A Beacon of Light

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  • My name is Kevin Carroll. I was born and raised in San Francisco, California, where I attended Saint Ignatius College Preparatory. I am a graduate of both Santa Clara University and the University of San Francisco. Following a 40-year career in teaching and pastoral ministry, I launched a new career as a writer and speaker, primarily on the topic of gratitude.

    I currently live in San José, California. My wife, Kathy, and I have three adult sons and five precious grandchildren. I have much for which to be grateful.

    I can be reached via email at kmc43sjc@gmail.com

    My books are available for purchase online from Amazon. I also have copies of some of these titles at my home for those who would like to buy them directly from me.

    A Moment’s Pause for Gratitude  (2017)

    Cherries in the Summer  (2021)

    The Ambassador of 38th Avenue  (2022)

    Dad: 12 Questions…  (2023)

    A Focus on Gratitude  (2024)

    Through the Lens of Gratitude  (2024)

  • Monday, 01/19

  • Afternoon Walk

    “Above all, do not lose  
    your desire to walk.”   
    Soren Kierkegaard 

    What was I thinking? (How strange that I’ve been asking myself this question for decades.) I ventured out on a walk yesterday afternoon. I left home around 4:00 and returned about 5:30. I had no particular destination in mind. I just walked aimlessly through the neighborhood enjoying the late afternoon sun and savoring the fresh January air. It was a most refreshing respite from a day of writing and the responsibilities of helping to care for our active two-year-old grandson. As I was about thirty minutes into the walk, it dawned on me that I hadn’t given much thought to what I’d been thinking about.

    This surprised me a bit, because I recall the words of Mahatma Gandhi who said, “A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes.” Considering this warning, perhaps I should pay more attention to my thoughts, but yesterday’s walk was not for thinking. It was an experience of emptying my mind and allowing myself to be in the present moment and in the presence of God. Not surprisingly, it didn’t take long for my thoughts to kick-in and interrupt the serenity of that moment.

    I began thinking about places I’d been, opportunities I’d been offered, and experiences I’d enjoyed. I started thinking about people I have encountered in my lifetime — from my early childhood years to the present day — and how I have impacted their lives and how they have impacted mine. I thought about decisions I’d made in my lifetime, not doubting those decisions, but wondering how my life would be different had I chosen a different option.  

    With all these thoughts swirling about my head, I thought about the memorable words of the French philosopher and novelist Albert Camus. He wrote, “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.” Bingo! That’s how I was feeling. Here we are in mid-January, and even with myriad thoughts spinning around in my consciousness, I was filled with the peace and serenity of a summer afternoon.

    Afternoon walks, as it turns out, are a great time for thinking. By no means are they a waste of time. In fact, German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche claimed, “All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking.” I am grateful for the time I had yesterday to both clear my head, and then reflect on what’s truly important in my life at this time. 

    Thomas Jefferson claimed that “walking is the best possible exercise.” I wholeheartedly agree. I am also inspired by the words of Confucius. He said, “It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” The pace at which I walked yesterday was relatively slow, almost as if I were wandering deep in thought around the grounds of the Jesuit Retreat Center in Los Altos, but I have no plans to stop walking any time soon. 

  • Disappointments

    “There is no normal
    life that is 
    free of pain.” 
    Fred Rogers

    The reconstructive knee surgery was successful. Brendan is home now, experiencing the all-too-familiar challenge of limited mobility. This, too, shall pass. It won’t be long before he’s back out on the basketball court.

    Brendan’s positive mindset does not make him immune from the disappointment of having his growing player development business interrupted by this injury, but as author Mel Robbins remind us, “Disappointment is a sign that you had expectations; it’s a sign that something didn’t turn out the way you had hoped. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

    Rather than sitting at home feeling sorry for himself, Brendan is using this time to connect with and continue to support his clients, several of whom are playing competitive basketball at various high schools in the area. He’s editing video footage to create highlight reels of these athletes doing their workouts or playing in games. He continues to send out promotional materials to potential clients in and around the South Bay. 

