It happened back in 1939,
when Gigino was only nine years old. Everyone at San Giovanni
Rotondo called him Gigino, but his name was actually Luigi Capotosto.
He lived with his parents on the Viale dei Cappuccini, the road
which led directly to the friary and church of Santa Maria delle
Grazie. One day near the Patariello, the hill upon which the friary
stood, Gigino played a nasty trick on his best friend by furtively
stealing his knapsack, which contained the lunch that the boy was to
bring to his father at work. Just as he was about to open the
satchel to partake of its contents, he saw a friar emerge from along
the top of the hill – it was Padre Pio, although Gigino did not
know it at the time.
Gigino, fearful that his
“crime” had been discovered, tried to flee to avoid being
punished, but he tripped and fell at the edge of the road, which was
rugged and unpaved at the time. He scraped his knee, and as the
blood ran down his leg, he saw the friar approaching him. He was
terrified, because he feared the monk had found him out and was going
to report him to the police. He had heard that not long ago, when a
boy of his age had broken a window, the boy and his parents were
summoned to the police station.
But instead, to his
surprise, the friar, showing great compassion, came over to help him,
and in a gentle and kind voice asked what had happened. The
intensity of his eyes, the magnetic expression of his face, and a
smile that invited trust and affection, induced Gigino to make a
complete confession of the entire event. “I told him of the games
we boys were playing and confessed that I stole the rucksack of my
best friend. Then when I added that I knew that it contained his
father's lunch, the monk did not have hard words for me or threaten
me with punishment. Instead, with a calm voice and in a reassuring
tone, he explained to me all the consequences of my action. After a
hard morning's work, the father of that boy would have nothing to
eat. My seemingly innocent trick has become instead an abuse of the
poor worker. It was a lesson in life that, even though I learned it
while so young, has remained impressed in my mind as an indelible
memory throughout the years.”
EWTN.com |
As he rose to his feet,
Gigino noticed that the friar's hands appeared to be wrapped in
cloth. He asked out of simple, childlike curiosity, if he too had
fallen down. Why were his hands wrapped? The monk answered that no,
he had not fallen. “These are my poor sacrifices for the Lord.”
Astonished, Gigino asked him who was this Lord, and Padre Pio's
concise reply was “One day you will see and you will understand.”
Now, as an adult, Gigino
can firmly avow that those words were prophetic, because on the day
of his accident, he truly understood who this Lord was. He had
become a delivery truck driver, and periodically drove up the Gargano
mountain from the plains below to San Giovanni Rotondo, to deliver
meats and grains to various stores and other businesses. The
serpentine road along the mountain-side is extremely steep,
consisting of five sharp, hair-pin turns, with the edge of the road
dangerously close to the cliffs with sheer drop-offs below.
One day in 1963 with
Gigino driving the truck, and a co-worker sitting next to him in the
cab, they began the long descent down the mountain after making their
delivery run. As they were making a turn around one of the sharp
bends in the road, Gigino tried to slow down the truck, when he
suddenly realized that the brakes did not work. The steel control
rod connecting the brake pedal to the wheel carriage had broken. He
frantically tried to use the emergency brake, and to mesh the gears,
but the truck just kept bounding along, swaying from left to right,
going faster and faster. At any moment they could fail to round one
of the hairpin turns and tumble down the escarpment. Gigino gripped
the steering wheel hard, as he desperately tried to keep his vehicle
on the roadway.
While his co-worker could
only scream and curse, Gigino began to earnestly and fervently pray
to all the saints of Paradise! They tried jumping out of the
careening truck, but were afraid because of its great velocity. As
they barreled down towards the next sharp turn, all at once a very
intense perfume of roses penetrated the driver's cab. The aroma was
so strong and instantaneous that they could only breathe with
difficulty. It was the sign of Padre Pio's spiritual presence, and
it seemed to suffocate them. Seconds later the speeding truck
abruptly halted, amid the sound of a violent crash. It had smashed
into the trunk of a giant olive tree that stood right on the edge of
the curve.
Road down the Gargano Mountain. Google satellite view. |
“I have no image in my
mind of the actual impact, we seemed to be enveloped by a protective
cloud. I only recall that after some minutes had passed, we realized
that we were uninjured.” Gigino and his companion crawled out from
the twisted and smoking wreck. Neither man had a scratch on them nor
any other effects or bruises from the impact. They looked out on an
incredible scene – at the apex of the hairpin turn, the olive tree
overlooked a steep ravine. If they had gone over that cliff in the
truck, not even their bones would have been found. If the tree were
located half a meter to the left or to the right of the precipice,
their lives would have been over. “Right below the driver's cab,
through which the branches of the tree now protruded, we could see
the wide, deep valley below. In sum, it was a miracle we were
alive!”
But Gigino's special
connection with Padre Pio did not end there. Oddly enough, exactly
one year later he was on that same road, running the same delivery
route, but this time of course in a new truck. It was raining cats
and dogs, and was already dark out. He had come to the curve where
he had his fortunate escape, and had just passed that same olive
tree, when he saw a broken down car at the edge of the road. He saw
the driver working a tire iron in the pouring rain, trying to change
a flat tire. Gigino, aware of the great grace he had received at
this very spot, knew that it was his duty to help out this poor man
and vehicle stuck here in the cloudburst. He stopped his truck, and
as he came near the auto, he saw that it bore a license plate with
the letters “SCV,” Stato della Citta del Vaticano, and he noticed
bishop's colors on the vestments of the passenger inside. This was
the car of His Excellency Karol Wojtyla, Auxiliary Bishop of Kracow,
Poland, and Titular Bishop of OMBI.
It was 1964 and the
Vatican Council was going full tilt. Mary Pyle, who lived
practically adjacent to Padre Pio's friary, has remarked that “So
many bishops from the ecumenical council came up to see Padre Pio
that sometimes it seems that the Council is at San Giovanni Rotondo!”
So such a private visit would not be unusual, and in the case of
Bishop Wojtyla, there was a special reason for him to want to see
Padre Pio and thank him in person. Two years previously the bishop
had written him asking for prayers for his good friend Dr. Wanda
Poltawska, who was scheduled to be operated on for late stage cancer.
When it was time for the operation, the doctors were astonished to
find that the tumor had disappeared.
Gigino helped change the
tire, and saw to it that the car and its passenger were safely on its
journey. Little could he have known, or even remotely imagined at
the time, that he had helped the future Vicar of Christ, John Paul
II, who would be the very pope to canonize Padre Pio.
This post is based on an
account in I Miracoli che Hanno Fatto Santo Padre Pio, by
Enrico Malatesta, pp. 176-179. Additional information from Padre
Pio the True Story by C. Bernard Ruffin, pp. 360-361.
See my Catholic Books on
Padre Pio and others Here.
Wonderful story! On a pilgrimage with my family to Padre Pio in 1966, things were not as built up as they are today, but much simpler. Few hotels and restaurants. I don't remember how many or where, but in some of these public places we saw humble paintings on the walls of car and truck smash-ups that happened on the Gargano hairpin road to San Giovanni Rotondo, and in some a hovering Padre Pio. We saw these paintings not only in SGR but in other towns on the mountain and in the plains below. The memory of coming upon these paintings has always stayed with me.
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