today, the Society has reached over 250 members and continues to grow and preserve the traditions of those first fishermen.

 

Each October, over the last 87 years, after a solemn High Mass, a faithfully devoted group of men and women, old and young alike, and a young queen representing the Society, walk in a procession with the Vara of the Madonna del Lume from the OLR Church to the Embarcadero. There, the clergy sprinkles holy water on the boats, blessing all of the fishermen and praying for their protection from harm. He also asks for abbondanza in the catch. For the last 20-plus years, we have also had fireworks, a tradition carried from Porticello to celebrate the Madonna.

 

Today, in Porticello, Sicily, the Festa della Madonna del Lume is also still thriving. The Festa spans the full first week of October each year, and the entire municipality participates in the procession of La Madonna with fireworks and veneration of La Madonna at the original church of Madonna del Lume.


Traditionally, on the Monday of the feast, the sacred painting of the Madonna is taken down from the altar of the village church and processed throughout the town and its port. Devotees pack the sanctuary, hoping for an opportunity to touch and rub the painting on its way to the street to possess its healing and protective powers. It's a moving moment to experience.

 

This beautiful religious and cultural celebration has been passed on to many of our members through their families' Sicilian Catholic heritage and many years of community collaboration to keep this special tradition alive and vibrant in San Diego. Many members have learned from a young age about the purity, grace, and strength of our Most Holy Mother as our protective, loving, and most powerful ambassador of Christ in the midst of a challenging and often chaotic world. 

 

How does the Society engage with the broader community in San Diego?

We are one of several Marion Societies of Our Lady of the Rosary. We have joined together as one during the OLR Festa and have one procession. We are also active in the Italian American community and events that occur throughout the year. 

 

How has being part of the Madonna del Lume Society impacted your personal life and connection to your heritage?

I have a strong connection to the Madonna del Lume, and it has inspired me to be a true Catholic. I believe in the Catholic Faith and our Lord Jesus Christ, praying through the intercession of our Blessed Mother. 

 

What do you hope participants take away from Festa della Madonna del Lume?

Our Blessed Mother is the Light of the World who prays for us and leads us closer to Christ so that our children and youth find their way in life. This leads us all to God's grace and eternal life.  

 

 

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Madonna del Lume Connects Sicily and San Francisco Across Generations

San Francisco has celebrated Festa della Madonna del Lume for nearly nine decades.

The biggest event of the year in Porticello, Sicily, revolves around the legend of the Madonna del Lume, patroness of the seaside village and protector of the sea. Since the 18th century, the whole town has gathered for a traditional celebration, which includes a procession of a revered painting of Mary from Chiesa Di Maria Santissima Del Lume through the town before it is loaded onto a fishing boat and paraded on the sea with hundreds of other fishing boats to its sacred shrine. It's the main event of Festa della Madonna del Lume, which begins nine days before the first Sunday in October and features fireworks, food, and festivities. 


For 89 years, San Francisco has held its own two-day Festa della Madonna del Lume, an event started by immigrant women from Porticello, Sicily.

  
Saturday, October 5, includes a Mass at the Fishermen's and Seamen's Memorial Chapel, followed by a memorial flower ceremony at the sea to honor those lost or perished at sea. Sunday, October 6, includes Mass at Saint Peter and Paul Church, a procession from North Beach to Fisherman's Wharf, a ritual blessing of the fishing fleet, and other festivities.

 

Organized by La Società di Maria Santissima del Lume, founded by immigrant Sicilian women in 1935, the Festa is a time for families and friends to come together in memorial, prayer, thanks, and celebration.


I recently caught up with Christina Balistreri, a member of the Society's celebration committee. She and fellow committee members spend countless hours all year planning and preparing for the big event, which takes place the first weekend in October of each year. We chatted about the origins of San Francisco's Madonna del Lume Society and the differences and similarities between Porticello's Festa and San Francisco's. She also shared her hopes for attendees.

 

 

Tell us about your connection to Sicily.

My great-grandparents came to San Francisco from Sicily around 1890. My great-grandmother was an Alitio from Porticello, and my great-grandfather was a Balistreri from Sant'Elia, just down the road from Porticello. Both families carried the traditional profession of pescatore (fishermen) to America, where many settled in San Francisco's Wharf, known then as "Meiggs Wharf," to become fishermen. This profession was passed down through many generations of the Sicilian families that came to San Francisco. During this time, many Sicilian fishing families were concentrated in this area.

 

My nonno (grandfather) was a fisherman here for 59 years. His boat was parked in front of Scomas, and as a child, I would regularly go with my father as he worked on it. I have many great memories of playing on the piers and jumping on and off the different Monterey boats. Sadly, my Great-grandfather Salvatore Balistreri lost his life here on the San Francisco Bay while fishing.

 

Fishing is all our family has ever known. The Sicilian community was a tight-knit community where everyone was famiglia. It is funny because we still connect with each other at many of our events and figure out how we are related. Most of us are convinced we are related in some way or another. 

