Today marks what would have been my parents’ 75th wedding anniversary. Though they are no longer here on this earth, I believe — with every fiber of my being — that they are together in heaven. I imagine them smiling at one another the way they always did, holding hands, and knowing their bond is unshakable.
Where you come from, who you learn from, and how you take these lessons shapes the very core of who you are. My parents gave me more than my name and my upbringing — they passed down values, habits, and even a few stubborn beliefs that still echo in my daily life. Some of those beliefs have been limiting, born from the struggles they endured as kids during the Depression-era. But more often, they have been a source of strength, purpose, and an unwavering sense of responsibility to make a difference.
I think of the Cifonelli–Biviano culture that I was blessed to grow up in — Italian and Sicilian roots rich with tradition, faith, and food. Our family, recipes weren’t just about ingredients. Each came with its own story. Each dish held a history lesson and a reminder that nourishment is both physical and emotional. Love was kneaded into the dough, simmered in the sauce, and served at the table, with generosity, strength, and a sense of purpose. Those lessons in how we treat one another in service were early leadership training, whether I knew it or not.
For 14 years, I’ve promised myself I would finish the book, share the stories, lessons, and recipes. Today’s revelation is that it’s time to keep that promise — not just to myself – but to them. That book will be a way to preserve our heritage and to pass it on, like a good recipe, to future generations.
Earlier today, I stood overlooking Mt. Diablo on a morning so foggy that parts of the mountain seemed to vanish. It was serenity at its best – muted, majestic, and hazy with the thought of what the rest of the day would bring. But as the sun climbed higher, the fog began to lift. Slowly, the ridges emerged, the valleys brightened, and the view revealed itself in full, breathtaking clarity.
Leadership — and life — often feels like that. There are seasons when the path ahead is obscured and days when you must move forward by faith alone, trusting that clarity will come. And at the moment the fog lifts, your vision becomes clearer. You can see where you’ve been heading all along or reflect on a micro moment that helps strengthen your clarity.
My parents led through their own fogs — the Great Depression, wars, 9-11, illness, and personal losses — but they kept moving. They built a marriage that endured more than 50 years on earth and seven and a half decades in the afterlife. The road wasn’t always smooth, but they walked it together, adjusting their pace and direction as needed.
On this day, I’m reminded that honoring the past doesn’t mean living in it. It means carrying forward the best of what we’ve been given — integrity, resilience, love — and letting go of what no longer serves us. It means choosing to see the mountain, even when it’s hidden in the mist.
So today, I want to thank Josephine & Frank Biviano. Thank you for the lessons, the love, and the example of how to lead through the fog. My wish for you today is that you find your own perspective and clarity, and may you have the courage to walk towards those moments.
P.S. As I mentioned, I’m finally working on the book I’ve talked about for years — a journey into my Italian-Sicilian heritage, with stories, traditions, authentic Italian and Sicilian recipes, and some new California classics. It’s a love letter to culture, food, and the leadership lessons that come from a family table. Consider this your invitation to join me as the story unfolds. Read “The Sauce Story”, which includes my family recipe for the best meatballs you’ll ever eat
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