Lessons from the Kitchen

“Hi, Chris.  How are you?  What do you think of...?” 

I was in eighth grade when I first met Louise Rizzo at my best friend Mike’s house.  Outside of my own immediate family, I’d never had a member of the older generation ask me what I thought of anything.  I was relatively shy and intimidated about joining in on the conversation, since I came from a family that discussed politics and society amongst itself, not with the outside world.  I was new to the Rizzo way of life, but as time passed, I learned to chime in before everyone looked in my direction for a contribution.

Louise, who was first “Mrs. Rizzo” to me before she became “Grandma Rizzo” or “GrammaRiz,” as she was known to her own grandchildren, was insatiable when it came to learning about the world around us.  Mike and I were classmates briefly, before he and I went on to separate high schools, private boarding and local public, respectively.  Each summer, though, I’d be encamped at the Rizzo house, which would occasionally coincide with a visit from Gramma Riz.

One lesson she imparted to me was that you could never educate yourself enough.  My brother was a senior when I was freshman, but had I been an only child, my visits to the Rizzo house would have made me keenly aware that college was around the corner and that higher education was important.  In high school, she’d ask how my studies were going until late in my sophomore year.  That’s when she began to discuss colleges with me, as she did with her own family.  I’d bat around the names of the schools I was looking at, but express disgust that my guidance counselors were having me aim a bit lower.  Louise reminded me that I should dream big and have faith in my abilities and that I would wind up where I belonged. 

She beamed when Mike got into Harvard, and was very happy for me when I told her I was going to Amherst College.  In a rare moment when Gramma Riz and I were left alone in the kitchen, she had me lean in.  Looking me right in the eye, she said, ““No matter where you go in life, a college education will be important because you will choose what you learn and no one can take that away from you.”  It was an important lesson that I have carried with me through the tougher scrapes of adulthood.

Through Mike, I became a member of the Rizzo inner circle, enjoying parties, pre-Thanksgiving meals, and game nights with the family.  I also took Mike’s cousin, Andrea, to the prom, worked for a day at uncle Frank’s restaurant, and was assisted on a play I directed by his youngest sister, Lisa.  But my association with the family took on a whole new dimension when I met Louise’s fourth son, Jack.  I only knew Jack in passing before I got out of college.  He knew my life story, mostly because of Louise, and he took an active interest in my career pursuits.  Through this friendship, Jack has hired me to work in his school as a teacher and as the director of a drama program.  I have also served as a co-editor on his two major writing projects: his doctoral thesis and Lessons from the Kitchen.  &