Lucasano: A Story Behind the Name and a Legacy of Resilience
“A great soul serves everyone all the time. A great soul never dies. It brings us together again and again.”
There’s often someone in our lives who feels like a reflection of our soul—someone whose influence shapes you in ways that last forever. Even after they’re gone, we carry their energy, feeling it resonate like a steady, rhythmic pulse. Slow, then loud. I felt that pulse so strongly when I brainstormed names for my studio. The name became unmistakably clear.
Lucasano isn’t just a name—it’s a tribute to someone whose incredible journey and strength helped shape the person I am today. It honors our bond and carries her story forward.
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The Roots of Resilience
That someone was my grandmother, Giuseppa. Born in 1908 in Sicily, her journey began when her father immigrated to America, arriving at Ellis Island on April 23, 1914. For four years, he worked tirelessly as a laborer, saving every penny to bring the rest of his family over. On April 1, 1918, my grandmother, just 10 years old, stepped off a ship in Boston along with her mother and sister. She carried her family’s hopes, Sicilian traditions, and a resilience that would define her life.
Those roots gave her strength and became the foundation for the life she built in America.
Ship manifests of my great-grandfather Giuseppe (1914) and grandmother Giuseppa (1918), marking their journey to the U.S.
My grandmother had an independent streak that shaped her early years. Her self-determination defined her adulthood. In her twenties, she worked as a hairdresser at Jordan Marsh, a historic department store in downtown Boston. She didn’t just style hair—she built a community. She formed close friendships with gay men, offering them a sense of belonging and acceptance at a time when society often ostracized them.
My mother would tell me stories about how those friends encouraged my grandmother to open her own salon. By the early 1930s, with their help, she had done it. Her salon wasn’t just a business—it was a sanctuary, a place where everyone belonged.
Historic illustration of Jordan Marsh in Boston, MA
Building a Life on Her Own Terms
My grandmother was the picture of independence. She owned a car, made her own choices, and lived life her way, challenging the societal norms of her time. There was something so natural about the way she lived—confident, capable, and completely her own person.
My grandmother on Easter, 1929
At 29—considered late for marriage back then—she married my grandfather, Francesco Randazzo. She kept running her salon until she decided to sell it to a close friend. But even then, she didn’t slow down. She helped my grandfather at his laundromat during the week when she could, worked long Saturdays from dawn to dusk, and still managed to raise her children with tireless dedication. She found a way to balance parenthood and ambition, never letting either fall behind.
Wedding photo of my grandparents, Giuseppa and Francesco, 1929
Through it all, she carried a profound gratitude for what she and my grandfather had built together. She passed that gratitude down to me through the stories she shared during my visits to Florida, where she and my grandfather retired. Her lessons were simple but profound: work hard, accept people for who they are, and cherish the ones you love. I’ll never forget sitting with her, listening to her laugh, soaking in her wisdom, and the warmth of knowing she truly saw me.
Celebrating my third birthday with my grandparents.
“I never said the words before she died, but she knew. I felt it in the way she loved me—for all that I was.”
Her resilience and the lessons stayed with me long after those visits ended. My grandmother lived an extraordinarily long life, passing away in 2010 at the age of 102. I never said the words before she died, but she knew. I felt it in the way she loved me—for all that I was.
Sometimes I wonder what she would’ve said if I’d come out to her. But in truth, she didn’t need to say anything. Her actions, her love, and her stories gave me the courage I needed, quietly instilling confidence in ways I didn’t fully understand at the time.
Carrying Her Spirit Forward
My grandmother is at the heart of Lucasano. She created a space where everyone felt they belonged, even when the world wasn’t ready for it, showing just how much of a difference one person can make. Her independence and determination to start her own business taught me what it means to take bold steps and push beyond traditional norms.
Lucasano is a bond—a bridge between two generations. 'Luca,' my Italian name, and 'Sano,' from my grandmother’s maiden name, Golisano, reflect the deep connection we shared. Together, they create the foundation for my studio’s mission: to honor individuality and celebrate every story through custom stationery.
I carry her story forward in every detail. Her values—love, strength, acceptance, and perseverance—are the foundation of Lucasano. My designs reflect those values, embracing authenticity and unapologetic self-expression.
Her spirit is that pulse behind it all—a quiet, fierce rhythm that drives every creation, honoring not just her journey but also the individuality of everyone I have the privilege to design for.
Giuseppa Golisano Randazzo (1908-2010)
