Salvatore Lezza held on firmly to those recipes when he set up shop in Chicago in 1905. He teamed up with his cousin and opened the Ferrara Lezza Co. in the Taylor Street neighborhood, creating confections, cakes, authentic cannoli and uniquely genuine spumoni that would become his legacy.

Squeezed out of the city by the University of Illinois expansion, the company moved to Bellwood in the 1960s. Known back then as Victor Lezza and Son and today as Lezza Spumoni and Desserts, the business has achieved a nationwide reputation for excellence.

Ever mindful of the past, third-generation President Ed Lezza continues to uphold the family tradition, inspired no doubt by the applause that has been resounding over the decades since Lezza spumoni was served in the Italian pavilion at the 1933 Chicago World’s Fair. In more recent years, Lezza products have been hailed by the Chicago Tribune, Food Industry News and Entrepreneur magazine, and their spumoni earned its own page in the book, “The Very Best Ice Cream and Where to Find It.”

Lezza products are distributed to grocery chains, specialty stores and summer festivals around the Midwest, and to nationally-franchised restaurants as far away as Hawaii. Still, Ed never strays far from the headquarters at 4001-09 St. Charles Road in Bellwood, where his father greeted the walk-in customers in a retail space that was recently remodeled to accommodate bigger displays to showcase their mouth-watering specialties.

One of those specialties is that gem of the St. Joseph Table, zeppole. As Jeanne Francesconi wrote in La Cucina Napoletana, “San Giuseppe is the day for zeppole. The pastry shops and friggitore (fried food stands) churn them out in astonishing quantity, for eating zeppole on March 19th is another of those traditions that must be observed. Despite their size, everyone eats at least two or three, or even four, because the sweet, delicate pasta bigne, flavored with a hint of cream and one or two bits of candied cherry, is so good and goes down so smoothly.”

Recipes for zeppole are as varied as the customs in each village in Italy. Francesconi’s research concludes that this is the oldest tradition of zeppole: “Made from a flour and water dough that’s fried and dusted with sugar and powdered cinnamon or dipped in honey. It’s known that this traditional version was quite ancient. It’s also known that on March 19th they were made by the ton in pastry shops and frying stalls as well as at home.”

Lezza’s version is legendary. Soft, airy and filled with custard cream and topped with a maraschino cherry, these Lezza-fresh zeppole create customer chaos among suburban Italian Americans who know that they are available but once each year.

At Lezza’s, they are made exactly the way Ed’s grandfather wrote down in a “little book that he kept,” filled with handwritten notes and recipes, carefully detailed with dates. “These are the zeppole we grew up on,” reflected Ed, “and obviously a lot of others did, too. People who come in won’t hesitate to tell us, ‘This is exactly how we remember them.’ One local businessman buys 200 each year to share with everyone in his office.”

For more than a century, the Lezza family has never once deviated from Salvatore’s high standards and fresh ingredients. At one time, that was enough to distinguish the business from the rest. Today, rigid on-site testing by the American Baking Institute yielded a coveted rating of “Excellent” for Lezza Spumoni & Desserts. After days of white coats and flashlights, the Lezzas implemented further advanced manufacturing, calibration and documentation procedures that give the Bellwood company even greater credence in the wholesale industry.

The Lezza family has cherry-topped more zeps than they could ever count. Despite the inevitable automation within their Bellwood plant — where 160 gallons of ice cream are produced each hour and 16,000 cannoli are packaged every Monday and Thursday like clockwork — it is undoubtedly the spirit of the white-aproned Salvatore Lezza that still guides the business.

From the Middle Age, when prayers to end a severe drought were answered, St. Joseph’s Day has been a day of generosity and kindness. Zeppole are made to be shared, and for those who cherish the tradition, Lezza Spumoni & Desserts is a prayer answered as well.

And finally, for the first time in generations, there is a Joseph in the Lezza family — born on Sept. 24, 2011 — who will surely be initiated with a lick of zeppole this year!

Praying with the chain, I boldly asked for miracles for friends and relatives; at the same time, I am reminded in these days before Christmas that I hardly resemble that little kid who folded the corners of practically every other page in the Sears Wish Book. My adult wish list has become more pathetic with each passing year as there really isn’t much that I want. I may not be rich but I am blessed in many ways and those really are the greatest gifts of all.

Every day, every month, as I travel the western suburbs gathering news for Neighbors Magazine, I am in awe of all the people and stories that surround us — some are outstanding stories of generosity or perseverance; some just stand out by the example of their lives, their compassion, their legacy of decency and family in a world buckling under the burden of bad news and tragedies. There’s not much any of us can do about the situation in Yemen or Libya but I am reminded that there is more that I can do here every time I drive down St. Charles Road in Bellwood/Berkeley or Des Plaines Avenue in North Riverside or Wolf Road in Northlake.

We are changed by neighbors like Joe Gentile, “Baron of Barrington” because he was a car salesman extraordinaire and hometown radio station patriot and he provided a platform for incredible local talent like John DeVita, Bill Jaconetti, Vittorio Giustino, Tony Arredia, Joe Johnson and many others to reach tens of thousands of listeners via WJJG AM-1530. An outspoken Joe Gentile might have gotten the dial tone when calling into another radio station but when he purchased Elmhurst’s WKDC-AM he not only gave the world a piece of his mind but he gave countless charities and causes a shot in the arm. From his office/studio located in Berkeley, Joe made listeners cringe and he also made things happen — spotlighting his alma maters St. Ignatius College Prep, University of Notre Dame and his service in the U.S. Navy during World War II. His was a “red, white and blue” radio station and I was proud to be on the air with him several times promoting local businesses, local traditions and local heroes. God bless Joe Gentile, born with nothing, worked for everything and proud to be an American more than anything else.

