In the Spirit... by Joe DeRozier

There are several people who have heavily influenced my life.

My dad, of course. Mr. Belleau, who was my mentor at Wautlets Bakery in Algoma, Wisconsin. He changed the whole trajectory of my life and taught me about much more than just baking. Mr. Bean, who started working with me after he retired from Chrysler. He stepped in for my dad when I moved here and provided me with a lot of insights from his vast experiences.

Another is Sal Mazzocca. I call him Mr. Sal. One of the first times I was given a glimpse into the semi-mafia world of Mr. Sal, he told me that his college major was in Physics.

Mr. & Mrs. Sal

I'm sure I looked a little puzzled after being given that information. Neither his many responsibilities at his current job nor his blossoming tax consultant business would require a degree in that field.

Sensing my confusion, he continued. "You see,” he explained, "when I was in Bloom High School in Chicago Heights, I failed a Physics class". Apparently he was incensed by that failing grade, and never willing to accept defeat, he conquered his nemesis by getting his degree in that very subject.

Within three minutes of hearing that story, Mr. Sal became my first and only tax accountant. At that time, Mr. Sal was 54 years old and about to retire from Illinois Bell, where he had enjoyed a very successful career. He had been doing some tax work for people the last few years he was at Illinois Bell, but dove in head first after his retirement.

For several years, I would sit in his office in the basement of his home on Kenneth Court in Glenwood, Illinois, as he completed my taxes. It was a nice basement that was finished just around his work area. His office consisted of a desk, a computer, a printer, a fax machine, two file cabinets, and two chairs.

My youth and inexperience kept me from understanding anything about business taxes, and I wanted to know everything. With smoke curling over his pipe, he would take his glasses on and off his face several times as he went over each and every line of my return. Many times, he'd have to uncross his legs (the leg on top was always in motion) and slide himself back in front of his state-of-the-art Commodore computer to confirm the numbers we were discussing. He would literally spend hours with me either in his basement or on the phone, answering all my questions. When I'd receive paperwork in the mail from S.C. Mazzocca, I'd always hold the large yellow envelope to my nose, because it always smelled of his pipe smoke—I love that smell.

Sometimes out of exasperation during one of our many chats, I'd say a tax wasn't fair or I couldn't justify in my head why something got depreciated a certain way. "The IRS,” Mr. Sal would explain, "isn't real concerned about being fair".

Sometimes I'd start a sentence with, "Mr. Sal, as my friend and not as my accountant..."

He would raise his hands and shake his head., "No, no, no, Joey. I don't want to hear this!"

To be honest, there were times I just said that to watch his reaction.

Mr. Sal is still my accountant 33 years later. He has taught me so much, put up with all of my insane questions, and patiently listened to all of my improbable scenarios. Over these last 33 years, he's given the best advice and has had the misfortune of having to listen to me ramble on the phone while he would have much rather been enjoying one of his few vices...a bowl of ice cream.

This year, at 87 years old, Mr. Sal had a serious health scare. He has pretty much fully recovered and at one time, wanted to get right back to work. However, after carefully thinking it all through, Mr. Sal has decided to hang up his pencil.

For the first time in over three decades, I'll be asking those ridiculous questions to a new accountant. I watched my dad retire, and he was fine. I talked to Mr. Belleau when he retired. He was very happy to give up those hours and spend more time on the golf course. Mr. Bean was glad to retire, but had a difficult time sitting still,which I'm grateful for. His full-time job after retiring from Chrysler was just to enlighten a young baker about life.

Mr. Sal is different. He needs purpose. It isn't the money and I don't even think it's because he loves the work. It's because it is his identity, and I don't think he knows who he is without it. His segue from Illinois Bell to "Sal the Taxman" was the perfect transition for him, because he felt he was still needed. But now... Mr. Sal... I hope you thoroughly enjoy your well-deserved retirement. I want you to enjoy your life and be proud of your many accomplishments. As far as your purpose, your calling, your significance, or whatever you want it to be called, I believe that it was never Illinois Bell nor was it being Mr. Sal, the Tax Man.You are the most clever, honest, best teacher, and most patient person I have ever met...and I'm so proud that I can call you my friend. That, Mr. Sal, is what your purpose has always been...and you can keep doing that.

~*~

I don't have a bio from Joe, naturally, so I'm going to just use what I did the 1st time he came to the Window, before he'd ever published his 1st book. Joe DeRozier makes doughnuts. And fritters. And things with Bavarian cream in them. And braids--he talked about his braids so much his daughter asked him to stop. Just the mention of a pastry he's made makes my mouth water. I've never met him, although I've grinned at him through the door behind the counter in Aroma, the coffee shop on Broadway in Peru, and he's waved back. But I love his writing, so I asked him to do guest posts sometimes. He didn't say yes. Or no. But finally he said I could cut and paste from Facebook if I wanted to. So this morning that's what I've done. He and I hope you enjoy it. And if you're ever in Peru, Get Up, Get Dressed, Get DeRozier's. Thanks, Joe.

And now for his latest book, his 3rd... https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0BHQ98PQQ/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i0