After six months of conspiring to surprise my father, Mario, in his birthplace of Sant’Andrea Apostolo dello Ionio, a medieval town overlooking the Ionian coast of Calabria, the final stage was set. It was late June, before the summer crowds made their pilgrimage to enjoy the white beaches of the crystal-clear Gulf of Squillace along with the delicious fresh food and laidback lifestyle of southern Italy. My daughters, Charlotte, 18, and Catie, 17, and I were en route to meet Dad and my co-conspirator and stepmother, Roberta, as well as Dad’s brother, Bruno, and Uncle Bruno’s wife, JoAnn. This was …