Minutes away from Villa Gentile, I find constant inspiration from Jack at Gioacchino’s Ristorante, who would rather exhaust himself making his own bread and sausage, growing his own acre of herbs and vegetables than have it any other way. His work ethic amazes me. Like Gentile, Jack never had a silver spoon or an easy political job. Both men exude decency and perseverance, never accepting welfare or an easy pension. Another inspiration is just down the road from here, behind the counter at Lezza Spumoni & Desserts. Ed Lezza, Sr. and his family have held down the fort–and the dream–of his grandfather, Salvatore, and father, Victor, with an integrity rarely found in corporate America today. Innovative ideas for new products married traditional pastries and desserts that are nearly obsolete are a match made in heaven. A rare four generations of charitable and support and a legacy of familial dedication are a needle in this world’s haystack but a veritable blessing in our suburban lives.

To the north and south of these, a few others come to mind. Many area senior citizens were just teens and tweens when they were recruited by their elders to work spaghetti dinners and fundraisers for the Rev. Armando Pierini, C.S., to support his dream of founding a home for the elderly. While famous entertainers did their part, it was the average person who worked in booths, sold the tickets and served at events that made Villa Scalabrini possible. This year, the landmark at 480 N. Wolf Road in Northlake marks its 60th year. Fr. Pierini’s legacy of undertaking formidable tasks is an integral part of our community, including the Villa, Fra Noi and the Italian radio program L’Ora Cattolica. A small, unpretentious man on a mission — how many of us know first-hand the refuge and comfort of “the Villa” and the blessing it has been in our lives and the lives of those we love?

And when it comes to leaving an impression on tens of thousands of people, we need only look to Westchester and Melrose Park as this year the Missionary Sisters of St. Charles Borromeo Provincial Guild honored Man and Woman of the Year John and Mary Scalera and presented the Frank A. Mungo In Memoriam Award to Vincent Laraia. All honorees synonymous with incredible food and huge, unforgettable events, few have done more to put St. Joseph Tables on the map and their hearts and souls on the line than Mary and John Scalera, behind the scenes boiling water and serving up a centuries-old tradition, inspiring people from all walks of life to look to the earthly father of Jesus and the patron saint of working people.

What Mary and John did for the month of March, Vince Laraia did for Labor Day weekend. Just a regular guy, your average neighbor full of interesting ideas, Vince and a small committee brainstormed the first Taste of Melrose Park back in 1981. The Labor Day weekend festival that started with some local restaurants lined up on 25th Avenue like a village block party became a statewide blockbuster recognized as the second best Taste in Illinois behind the Taste of Chicago. What a gift, not just for patrons seeking an affordable and family-oriented event, but the Taste introduced local talent, local cooks and local non-profits to a venue that changed their lives and uplifted an entire community.

Yes, I really do think of these people and many others, like my mailman who has walked the same route for more than three decades, as gifts. Just like the Gift of the Magi has nothing to do with Neiman Marcus, these ordinary people and their extraordinary lives are gifts to us, reminders that a plummeting Dow Jones, political corruption, the national debt and the chaos all around us are hardly as memorable a message as the little drummer boy.

As Antoine de Saint-Exupery wrote in the classic “The Little Prince”: “Here is my secret. It is very simple: It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Recent years have been no exception. Sociology and Criminology Department Chair Dr. Janice Monti has blazed yet another trail, albeit a dustier one, much closer to home: The Delta Blues Tour. The only northern school to offer this kind of civil rights and blues experiential learning activity, Monti has escorted seven groups of students and one alumni group into the deep South.

The five-day trip from Chicago to Memphis takes in the pulse of the Delta by way of the arteries of the Heartland — Highways 61 and 49. Merging a musical emancipation for blues, R&B, soul, gospel and early rock-and-roll with an earthy education of the culture and issues of the South, Monti’s tour is an extrasensory outdoor classroom. “All Americans owe a great debt to African-American music,” explains Monti. “Understanding the music, however, entails an understanding of the economic and social conditions out of which the music came.”

Literal soul-searching fuels the tour, the way the combustibles of the heart and hard knocks ignited the stages of smoky juke joints infused with stinging guitars and hot-handed harmonicas. “The Delta Blues Tour trip is for anyone who grew up with this music, has an interest in civil rights or who is simply adventurous and wants to do something off the beaten path,” says Monti, who is also director of Dominican’s tremendously successful Blues and Spirit Symposium.

It is a profound journey that begins at the National Museum of Civil Rights in Memphis; it is also a sharecroppers journey that includes an eye-opening one-night stay at the Hopson Plantation where, according to the Hopson Preservation Company, over 1 million families were responsible for the plodding labor required to produce over 22 million acres of cotton. “It’s here at Hopson, in the shacks (now converted into rustic lodging) where whole families were raised. I think the meaning of it all is crystallized: the death knell for Jim Crow, the mechanization of cotton picking which eliminated the need for sharecropping and precipitated the exodus of rural blacks into the cities of St. Louis, Chicago and Detroit. Most people don’t realize that 80 percent of Chicago’s African-American population have their roots in the Delta,” stresses Monti.

