Justin Catanoso - My Cousin the Saint: A Search for Faith, Family, and Miracles

CHORIO

Antonino Catanoso and Antonina Tripodi, parents of the saint

Padre Gaetano Catanoso (18791963), the saint

Antonino Catanoso and Elisabetta Mangiola, great-grandparents of the author

Maria Portzia Catanoso Priolo, great-aunt of the author

ARCHBISHOPS OF REGGIO CALABRIA (TIME OF SERVICE)

Cardinal Gennaro Portonova (18881908), ordained the saint a priest, 1902

Monsignor Camillo Rinaldo Rousset (19091926), called the saint to Reggio, 1921

Monsignor Carmelo Pujia (19271937), approved Veronican sisters founding, 1934

Monsignor Enrico Montalbetti (19381943), killed in WWII

Monsignor Antonio Lanza (19431950), ensured Vatican approval of the Veronican sisters, 1958

Monsignor Giovanni Ferro (19501977), administered Last Rites to the saint, 1963

CAUSE FOR CANONIZATION

Monsignor Aurelio Sorrentino, archbishop of Reggio Calabria-Bova, initiated the cause, 1980

Monsignor Antonio Denisi, supervised the fact-finding process in Reggio, 19821987

Father Francesco Moccio, relator for the cause in Rome, 19871997

Monsignor Giuseppe DAscola, postulator for the cause in Rome, 19972005

Pope John Paul II, approved the cause at all levels; beatified Padre Gaetano, 1997

Pope Benedict XVI, canonized Padre Gaetano, 2005

MIRACLES RECEIVED

Sister Paulina Ligato of Montebello, Italy, officially approved by the Vatican, 1997

Anna Pangallo of Roccaforte del Greco, Italy, officially approved by the Vatican, 2004

AMERICA

Carmelo Catanoso (18871941), native of Chorio, cousin of the saint, grandfather of the author

Caterina Foti Catanoso (18911952), native of Riposta, Sicily, grandmother of the author

Their American children:

Elizabeth Catanoso Lamanna, 19141994

Bessie Catanoso LaRosa, 19151988

Anthony Catanoso, b. 1916

Leona Catanoso Betz, b. 1918

Leonard Catanoso, b. 1920, wife Connie, b. 1927, authors parents; children: Lenny, Marlene, Alan, and Justin

Mary Catanoso Nestor, b. 1923

Joseph Catanoso, b. 1925

Charles Catanoso, b. 1926; son: Anthony, cousin of the author

Peter Catanoso, b. 1931

ITALIAN RELATIVES

Piero Catanoso, family patriarch in Reggio, wife Adriana

Pina Catanoso, sister of Piero

Enza Catanoso Sartori, sister of Piero

Enzo Catanoso, brother of Piero

Giovanna Catanoso, cousin in Reggio

Daniela Catanoso, cousin in Reggio

Patrizia Catanoso, cousin in Reggio

Caterina Catanoso, husband Vincenzo Infortuna, cousins in Reggio

Daniela Catanoso, cousin in Rome

SPIRITUAL INFLUENCES

Father William Hodge, high school religion teacher

Manoel Cardozo, mentor

Father Louis Canino, mentor

AUTHORS FAMILY

Laurelyn Dossett, wife

Emilia, Rosalie, and Sophia, daughters

Patrizia Catanoso knew she was in for a restless night. The thoughts she took with her to bed were too gruesome. Earlier that day, the son of a close friend had been struck by a car while riding a motorcycle on a country road just outside of Chorio, a rugged mountain village in southern Italy. The collision was head on, and the boy, just seventeen, landed in the road like a box of ceramic dishes. He now lay in intensive care in a hospital in the city of Reggio Calabria, cracked and broken, on life support. Patrizia worked as an administrative assistant at the hospital and had visited the boys father there.

The doctors tell me there is no hope, her friend sobbed. They are just waiting to pull the plug.

Patrizia is a sensible woman, levelheaded, able to empathize easily with the suffering of strangers. But such pain rarely followed her home. Life is often short and cruel; hospital work teaches you that. But a young boy, a family friend, crushed by misfortune on a blind curve? She thought of her own two children, Salvatore and Michela, just a few years younger than her friends son. She crossed herself and kissed her fingertips.

Understand now that Patrizia is no religious mystic. She is not one to burn candles before a statue of the Virgin Mary. Her eyes, dark and penetrating, suggest that she can spot nonsense a mile away, especially when she cocks an eyebrow. She favors long denim skirts and flat shoes. As for jewelry, she wears only a plain, gold wedding band. Her faith is the same: simple, honest, never showy.

Yet at home in bed that night, Patrizia felt compelled to praynot to Jesus, not even to Godbut rather to the only person she calls on in times such as theseher great-uncle, Gaetano Catanoso, a humble mission priest who died in 1963, the year after she was born. He was no ordinary priest. Her parents and grandparents believed Gaetano had lived the life of a saint during six decades of Christlike service to the poor of southern Calabria. The Vatican agreed to such an extent that Gaetano had been venerated by Pope John Paul II and was on track to become canonized. That rare Catholic honor confirmed to the faithful that the priest possessed divine powers to work miracles through Gods grace. Patrizia never bothered her great-uncle with frivolous matters of lost keys or soccer victories. But she prayed hard for her friends son.

Sometime before dawn, in that twilight zone between sleep and consciousness, Patrizia saw an image, a face, blurry around the edges but soon recognizable. It was Padre Gaetano, his soft eyes and sweet smile as real as if he were kneeling beside her bed.

Dont worry, the image spoke to her. He wont die. Ask the sisters for a handkerchief and tell them to pray.

Patrizia opened her eyes as the image disappeared. In all her years of prayers, she had never, ever, experienced anything like this. It was morning. She dressed and left her apartment in a hurry, driving quickly through Reggios side streets to a small church in the hilltop neighborhood of Santo Spirito. She hustled past the courtyard statue of her great-uncle and spoke in a rush to the nuns inside the Mother House, nuns from an order Gaetano Catanoso had founded in 1934. They parted with a sacred handkerchief that belonged to the late priest and vowed to keep the dying boy in their prayers throughout the day.

At the hospital, Patrizias friend was still there, still sobbing. Its almost over, he said, slumped in a waiting room chair.

But Patrizia told her friendpray, pray to Padre Gaetano.

She went to the boys curtained bay in intensive care. He lay nearly lifeless, tubes sprouting from his arms and mouth. A nurse friend tried to shoo her away. Leave him alone, she implored, its his time. Patrizia held her tongue, clutching the handkerchief, waiting for the woman to leave. Trembling, her heart racing, she unfolded the white cloth and gently passed it over the boys face. Am I doing this right? She passed it over his body as well and tucked it under his pillow with a prayer card bearing the face of Gaetano, the same face that came to her in her sleep barely an hour earlier. She said another prayer and left.

That evening, with her husband, Orazio, she returned to the hospital. Again, she was greeted by her friend. Again he collapsed in their arms in tears. My God , Patrizia thought, the boys dead . But through his choked cries and gasps for air, her friend was trying to tell them something different. My son. He is better. He is better.