 

My great-grandmother and her sisters were very involved in the Madonna del Lume Society, helping keep the tradition alive and preserving the ancient tradition the Sicilian community brought when many emigrated here in the late 1800s and early 1900s. The tradition and participation in the Madonna Del Lume have also been passed down for many generations for many of the current committee members. Many of the current celebration committee members come from very instrumental families in the Sicilian community at the Wharf, and some are even direct descendants of the original members listed on the bylaws from 1938. 

How did San Francisco's Madonna del Lume Society start?

It was officially on the books in 1938, but the celebration started in 1935. When they got the organization together, they established the nonprofit religious organization and registered it with the city of San Francisco. The original members were women from Porticello who came here.

 

The instrumental women who established the organization here in San Francisco were Carmela Cresci, Anna Auteri, Margherita Carini, Rosalia Alioto, Teresa Mercurto, Antonia Papia, Maria Crivello, and Paola Sanfilippo. Many of the women's husbands and family members were fishermen here in the Wharf, all from the little town of Porticello. 

 

Today, some of the influential families invested in preserving this tradition include Alioto, Asciutto, Baccari, Balistreri, Battaglia, Cannizzaro, Castagnola, Corona, Cresci, Crivello, D' Amato, Dorio-Wraa, Lavin, Lo Coco, Raineri, Sanfilippo, and Tarantino.

 

This organization is more than just a religious organization; it has a powerful social and cultural aspect that embodies the well-being of all of its members and the Sicilian Community as a whole. 


The first bylaw in the founding documents states, "To promote and encourage a spirit of religion, sociability, and friendship among its members; to celebrate once a year a special feast in honor of the Madonna Del Lume; to gather together for that purpose; to manage and conduct entertainments, picnics, and social gatherings of its members; and to advance their mental, moral, and religious welfare." 


When the Sicilians arrived in San Francisco, there was a lot of strife in Fisherman's Wharf. Many did not speak English, which was hard. It was a really hard life for them to make the voyage from the other side of the world and make a new life here while trying their best to hold on to their culture and traditions. I think the Madonna Del Lume was really instrumental in keeping tradition going, encouraging positivity and a sense of community and belonging. 

San Francisco's Festa della Madonna del Lume is patterned after Porticello's. Tell us about that.

In 1777, fishermen were lost at sea, and they prayed to the Madonna, who shone a light down where they needed it to guide them back safely to the shore. So that's kind of part of it. The other piece is the painting. When the fishermen returned, the Madonna painting was found stuck in their fishing nets. There's another legend about a Jesuit priest, Father Giovanni Antonio Genovesi. The Madonna guided him to paint it as she wanted it. 

 

We have a symbolic relic that we call the "Vara." This relic represents the sacred painting of the Madonna and holds a lot of significance. It is carried on the shoulders of the carriers while music is played with drums. The Vara is processed around Porticello, and everyone tries to touch it and prays to the Madonna. It is a very emotional event where people cry out to the Madonna. The chant is "Viva, Madonna Del Lume, Viva!" It is then placed on a fishing boat, which travels to the Madonna Del Lume altar 15 minutes by boat up the coast. The shrine is beautifully situated on the top of Capo Zafferano, overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea.

 

In Porticello, the celebration lasts for nearly two weeks. There are daily activities, and the celebration ends with an impressive fireworks display at the port of Santa Nicolicchia. Throughout the year, the local fishermen return from fishing and make generous donations to ensure a grand celebration every October. It's for the Madonna so that she may continue to guide and protect them. So, by the time the year passes, they will have the money to put into this big celebration. It is really big, and the whole town attends and participates.

 

Our committee members have talked about going on a voyage to Sicily together. But it would be hard for us all to go to the celebration in Porticello because we need to plan and attend our celebration here. 

 

Describe San Francisco's two-day event.

Saturday, we have a mass at the Fishermen's and Seamen's Memorial Chapel on Fisherman's Wharf. It's a newer chapel built in 1981. All religions are welcome. On the walls are gold plaques bearing the names of the men and women who have dedicated their lives to the sea and the Wharf. You can also find the names of the founders of the Madonna Del Lume. It is a true gem hidden in plain sight.  


We go there, have Mass, pray, and then go on a ferry boat, the Red and White Fleet. We walk over to the Red and White as a group and embark on our journey, where we honor the lives lost at sea. 


Sadly, only a few active Sicilian fishing boats (mostly Monterey Boats) are left on the Wharf. The remaining " Montereys " fleet comes and follows us, which is really fun. The San Francisco Fireboat joins us, too. We go under the Golden Gate Bridge and stop just on the other side. The priest leads us in prayer, and we have a moment of silence while the names of all those who lost their lives at sea are read out loud. We then say, "Viva, Madonna Del Lume, Viva!" and throw wreaths and loose flowers, usually a lot of carnations, into the water while the fireboat sprays water up into the sky as a horn is sounded. This is a very emotional moment for many members and the attendees. 