Joining the professor at the legendary “crossroads” is ethnographer Tad Pierson, owner of American Dream Safari. Since 1989, Person has been illuminating the mysterious deep South for travelers, providing insight into the language and historical perspectives with gritty know-how and familiarity.

Combined with Monti’s extensive academic research, the two are able to provide a veritable feast of soul food for thought that overwhelms the mind and heart via the senses: the wafting smell of hot dinner biscuits, the sight of dilapidated and impoverished towns, the expansive classroom of cotton fields and the text-less touch of the boll of a bygone era, the clues in the lyrics of the blues standards in jukes like the Po’ Monkey: “You may bury my body down by the highway side, So my old evil spirit can catch a Greyhound bus and ride.”

The grave sites of influential bluesman Robert Johnson and the ghost of Memphis Minnie; the ballad-famous Tallahatchie River that shrouded the murdered body of Chicago-born Emmett Till; the stunning silence of the Lorraine Motel where Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated; the grandeur of Graceland; the hallowed halls of Sun Records (whose owner Sam Phillips discovered Elvis Presley in 1954) and Stax (The Museum of American Soul Music) where the careers of Otis Redding and Isaac Hayes were launched; the studios of Delta Broadcasting’s KFFA 1360 AM in Helena, Arkansas, home of the longest-running daily radio show in the world, “King Biscuit Time,” hosted by Sonny Payne are all in the tour’s virtual course syllabus.

The students earn three hours of credit and, prior to the trip, are required to attend workshops and prepare assignments based on readings and an extensive set of southern soul, gospel and blues music. To receive full credit and a grade, they must submit a research project at the end of the trip that connects what they have seen and participated in (the experiential part of the course) with what they have read and learned about the legacy of blues, the great migration and the origins of the Civil Rights movement (the more traditional academic content).

Part of the academic background for this trip focuses on race and lynching. One of the first recorded cases of lynching in the south, in Louisiana, involved Sicilian immigrants as the victims. “Clearly, Italians and other immigrants were not considered “white” until the early decades of the 20th century especially so in the Delta, where Italians as well as blacks and Chinese were all engaged in sharecropping and faced very difficult conditions,” explained Professor Monti.

And if he’s not on tour, Monti’s pilgrims culminate at the Full Gospel Tabernacle Church of recording artist Al Green, where there is no shortage of adrenaline, the congregation is on its feet and the choir is unstoppable.

For more information on the tour or the upcoming May 2012 Blues and Spirit Symposium, contact Dr. Janice Monti at Dominican University at 708-524-6771or send an email inquiry to janicemb@dom.edu.

Locally, the West Town Museum of Cultural History at 104 S. 5th Avenue in Maywood has been the repository for archives relating to Black History in Maywood and the western suburbs dating back to 1857. Its archives feature a pictorial exhibit of the Ten-Mile Freedom House, which was the Maywood site of the Underground Railroad in the 1880s for runaway slaves. For more information on touring the Museum, contact Mrs. Northica Stone at 708-343-3554.

If you think its butter but it’s not, it’s Chiffon. In that part of my brain that stockpiles all useless trivia, I still remember this commercial from the 1970s that featured Mother Nature getting fooled… and not liking it, so she angrily summoned up some lightning and thunder to make her point. I realize that Oscar Wilde was right on the money when he said, “Conversation about the weather is the last refuge of the unimaginative.” How true. But Wilde was spared the concepts and drama of global warming, doppler radar and the 24/7 Weather Channel. He probably just looked out the window and acted accordingly.

Today, however, the wrath being unleashed by Mother Nature seems unparalleled. Tsunamis, typhoons, monsoons, hurricanes, tornadoes, dust storms, drought, flash flooding, microbursts, squalls, earthquakes and volcanoes seem as relentless as the seventh plague that God inflicted on the Egyptians. And we are no better at predicting weather now than the Babylonians and Chinese were before Christ. The only thing I can count on most days is my trusty Galileo thermometer and a quick look up at the sky. As they referred to the forensic tools used in the Casey Anthony trial, I have come to believe that weather — meteorology — is no more than junk science. Thunder might as well be angels bowling and the moon made out of cheese because I have had keener predictions from a fortune cookie than I’ve had from any weatherperson pointing out bogus isobars and brightly-colored cold fronts on the green screen while slyly hiding the remote control in the palm of their hand. At the end of every forecast, it’s the same graphic: part of a sun, a cloud and a few drops — all bases sufficiently covered.

We certainly can’t spend our days worrying about the weather, although the regular severity of it concerns me lately. We rarely have a storm that is perfect for a nap or just enough to water the garden anymore without worrying about our sump pumps and carpeting and Christmas decorations floating in the basement or a power outage to complicate matters even further so we could trash the spoiled food that was expensive to buy in the first place. Sunny days are now oppressive, with humidity and a heat index that prompt health warnings; snowfalls require gas-powered equipment and plows instead of brooms and plastic shovels. And all of the above involve insurance and credit cards and time off from work and considerable stress and sleepless nights because predicting is just pure foolishness. Junk science.