    Brendan is able to do all these things because he understands the three-step process for coping with disappointment — accept, reflect, move forward. With this surgery being the second significant procedure in less than one year, accepting the reality of the injury is a little easier this time around. During his days in the hospital, and even now at home, he has time to reflect on what happened and how he’s going to deal with the temporary setback. And he’s already beginning the process of moving forward, adjusting his schedule to accommodate physical therapy appointments and investigating options to continue to support his clients in spite of his physical limitations. 

    One factor which reveals the personal growth Brendan has experienced in the past year is his sense of gratitude. He understands the words of the Greek philosopher Epictetus who said, “He is a wise man who does not grieve for the things which he has not, but rejoices for those which he has.” Brendan’s mobility is severely limited for a while, but his knowledge of and passion for the game of basketball is unchanged. He still has much to offer his clients.

    When I see how Brendan is handling this difficult situation, I am reminded of the words of American writer Ralph Waldo Emerson, who wrote, “What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.”

  • Resilience

    “Everything negative — 
    pressure, challenges — 
    is all an opportunity 
    for me to rise.” 
    Kobe Bryant

    Kobe Bryant’s quote reminds us that we have the ability to reframe adversity as opportunity. We have the opportunity to embrace fear and dedicate ourselves to a relentless work ethic to overcome obstacles. Wise words from one of the best professional basketball players ever to play the game.

    My youngest son, Brendan, is quite familiar with what has come to be known as the Mamba Mentality. Brendan, who will be 34 in March, looks to Kobe as a role model both on and off the court. The image above depicts Brendan at a workout at the gym on Friday, May 3, 2025. Sadly, three days later, doing the same thing at the same gym, he sustained a total rupture of the patellar tendon in his right knee. The following day, he underwent reconstructive surgery and began a long process of recovery.

    From the time I first arrived at the hospital the evening of May 3rd, I was impressed with Brendan’s attitude. As disruptive as it was to his new career providing individual training for athletes, his focus was on recovery, not self-pity. This positive outlook, and his commitment to rehabilitating his knee, enabled Brendan to be back on the court, both coaching and playing basketball, within six months. His doctor had predicted that recovery would take a full year. Since that time, his new business, True Form Basketball, has experienced consistent growth.

    One might think that after such a successful comeback, Brendan would have been devastated when this past Monday, January 12th, he sustained a similar injury in his left knee. He is back in the hospital recovering from yesterday’s surgery to repair the torn tendon. Despite the setback, he is, once again, turning to the inspiration of Kobe Bryant, who had his own physical setbacks, including a season-ending torn Achilles tendon, during his playing days with the Los Angeles Lakers. The Mamba Mentality is a mindset focused on relentless self-improvement, hard work, and the constant pursuit of becoming the best version of yourself, both on and off the court. In Kobe’s own words, it’s about “focusing on the process and trusting in the hard work when it matters most.”

    Former Carnegie-Mellon professor Randy Pausch, in his now famous The Last Lecture, said this about dealing with obstacles in life: “The brick walls are not there to keep us out. The brick walls are there to give us a chance to show how badly we want something.”

    Brendan knows what he wants, and he’s not going to let a torn tendon stop him from pursuing his goals with passion and commitment.

  • Which Road?

    “Two roads diverged 
    in a wood, and I — 
    I took the one  
    less traveled by…”
    Robert Frost

    The Road Not Taken, by Robert Frost, was first published in The Atlantic Monthly magazine in August 1915. Over the next 110 years, it would become one of the most inspirational and oft-quoted poems in American literature.

    Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, 
    And sorry I could not travel both 
    And be one traveler, long I stood 
    And looked down one as far as I could 
    To where it bent in the undergrowth.

    Then took the other, just as fair, 
    And having perhaps the better claim, 
    Because it was grassy and wanted wear; 
    Though as for that the passing there 
    Had worn them really about the same.

    And both that morning equally lay 
    In leaves no step had trodden black.
    Oh, I kept the first for another day! 
    Yet knowing how way leads on to way, 
    I doubted if I should ever come back. 

    I shall be telling this with a sigh 
    Somewhere ages and ages hence: 
    Two roads diverged in a wood, and I — 
    I took the one less traveled by, 
    And that has made all the difference.