 

We take a nice long ride back on the Bay to the docks, passing Angel Island and Alcatraz. It is a time for memory and reflection as we pass through the waters where many of our ancestors spent many years. After we return to shore, the day is over, and we go home and rest for the next day. Many committee members have lunch on the Wharf with family and friends at local eateries, and some head to Saints Peter and Paul Church to prepare for the second day of the celebration.  


On Sunday, members, family, and friends meet at Saints Peter and Paul Church in North Beach for Sunday mass. We have a coronation ceremony in which a queen is crowned for the upcoming year. The existing queen passes off the crown, and then the queen, her court, and the family march around the church led by the Carabinieri (The local Italian police squad). We have a chapter here in San Francisco. My dad's cousin is one; they all dress in official uniforms, including hats and flags. They've got their flags and lead the Vara that carries the painting around the church.

 

When Mass is done, everyone exits the church, stands on the steps for a group photo, and heads down to the hall under the church for the spuntino. We have small bites to eat and prepare for the procession down to Fisherman's Wharf. Once we are ready, we line up behind the float, usually parked in front of the church. We process the Vara and special flags along with a marching band. There is also a cable car on wheels for members and attendees who may have difficulty walking the whole way.


We go all the way down to Fisherman's Wharf, back at the pier, where the Fisherman and Seamen's Chapel is located. The priest blesses the fishing boats remaining there. Members usually leave from there or take the cable car back up to North Beach.

 

In the early evening, we come back together and have a big dinner at the Italian Athletic Club. We have raffle prizes and enjoy a meal together, a big part of Sicilian and Italian culture.  

 

What do you eat?

For the spuntino, we usually have a lot of cookies and cold cuts. So, many of our members will bake homemade recipe cookies and bring them, along with cold cuts and cheeses. They can also make little panini (sandwiches) and little salads. I'm going to make a tomato and onion salad this year and some biscotti or almond torrone, a classic Sicilian dessert. 

 

So, for the big Sunday Family dinner, we'll serve a fixed menu of either beef, salmon, or a veggie. Of course, there's always pasta, antipasti, desserts, cookies, and spumoni ice cream. Food is one of the focal points of our culture, so attendees can be sure they will be nice and full once dinner is done. 


I personally have a very strong feeling about keeping this special tradition going and as close to the original customs as possible. It's hard because our Sicilian community is dwindling here in San Francisco. There are not as many Sicilian families as there once were. We welcome anyone from the Italian community, friends, and family who cherish our traditions and culture. Keeping in the realm of tradition and culture, we welcome anybody to be part of our Festa and enjoy our special tradition. Sharing our tradition, culture, and customs is important, and we are so happy to keep this part of our history alive and teach others about it.

 

What do you hope people take away from participating in the Festa?

The sense of community supporting each other and specifically carrying on the Sicilian traditions and culture, particularly the patron saint of the fishermen. For the Madonna, we carry it on and continue to pray to her for her guidance for the people still in the fishing industry, all the families involved over the years, and most importantly, for those who have lost their lives at sea. 

We hope that people will come to be part of it year after year. We are determined to keep this tradition going and foster its growth. We invite everyone to come, enjoy, remember, and celebrate with us. This unique and rich experience and tradition are very special to us, and we want to share them with everyone. "Viva, Madonna Del Lume, Viva!" 

 

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Remembering Nonna and Nonno

My grandparents, Concetta and Gaetano Agnello, on their wedding day

My author journey started with an interest in the story of my Sicilian grandparents, my Nonna and Nonno, who were separated during World War II but found their way back to one another. I wrote about it as a student in Los Angeles's popular Writing Studio class, where teacher Elana Golden encouraged me to pursue novel writing.

 

Nonna was about seventeen years old when she and her family moved from Porticello, Sicily, to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in the late 1930s. They sailed aboard the legendary Rex, which appears in Federico Fellini's Oscar-winning Amarcord

 

Once settled in Wisconsin, Nonna worked as a seamstress at a garment factory called Junior House. During the war, Franklin D. Roosevelt established the War Production Board, which converted factories of peacetime industries into manufacturing plants for military equipment. And Nonna and her fellow Junior House seamstresses transitioned to sewing parachutes. 

 

My Nonno, the son of a tabaccheria owner, remained in Sicily until Italy joined the war on June 10, 1940. As a soldier in the Italian Army, he was stationed in Cagliari, Sardinia, the site of a series of Allied bombings. In later years, he said little about his military involvement but asserted that his loyalty was to King Victor Emmanuel III

 

I found their stories fascinating, particularly the fact that their love could survive the time and distance apart. As I continued writing, the story evolved. It was no longer about Concetta and Gaetano Agnello but instead about two fictional characters named Concetta Balistreri and Gaetano Alioto. That tale is woven into The Last Letter from Sicily, a historical novel that sheds light on the Sicilian experience during World War II. And now I look forward to sharing it with you!

 

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