There are moments when I truly believe Mother Nature is trying to tell us something or pointing a mean finger at us for abusing the planet. And then, there are other moments when the weather actually brings us together in ways that would have never occurred to us otherwise. Such as these Nolan scholars from Guerin Prep High School in River Grove who recently worked with Habitat for Humanity, the random acts of kindness among neighbors sharing generators and folks checking on the elderly neighbors during this summer’s intense heat. E.B. White wrote: “Weather is a great bluffer. I guess the same is true of our human society — things can look dark, then a break shows in the clouds, and all is changed.”

Licensing problems and a little buyer’s remorse kept Mickey from driving his dream to the suburbs, but it opened the door for his wife, who, while raising the first two of their four children — Mickey Jr. and Annette — had been working on Maxwell Street on weekends to make extra money. The old A&W shack that Jimmy bought on Mannheim Road in Bellwood may have stalled as a car lot but it was perfect for the woman who was often inspired by Taylor Street’s food and lemonade vendors and dreamed of having her own hot dog cart.

The Sangiacomo Family has owned and operated Mickey’s on Mannheim in Bellwood for more than half a century.

Naming the business after her husband and launching it with help from a neighbor and friend, Jimmy Faruggia of the Original Jimmy’s Hot Dogs, Ann got busy doling out hot dogs, fries and a drink combos for just 37 cents. A tin cookie can served as her cash register and a jar on the side collected coins to pay the taxes. “We really roughed it,” said Annette Martens, the oldest of the Sangiacomo children.

When Mickey’s Drive-In opened on May 5, 1959, Annette was 14 and Mickey Jr. wasn’t far behind, but Al was only 3-1/2 and Frank, the youngest, was just 6 months old and napped under the counter. Ann Sangiacomo put in 16-18 hour days with her children literally by her side. Mickey Jr. and Annette, with help from their aunt, worked the counter after school. “There were no paychecks then,” said Mickey, who looks back on the series of cycles and changes the business went through over the last half-century.

Mickey’s Drive in, back in the day.

Ann’s idea, work ethic and success prompted the family to branch out and try several other locations over the years: one on Cass and Ogden, another at 53rd and Maple and yet another at Adams and Des Plaines in the city. Mickey Jr. operated his own store in Addison for nearly 30 years before closing and Annette is still going strong at her Villa Park site. For Al Sangiacomo, now an attorney, the failed locations were not exactly unsuccessful. “We just can’t teach other people how to do what we did exactly the way we did it. Others have done great with it, but not us. We’re too hands-on and have never been able to make that transition.”

And the Sangiacomo family is comfortable with that realization — it is an observation that has contributed to their longevity. The groundwork firmly established by their mother has proven to be their port in the storms of changing economic times, tremendous competition, including franchises that utilize internet and high-tech service.

Mickey Jr. believes that customers have always appreciated seeing the food being made and not wondering what they’re getting or what would be in the bag when they got home. For Annette, doing what her mother always did, having one person take, make, bring and ring the order was an integral part of customer satisfaction and loyalty.

As for Frank, his mother instilled in him to do whatever it takes. “Whatever it is, just do it. If you have to mop the floor, mop it. That’s why we’re still here. We never forgot what our mother taught us and marking our 52nd year is as much a tribute to her as it is a celebration for our customers. We’re not going anywhere. This is what we do and we owe a huge debt of gratitude to the people who have patronized us — a lot of people. In fact, generations of people.”

Al couldn’t agree more. “I believe a lot of our customers appreciate the continuity of people who run the place. One of us is always here and our staff has been amazing. Like extended family.” Mayor Frank Pasquale is especially proud that Mickey’s is located in his community. “Mickey’s is a cornerstone of Bellwood and they’ve shown staying power, that’s for sure. I’m especially impressed with how they’ve carried on the tradition of their mother, of their commitment to the Village and their excellent product and personal service,” he says.

The family can’t help but look back at times, especially at their 30th anniversary when a 25 cent hot dog promotion resulted in a 12-hour line around the corner down St. Paul Avenue; news coverage from Channels 2, 5 and 7; emergency Vienna Beef and bakery deliveries; and 14,000 hot dogs and 6,000 drinks sold by day’s end. Few things have changed since Ann Sangiacomo signed for her loan. There are still no tables or chairs and no website and Mickey Jr. still makes the meatballs and cooks the beef.

“This is the true definition of a successful mom and pop store,” insists Frank. “This place is a piece of Americana. The American dream lives right here.”

Check out the Mickey’s Facebook page or call 547-7866 for hours and directions.

Located inside Casa San Carlo Retirement Community, 420 N. Wolf Road in Northlake, the National Borsato Museum is a familiar site for staff and the nearly 200 residents.

 “We feel it is such a treasure that the public should know that it’s here. Not only is it the only one in the area, but it is one of the largest collections by far,” said Sr. Elizabeth Trem, CSFN, Executive Director of Casa San Carlo, who is always excited about welcoming the community to view the collection, which includes 107 of the best pieces ever sculpted by Antonio Borsato. When Casa San Carlo was owned by Catholic Charities, it received a gift of 104 Borsato pieces from the Museum’s founder, Northlake-based attorney Favil David Berns and the Museum was officially opened in August 1990. At that time, Berns was quoted as saying, “The Borsatos are artistic works of love and needed a good home. What more suitable home is there for Italian sculpture?” The late Cardinal Bernardin blessed all of the artwork at the dedication, attended by more than 1,000 people.