    In some ways, I can apply Frost’s words to the life I’ve lived. The expectation that I would follow in my Dad’s footsteps and enjoy a respectable, worthwhile career in the San Francisco Fire Department were high. When opportunities arose in my life which offered me a view down a different path, I had the courage to take that path, knowing full well that it would not be as financially lucrative, nor as highly respected, as the road my Dad had taken. I always thought Frost’s poem was extolling the virtues of taking that less traveled path.

    Which road is the better option?

    Recently, I’ve come to understand this highly expressive literary piece in a different way. This perspective begs the question Which road is the better option? In fact, I’m even prompted to ask Which road is truly less traveled?

    We live in a throw-away society. Use it, then dispose of it. If an appliance breaks, replacing it is significantly easier, and often more cost-effective, than attempting to repair it. For many people, when a newer version of the iPhone is introduced, the one they have loses its appeal and they desire the newer model. At times, those around us consider it foolish for us to hold on to something we’ve had for many years, insisting that we would be significantly happier with the updated, perhaps more reliable, version of the product. Most people, it seems, are intent upon keeping up with the current trends and having the latest and greatest of everything. Why? Three reasons: because they can, everyone else seems to be doing it, and people who know us expect that we should do so as well. If that’s the norm in society, and it seems to be, then the road less traveled might actually describe making a commitment to repair the older, sometimes unreliable refrigerator, watch, television, cell phone, lamp, mattress, faucet, car,… 

    Whichever road we choose, there is always a risk that we will experience the ache of imagining the road we didn’t take. I find solace in the message of American journalist Katie Couric. While speaking on the value of overcoming challenges along unconventional paths, Couric explained that the road less traveled may be harder to navigate, but the rewards at the end, even though not guaranteed, have the potential to be even greater.

  • Monday 01/12

  • “And on the 7th day…”

    “Do not let your  
    Sundays be taken  
    from you.”   
    Albert Schweitzer

    Today is the second Sunday of 2026. As I mentioned last week, one of my goals for the new year is to reclaim Sundays as a sacred day. There are a variety of definitions for the word “sacred” in the dictionary:

    1. Devoted or dedicated to some religious purpose;
    2. Entitled to veneration;
    3. Pertaining to religion;
    4. Reverently dedicated to some person, purpose, or object;
    5. Regarded with reverence.
    6. Secured against violation or infringement;
    7. Properly immune from interference:
    8. Worthy or regarded with respect.

    So what do I mean when I say that I want Sundays to be sacred for me? Well, there are many ways I can do this which encompass several of these definitions.

    Growing up in a Catholic family, Sundays meant going to Mass. After high school, as is so common with graduates who move out of their parents’ home to attend college, I got in the habit of not attending Sunday Mass for a while. When I did go to church, it was usually because the Sunday night Mass at Santa Clara University was as much a social event as a spiritual one. 

    Throughout my life, even though I attended Mass more often than not, there were a few periods when Mass attendance was rare for me. Then I found myself working for the Catholic Church, and attendance at Sunday Mass was part of my job. Was it a sacred experience? Honestly, most of the time, it was work.

    By 2013, I had become so disillusioned with the Church, especially at the local level, that I stopped going to Mass altogether. So how does one make Sunday sacred if not attending church services?

    Making Sundays different than the other six days of the week is a good starting point. Beginning this year, I’m not writing on Sundays. (I’m writing this blog article on Saturday night). I’m going to engage in self-care more often on Sundays. This will include taking walks, reading, visiting with friends, spending time with family, or doing anything else that does not involve my laptop or my cell phone. In fact, there’s no reason for me to have my cell phone with me at all on Sundays.

    I can also make an extra effort to look for opportunities to be kind to people. This is something I try to do every day, but I could be even more attentive to these opportunities on Sundays.

    Most important of all, I can spend more time than I usually do reflecting on the people, things, events, opportunities, and memories for which I have to be grateful. For me, this is best done setting aside periods of solitude. Whether I go to a park, Hakone Gardens in Saratoga, the beach, Lake Vasona in Los Gatos, or to a coffee shop in a neighborhood where it is unlikely that I’ll run into anyone I know, immersing myself in solitude enables me to better focus on the many blessings in my life.

    In 2026, my commitment to myself is to conscientiously do everything within my power to embrace the words of Albert Schweitzer and minimize the possibility of anyone taking my Sunday away from me.

