Wednesday, January 10, 2018


It was the night before our big trip to California, and we were all packed and ready to go. That is, we were all packed and ready to go except for one thing, my youngest son Michael couldn't find his license that he needed to board the plane at JFK.

My Irish wife had for years demanded and insisted that we eat pizza on Fridays, she loves pizza and it was a break for her from cooking during the rest of the week. It is this reason that I suspect she became a better Italian than I am. She was showing typical symptoms of Italianate style and class, she is beautiful, loves Italian food and makes a great sauce on Sundays.

"Does everybody have their ID for tomorrow? Mike, do you have your license?"

"Mom, I can't find my license!"

"What! Did you look in your room? You can't get on the plane without it. Look some more."

"I don't know what I did with it!"

Mom then stops in her tracks, in the middle of my den and announces:

"Well, there is only one thing to do. Like my mother, I will pray to St. Anthony!" So, she drops down to her knees and crosses herself and prays! Now it wasn't an altar that she was praying at, but the couch. I know that that couch has given me comfort over the years and so, why not?

With her hands folded and in earnest prayer, she invoked all her years of belief and devotion to God and prayed for the deliverance of one driver's license made in the name of Mike D.

This of course was shocking, an Irishman praying to St. Anthony, practically a patron saint of Italy and lost causes. Don't they have Irish saints to pray to for something lost? At least hire an Italian intermediary to pray to St. Anthony.

When her petition as over, blessing herself she rose to her feet, firm in her belief that St. Anthony was working his saintly magic for the cause of a half Italian child.

As she marched upstairs to Mike's bedroom, it seems like it was almost immediately that she returned, grasping high over her head Mike's license like it was a religious icon for all to bow and venerate to. The miracle of St. Anthony!

What happened? I think that probably with all her pizza consumption, she had through osmosis, become an Italian, crossing St. Anthony's wires and invoking his assistance.

Never underestimate the power of prayer or pizza.


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