“People are always welcome to come to see the Museum,” added Sr. Elizabeth. “We are open seven days a week and someone is always here that can show them the Museum.” While appointments are preferred, anytime is the perfect opportunity to celebrate the gift of Borsato’s intricate and expressive work as well as the gift of Berns’ great generosity. A wide selection of subject matter is represented, from street vendors to inspirational religious themes, including the Annunciation, the Stations of the Cross, the Piety and Moses (displayed on the first floor of the Casa). Several of the original tools used by Antonio Borsato are also on display within the Museum.

Borsato, born in 1911, studied at the Academy of Fine Arts in Venice and began developing his own techniques while working mainly on religious themes, such as the Madonna and Child and Nativity sets. At his studio in Milan, he began to create his statuary from a combination of soft porcelain and stoneware known as gres. Through this process, Borsato was able to accentuate great detail in the faces, hair and fingers of his subjects. When these new creations were displayed at the Milan Trade Fair in 1949, the public was not impressed — perhaps because they were unfamiliar with such intricacy. But the export market put Borsato’s inimitable talent on the map and his work became sought after in the United States.

Focused on mastering his techniques, he continued creating in porcelain and perfecting the porcelain process. By 1980, Borsato’s name had become well-known by admirers of Hummel, Dresden, Meissen. With the rise of his popularity came the construction of a new factory in Milan, outgrowing his small studio and requiring the help of his wife and daughter. Tragically, as Borsato reached this high point in his career, he died in an auto accident in 1982, leaving 700 models of porcelain pieces and approximately 200 models of his older gres figures. His wife, daughter, son-in-law and grandchild continued his work to honor his legacy.

“The National Borsato Museum is a best-kept secret but we’re intent on sharing it. It’s just one more thing to love about the Casa,” added Sr. Elizabeth, who jumped at the opportunity to serve as Executive Director. “When I received the invitation to accept this assignment, I took it readily because the Casa is such a beautiful place in so many ways. From the grounds, to art pieces throughout the building, to the Museum, to the lovely residents,” everyone is amazed by Casa San Carlo.

Anyone who is interested can arrange a tour of the museum by calling 708-562-4300.

It had been too long since I had savored the early-morning calm at my alma mater Rosary College (now Dominican University) in River Forest. Waiting for Luisa Scala-Buehler to arrive, a veritable floodgate of undergraduate memories opened, as they usually do when I am at Dominican. I try to always take a moment to bask in the glow of epic experiences and magnanimous moments on that campus that would provide the moral compass for the rest of my career … and life. Little did I know that while our paths had never crossed before and 10 long years separated our graduations from Rosary College, mystery writer Luisa Scala-Buehler would share a story that was eerily like my own — complete with an undying gratitude to the Dominican Sisters who, as composites, are characters in her first book, “The Rosary Bride.”

Luisa Scala-Buehler visits with the owners of Luurs Garden & Flower Shoppe in Hillside.

Upon her arrival, Buehler, too, took a few seconds to breathe in the air around the ivied cloister and the quadrangle that first endeared the campus to her. “After my sister-in-law began studying at Rosary, I came here with her. I knew immediately this is where I wanted to go. I went home and told my Italian father that I wanted to go to college and he said simply, “You don’t have to go to college. You’re a girl.”

Her penchant for writing began at two Hillside schools — St. Domitilla Grade School and, although exceedingly proficient in the secretarial program at Proviso West High School, Luisa was hell-bent against following in the footsteps of her classmates and cousins marching off to steno pools and beauty schools. “I knew I was destined for college and this was the only place I wanted to come. I knew somehow that Rosary was the place that would help me evolve past where I knew my life was going to go if I didn’t go to college. In my mind, this is the place I had to be to get to the next level.”

After earning her B.A. in English, Luisa all but assumed the Chicago Sun-Times would promptly hire her and launch writing career. To her surprise, she was promptly assigned to taking classified ads over the phone. She was eventually promoted to outside sales, admitting that, while she fast became a capitalist and pursued a career in sales, she never lost the desire to write — but the short stories and poetry she penned were clearly not enough to pay the bills.

Working full time, Luisa held firm to the lofty idea that one day soon she would leave her job, earn a master’s degree in library science, work in a library and, in due time, buy a bookstore. That chapter of her life as well took an unexpected turn.

When she and her husband, Gerry, excitedly learned they were expecting their first child, Luisa was presented with yet another reality check. “There would be no grad school, no library job and no bookstore — but I am going to write a book,” she pledged to herself.

Taking a day off of work here and there, never disclosing her whereabouts to anyone, Luisa made herself comfortable once again in a place where she had spent hours studying and wondering: the Rosary library. “The book literally began while I was studying for an anatomy test. My mind wandered to the fireplace and I became consumed with why it wasn’t lit. Why isn’t a fire going? Is it stopped up with something? In the end, the skeleton from Anatomy class and my fascination with the fireplace became the foundation for the book. I started writing it in long hand, sitting in the old library in front of that fireplace where, in the book, a body is discovered.”

Filling countless yellow legal pads of paper with ideas related to solving a 50-year old murder mystery, cutting and pasting and scribbling arrows in the margins next to more glued-on notes, Luisa began her book, keeping it to herself to avoid the inevitable nagging question: “How’s the book coming?”

With the advent of the computer, Luisa’s overwhelming compilation of paper resulted in a book that took five years to write — and rewrite — many times over. “Writing is a solitary sport and no one can help you or hear the voices in your head,” Luisa lamented. Crediting the Lisle Library Writer’s Group and the River-Oaks Writer’s Group for breaking her grip on the manuscript she had struggled with and anguished over but hated to let go of, Buehler is grateful for the all-important feedback gained from the groups and still faithfully attends whenever possible, adding Centuries and Sleuths in Forest Park to her list of favorite “haunts.”

