“Secret Recipes and Hidden Treasures: Unveiling the Untold Stories of Chicago’s Italian Heritage”
Added on February 17, 2025 inASTROLOGY CARDS
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I’ve recently dove back into “The Bear”—a glorious cacophony of Italians shouting their way through life—and let me tell you, as a yelling Italian myself, it’s been a joyride. But as I rummaged through my archives, I stumbled upon a piece about my Chicago Italian friends and their escapades, particularly focusing on Scott. This guy has been a frequent feature in my life—a sort of ‘Getting Scotty Out of Houses’ mini-series, if you will. You see, Scott’s a Cancer, and if you know anything about Cancers, they tend to retreat into their shells, especially after tough times, like when he lost someone dear to him.
When I finally bumped into his brothers one fateful night, the air was thick with concern. Jimmy—who’s got the looks of a young Serpico and could charm the pants off anyone (really, not me, but you get the idea)—was practically begging me to check on Scotty. “He’s in bad shape,” he says—a phrase that naturally sends shivers down my spine. So, armed with a gaggle of optimistic Italians, we set out on a mission to find Scott, and let me tell you, the ride was as hilarious as it was heartwarming. When you mix familial duty with a sprinkle of chaos, you get a recipe for the kind of heartfelt craziness that I’ve come to love in my life. And spoiler alert—you won’t believe how this wild ride ends!
For the complete tale of Italian antics and emotional rescues, check it out here: LEARN MORE.
I started re-watching, “The Bear”. I know it’s a bunch of Italians, yelling, but I’m a yelling, Italian, and I really enjoy the show.
I’ve been looking in my archives and came across this, which is about, Chicago Italians. It’s also about Scott, and a house. I used to have a series called, “Getting Scotty out of houses…” He’s a Cancer.
~~
Scott went down hard when she died. Not immediately, but after some time passed and the crowds thinned. His life derailed, and he went spinning, spinning, spinning into the abyss. I didn’t know this.
Then one night I ran into the Italians. Scott’s cousins. Three brothers, who traveled in a pack.
“Have you seen, Scotty?” Jimmy, asked. He was the good looking one, who got all the girls. Looked just like, Serpico. I mean, he was a dead ringer. Pants flew off (not me, but others) when he was around.
“Nope.”
“He’s not doing very well, Elsa.
“What do you mean?”
He shook his head. “Want to see him? He’s right down the street. I’ll take you.”
His brother cut in, “Now there’s an idea. That may help. Will you do it?”
“Do what?” I asked.
“Go see, Scotty. It’s pretty bad. He’s in bad shape.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I was getting scared. Nothing like this ever happened before.
“Got anywhere you need to be?” Jimmy asked.
“No.”
“Let’s go.”
The third brother was a pessimist. “Are you sure this is a good idea? He may be pissed off. How do you know he wants to see her? He may not want her to see him.”
“Shut up fuckwad,” Jimmy said. “It can’t get any worse. Of course he wants to see, Elsa.”
That made me laugh, but I was worried. The Italians don’t act like this. They don’t rescue people, especially not, Scott!
I don’t have to wonder for long, thankfully. I get in the car with the two optimistic Italians, and we run down the street. Three blocks if that. To a house.
“He’s in here,” Jimmy says. I don’t recognize the house. I’d not seen, Scott, for months.
We knock. No answer.
“Knock again.” says Jimmy’s brother, named, what else? Anthony!
“Shut up. I will.” Jimmy, knocks again. No answer.
“He isn’t here. Son of a bitch,” Anthony says.
“Yes he is. There’s his fucking car,” says, Jimmy. I wasn’t talking. I didn’t know what this was about.
“Well he’s not going to open the door. The lights are off.”
Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Yes he is, or I will rip the fucking door off the hinges.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. These guys crack me up. I met them when I was fifteen; we became friends in one minute.
“HEY SCOTT! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR! ELSA, IS HERE. OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW BEFORE SHE LEAVES. COME ON YOU FUCKWAD. OPEN UP.” He steps back and fills us in, “That ought to do it.”
“Jesus Christ, Jimmy, what about the neighbors?” Anthony, asks.
“Fuck the neighbors. She’s here. He can open the fucking door for her. Motherfucker, better. I ain’t here for my health!”
I laughed. I’m from the desert, not Chicago and I think this is the funniest thing. We see a light go on. “See. I knew he would want to see Elsa,” Jimmy says.
Oh really, I think. I’m flattered. I fix my hair. I fix my smile. I have Venus in Leo!
The door opens and there’s Scott, or more succinctly, there’s a cartoon version of him. It’s so sad. He’d gained sixty pounds. I looked in his eyes and I could still see him in there. He looked back at me and went into character.
“Elsie! How do I look? Do I look good or what?” he asks, patting his own big stomach. Crazy bastard.
I tell him to get dressed, that I’ll be right back. You know. Mom is here! I ride back with the Italians to get my car. Yep, I said CAR. I have one now. I drive back, and have him follow me to my apartment.
A month later I discharge him (throw his ass out per my habit) from my crisis center. He’s forty-five pounds lighter and very, very grateful. Everything is back to normal. I’m like Sophia Loren in a movie, tossing books down the stairs aimed at his head, “Get the hell out of here you son of a bitch!”
He answers, “Elsie, do you think I’m okay now? Do you think I can make it? I dunno. I feel a little shaky. Maybe if we have sex…”
Laugh. Crazy, crazy, bastard.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll dial you. Hold your breath, you jackass!”
“Elsie! I know you’ll call. I’ll be there when you do. I’ll be waitin’ by the phone. You know that. What is it that you like about me anyway? Is it everything?”
*Clock
No really. That was the clock I threw, hitting him in the head as he left my place…”
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