A slew of rejection letters prefaced the publishing of “The Rosary Bride — A Cloistered Death” by Echelon Press. At almost the same time, she purchased Widescope Staffing Services in Hillside, where she had worked for 25 years. She has since moved the business to Oakbrook Terrace and changed its name to The Hire Solution, helping people find work in these tough economic times.

Luisa guesses that it was perhaps her years in sales that had thickened her skin against even the harshest handwritten rejection letters. “One woman wrote to me: There’s no need to keep sending this out. The world is not ready for a middle-aged sleuth to solve the problems in a small suburb of Chicago. And I wondered if a hand-written, nasty note was actually more of a compliment than the usual form letter,” queried the author who has since published a total of six books, received the 2008 Lovey Award for “The Inn Keeper: An Unregistered Death,” signed autographs at last year’s Printer’s Row Lit Fest in Chicago (and will participate again this year, first weekend of June), took part in the Oak Park area’s Big Read featuring Edgar Allen Poe and most recently served as a panelist at the three-day Love Is Murder Midwestern Mystery Conference.

Very much in demand, she speaks frequently at libraries, bookstores, senior communities and writer’s groups. This month, she will present a program at an area high school and award one of its students whose short fiction recently won Critic’s Choice honors.

Never to be defined as typical, Luisa defies the first generation Italian-American stereotype; furthermore, she could never be confined to the class of reclusive, chain-smoking, unkempt, wildly gray writers who are never as interesting as one might expect from reading their books.

While she embraces and exudes the Italian language and culture of her childhood mainly through her expressive eyes, she has mastered the English that her father insisted the entire family learn to speak fluently when they moved from Chicago to suburban Berkeley. “Everybody speaks English here,” he proclaimed. “We must fit in and we are going to be Americans!”

And while a printing error in the first edition of her first book lists her alma mater as the fictional Regina College instead of the actual Rosary College, there is no mistaking her written and often-spoken gratitude to Rosary’s Sinsinawa Dominican Sisters. “They are amazing women, consistently a well-spring of optimism and faith. They are distinguished by their thirst for knowledge and profound interest in all things and people. I admire them, I was touched by them and I have to believe I was shaped by them,” professes Buehler.

Her seventh and final book in the series, “The Reenactor: A Staged Death,” will be launched at Forest Park’s Centuries and Sleuths bookstore on July 9, 2011. “It was the summer I was 10 when I hopped on my Schwinn and followed Sharon Buczak to the library located in the basement of the Police Department/Village Hall. That’s where I found Nancy Drew,” Luisa reflects. “Even now, 50 years later, I feel like I have to catch my breath when I think of that moment when I discovered the portal to freedom and imagination.”

For more on Luisa, visit her website at www.luisabuehler.com. For details on the book launch, visit www.centuriesandsleuths.com.

For the most part, I am proud to be a lifelong Melrose Parker, having lived among rich traditions and incredible people and businesses that have inspired many articles during my career. It seems like yesterday when we rode our bikes among Melrose Park’s local landmarks that flanked both sides of Lake Street: Cervone’s grocery store, where we bought our baseball cards; Leoni’s Restaurant; Slicker Sam’s; Come Back Inn, with its foreboding grizzly bear; Merk’s Shoe Repair; Del Bello’s Beef; and Mr. Sacchetta, the tailor, to name just a few of the community’s cornerstones. The last remnant of what that thriving Lake Street corridor once looked like now stands alone like a pillar in the ancient Roman forum. But every day that the lone Italian flag waves hello to the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Route 20 and the Hispanic population that now prevails, a slice of a vibrant and rich tradition that was Lake Street in Melrose Park still survives.

Scudiero’s Bakery, 2113 W. Lake, was one of my first hands-on feature stories. Henry Miller, who once wrote, “You can travel 50,000 miles in America without once tasting a piece of good bread,” obviously never traveled to Melrose Park. Scudiero’s Bakery was recently recognized by the Melrose Park Historical Society — and rightly so — as it is the oldest Italian-American owned business remaining on Lake Street with roots dating back over 100 years ago when Michael Datoli was a baker in Serino, Italy; his son, Ubaldo, also became a baker and was remembered by many as sharing his bread with the troops in World War II. When Ubaldo came to the United States and moved to Melrose Park, he made his new home in the tiny storefront bakery once operated by the hard-working Mugnolo family. “The brick oven that is in use today is the same brick oven that was used from Day One,” Anthony “Tony” Scudiero, great-grandson of Michael Datoli, told the Historical Society audience. “It is a Middleby Marshall Oven built in the early 1900s, which was coal-fed until my father, Joe Scudiero, converted it to gas. In fact, the oven had to be constructed before the building could be completed as there was no way that monstrous oven — the heart of the bakery — could fit through a door.”

In 1954, Ubaldo began baking the luscious loaves that sustained the town; his death could have closed the bakery’s doors, but somehow his daughter, Lena, working alone, managed to keep the coal fires burning. It wasn’t until 1976, when her husband, Joe Scudiero, gave up his job to expand the family business in 1978, changing the name from Melrose Park Italian Bakery to Scudiero’s Italian Bakery. Walking in with my grandmother, I was barely tall enough to see into the lunchmeat case but memories of the provolone and suspended-from-the-ceiling sausages remain precious and vivid.

Once, when writing about Joe Scudiero, I quoted a line from one of my least favorite movies, “A Bronx Tale”: “Try and get up every morning, day after day, and work for a living. Let’s see him try that. Then we’ll see who the real tough guy is. The working man’s the tough guy,” Robert DeNiro’s character tells his son in the movie. I worked with Joe for one day on March 20, 1985, and never worked that hard again. He kneaded dough effortlessly, like his Datoli in-laws. While my lumpy loaves rested, more than 200 loaves and 75-100 Sicilian-style pizzas had already been pulled from the brick oven for customers hours earlier — while I was sound asleep. There’s no counting the number of loaves of Scudiero bread that were a “must” as breakfast toast, at dinner tables, at firehouse lunches, school and work lunchboxes and family get-togethers plus the next-day bread crumbs squished into meatballs during the decades that Joe committed long, grueling days to his business, his family and his neighbors. There’s no counting the number of loaves Joe gave away, saying, “Pay me when you got it.”

When Ubaldo died, it should have prompted Lena to lock the doors; when Joe Scudiero passed away, his sons, with lives and families of their own, could have understandably walked away from this changed community where many residents can be found shopping with LINK cards at the supermercado. Thankfully, Joe’s twin sons, Aldo (a fifth generation baker) and Tony, with support from their mother and brothers, opted to hoist the flag another day and a loyal following of Scudiero customers is forever grateful — as are newcomers from near and far who are salivating for a taste of the old neighborhood. The franchise-free taste of Scudiero’s bread, subs, pizza, soups and even apple slices satisfies a hunger for the past; the Scudiero’s Italian Bakery Facebook page and the website at www.scudieros.com appease 21st century cravings to know more, order faster and reach potential customers.

Tony painstakingly created a 16-minute video for the Historical Society, compiling more than 25 years worth of photos. His father took and collected hundreds of pictures taken with the “famous bread bag.” Celebrated entertainers like Frank Sinatra, sports greats, politicians and customers traveling to China, Russia, Australia and around the world who proudly posed with Scudiero bread had their photos posted in the bakery, a real testimonial to a faithful family man who often said, “You don’t judge a man by his wealth, you judge the man by the family he’s raised,” Joe often said. Clearly, Joe knew the recipe for success — and he passed it on to his sons.

If you or your parents or grandparents boarded a rickety ship from a port in Europe, left family and friends behind, perhaps never to be seen again, and made that harrowing trip across the Atlantic alone, in torrential weather, upon a merciless ocean, you already have a strong bond with Father Samuel.

If you have ever traveled toward Galena, Ill., or through Wisconsin up to Green Bay, visited Mackinac Island or studied in Iowa, you have walked where Father Samuel walked as he ministered, often alone, across a vast 52,000-square-mile region, sharing scraps of food with native American tribes, learning the language of French-Canadian fur traders and, one remote village at a time, bringing the Word of God and sacraments of the Faith to pioneers.

If you have ever built something from nothing with your hands, wanted the best possible education for your children, sat brokenhearted beside a friend’s sick bed or had the fleeting feeling of fear and loneliness in your work and your life, you, too, have a soul mate in Father Samuel Mazzuchelli.

From his arrival in the United States in 1828 at age 22 until his untimely death in 1864, his accomplishments defy logic as well as the imagination. How was it possible that this one penniless man, forced to learn numerous languages to survive in the undeveloped and perilous Midwest frontier, who relied on sheer Providence for food, strength and a place to sleep and who had no formal training or experience in architecture could design and build more than 24 churches and civic buildings, establish schools and parish communities for the country’s newest settlers? And how could there possibly be a drop of stamina and faith left to compassionately teach, write, baptize, anoint the sick and bury the dead in his enormous tri-state “parish”? Many of us can barely make it through the workday with the conveniences of the 21st century at our fingertips. Father Samuel’s own life may very well have been his first miracle. No one man, then or now, could — or would — embrace such daunting challenges, day after exhausting day, armed only with an undying faith in God.

Father Samuel was relentless about creating a better, more intelligent world: that he built an academy for young women, decades ahead of his time, offering a remarkably advanced curriculum, including the latest in scientific equipment and demonstrations of electricity and physics, is quite simply hard to fathom. One of his greatest legacies may have been establishing the American Congregation of Dominican Sisters of Sinsinawa — women who are not merely teachers but a community of renowned scholars, authors, doctors, musicians and educators. The Mazzuchelli and Dominican heritage inherent in Illinois schools (Trinity High School in River Forest, Queen of Peace High School in Burbank, Rosary College [now Dominican University] in River Forest) is also prevalent in learning institutions around the country where the Sisters have left their mark on students, passing on Father Samuel’s faith, confidence and knowledge purely by the example of their own lives.

I am one of those students, forever grateful to the Sinsinawa Dominican Sisters, who continue to show me and teach me the Mazzuchelli way years after my graduation from Rosary College. The motto Caritas et Veritas, Love and Truth, Father Samuel’s compass in a foreign land and, subsequently, the Sisters’ approach to education, still changes lives, renews tired faith — and performs miracles.

I have shaken hands with Robert Uselmann, an ordinary man from Madison, Wis., who was told in 2001 to simply go home, that his incurable cancer would soon take his life. After praying with Father Samuel Mazzuchelli’s penance chain, he became Father Samuel’s first documented miracle. I was there when Mr. Uselmann’s scrupulously examined case, blessed by Madison Bishop Robert Morlino, was sent to the Congregation for the Causes of Saints in Rome, which must now make a recommendation to Pope Benedict XVI as to whether or not Father Samuel should be beatified. Miracles attributed to Father Samuel are often associated with his penance chain, an iron chain that was found, only after his death, embedded in his flesh. He had worn it around his body to be united with the sufferings of Christ.

So I take my case to you, the faithful: Will your voice join mine in promoting Father Samuel’s deserving Cause? Without much effort, you can speak volumes. Pray the prayer for the Beatification of Father Samuel, which can be found at www.sinsinawa.org (along with more detailed information about his life, penance chain and miracles). E-mail me at mel60160@aol.com and I will personally send you a prayer card; join the Venerable Father Samuel page on Facebook; visit Sinsinawa Mound just outside of Galena, where the chain is available for veneration upon request. Let your prayers and passionate support for Father Samuel be known to the Holy Father in Rome atbenedictxvi@vatican.va; to the Diocese of Madison at communications@straphael.org and join their Facebook page; to Bishop Morlino’s office, c/o William.Yallaly@straphael.org; or write to the Apostolic Nuncio Pietro Sambi, 3339 Massachusetts Ave., N.W., Washington, DC 20008-3687 (fax: 202-337-4036). Together, our ordinary but collective voices can advance Father Samuel’s Cause, even securing for us a small place in history on those anticipated days when the Pope announces Father Samuel’s Beatification and, one day, bestows the title of Saint on our neighbor, this holy Italian American who lived and worked among us — in Fra Noi territory.

Some readers may know me as the editor and publisher of Neighbors magazine, a free, monthly magazine that circulates in the near western suburbs of Chicago. Or perhaps you may have seen me as a guest on the award-winning WTTW-Channel 11 show “Check, Please!” Others may be reading me for the first time. In any event, I am looking forward to introducing you to the fellow Italian Americans who inspire me, who keep traditions alive, who are passionate about their work, their devotion, their family, their heritage and their community. I have dedicated my career to the people and stories that rarely make headlines, shining the spotlight on their talents, generosity and humility so that others may be motivated out of the doldrums of depressing world news and prompted to dig a little deeper within themselves for the greater good. I may never live a life of obscene wealth but I have certainly had the luxury and good fortune of knowing selfless, courageous people, experiencing life-changing moments, celebrating lives well lived and jobs well done.

Maybe it’s my Catholic upbringing, from Our Lady of Mount Carmel School (now closed) to Mother Theodore Guerin High School (now Guerin Prep) to Rosary College (now Dominican University) that keeps me grounded; maybe it’s my DNA, a family tree rich in prayerful devotees, patriots, hard workers, silent sufferers and compassionate givers that are always gentle reminders that we won’t be judged by our W-2s on the last day.

I have been writing human interest and feature stories since 1982, bringing “good news” stories to the forefront along with individuals who make a difference in other people’s lives, such as Westchester’s former mayor, the late John Sinde; individuals who serve as role models in business and leadership, such as Fenwick High School in Oak Park’s former President Fr. Richard LaPata; Nella Curatolo of Gioacchino’s Restaurant, the Sangiacomo family of Mickey’s Drive-In and the Lezza family of Lezza Spumoni and Desserts, all located in Bellwood; and organizations that distinguish themselves from competitors by way of their teamwork, generosity and ultimate success such as the Sheridan Carroll Charitable Works Fund.

In April 2005, much to my own surprise, I took home a coveted Peter Lisagor Award for Exemplary Journalism presented by the Chicago Headline Club chapter of the Society of Professional Journalists. Among those receiving honors at the most competitive event in its 28-year history were the Chicago Tribune, The Chicago Sun-Times, Daily Herald, Crain’s Chicago Business, WBBM-AM, WGN-TV, and, who? Tina Valentino of Neighbors magazine? My October 2004 story, “Etched in Stone,” unearthed chapters of fascinating history literally buried in Mount Carmel and Queen of Heaven cemeteries in Hillside, with the help of “tour guide” and mayor, Joseph T. Tamburino.

But enough about me. Future columns will be dedicated to Italian Americans who are doing fun, interesting, unique and commendable things in Melrose Park, Elmwood Park, River Grove, Oak Park, River Forest, Forest Park, Maywood, Bellwood, Hillside, Berkeley and Northlake. Like the Missionary Sisters of St. Charles Borromeo Provincial Guild, currently at work preparing for this year’s annual St. Joseph Table, which will be held on March 18 from 4 to 8 p.m. at the convent, 1414 N. 37th Ave. in Melrose Park. This is not merely a calendar listing — this is a significant event that can only succeed when others make an effort to not only support the Sisters who have cared for so many, including our elderly relatives at Villa Scalabrini, but to support a frail Italian tradition. If not now, when? When it’s gone? Join with us, bring your children and grandchildren and share this endangered tradition with them, teach them about St. Joseph and show them, by your example, the importance of keeping traditions alive!

For more information about the MSSC St. Joseph Table or to send me your thoughts and ideas about this column and future issues, feel free to email me at mel60160@aol.com. EDITOR’S NOTE — Future columns will be digested in Fra Noi and posted in their entirety atwww.franoi.com.