  • Success

    “Success isn’t about 
    money or fame. 
    Success is living a life 
    you feel proud of.” 
    Jonathan Huie

    My focus on gratitude was put to a test on Thursday afternoon. I found myself at a park in Cupertino with two of my grandkids. We chose the park based on its proximity to my granddaughter’s school. When we pulled into the parking lot at the park, I paused to look around the neighborhood. On two sides of the park were multi-million dollar homes. They were immense. They were gorgeous. The cars parked in the driveways of those homes were exactly what one would expect to see sitting in the driveways of such an expensive pieces of property. For a moment, a very brief moment, I felt the twinge of envy.

    Wouldn’t it be nice to live in such a home? Wouldn’t it be nice to live in a secluded, upscale neighborhood where kids can walk home from school unaccompanied by a parent and then leave their home to spend an afternoon at the park without adult supervision? I felt as though I were on the set of a movie.

    Despite the brief distraction, it didn’t take long for me to regain my senses. While there is a real possibility that the residents in those homes are happy and content, perhaps even grateful for all they have, I’m well aware that what happens inside the walls of homes of any price range are not always ideal. I’m also aware that the cost, in terms of time spent in the workplace and stress associated with one’s career, might also have been overwhelming.

    Society, it seems, continues to judge one’s success by where people live, what type of car they drive, where they travel and how often, where they eat when they dine out, how they dress, the brand name on their wristwatch, and so many other inconsequential factors. This is why I chose to quote Jonathan Lockwood Huie today. He gets it!

    If the owners or residents of those upscale Cupertino homes are living a life they are proud of, then yes, I consider them to be successful. I just wonder how many of them spend so much time at work, or carry so much daily stress, that they simply don’t have the time, energy, or ability to enjoy the incredible living situation they’ve bought into.

    Teaching and serving in various pastoral ministry roles in the Church was something I enjoyed immensely, until I didn’t. It was something I felt called to do. The various roles I undertook allowed me to share my gifts and my passions with my students and others in the community. It’s unfortunate that the financial compensation for working in ministry pales in comparison to what people make today in the Silicon Valley high tech world. I would like to believe that teachers make as much of a difference in the world, if not more, than an engineer in any high tech firm. 

    I knew, from the very beginning of my career, that I was entering a profession that would not make me financially wealthy. I’m not complaining about my compensation package at all. I am extraordinarily grateful for the simple home we own. I am thankful for the cars we drive and the various items we possess, even though most of those things were previously owned. Do people around me consider me to be successful? That’s not for me to decide, nor is it of any interest to me. Do I consider myself to be a success? Yes, I do, because I’m proud of my accomplishments and of the positive difference I’ve made in the lives of countless people.

    A.M.D.G.  

     

  • Pure Magic

    “Grandchildren don’t 
    make a man feel old; 
    it’s the knowledge  
    that he’s married  
    to a grandmother.” 
    G. Norman Collie

    It has been said that something magical happens when parents turn into grandparents. It’s absolutely true. I have been a “Papa” for more than eleven years now. As of this writing, I have five grandkids, ages 11, 8, 5, 4, and almost 2. From the very start, I have been amazed at the magical nature of having grandkids. Now, even after more than a decade, the magic continues day by day.

    Kathy took Henry to the local public library yesterday. They picked up a dinosaur play kit and a few books. Not surprisingly given his age, Henry is fascinated with dinosaurs. He’s not at the point where he can distinguish a stegosaurus from a triceratops yet, but I expect that he will be able to do so in the not-too-distant future. While eating his lunch after returning from the library,  Henry wanted to be sure that all the dinosaurs were well-fed. Then, at nap time, he took one of the reptiles to bed with him. He slept soundly for two hours.

    In the afternoon, we went to the park. We left all the dinosaurs from the library at home, but that didn’t stop Henry from imagining that he was playing with a friendly one while climbing on the play equipment. His imagination is incredible, as are his Papa’s AI skills!

    It is unsettling to observe that unlike my generation, when, as kids, we played outside, created our own games, made up our own rules, and thrived on putting our imaginations to work, so many kids today are already addicted to hand-held digital devices which keep them entertained, but fail to promote the development of their imagination skills. To see an almost two-year-old playing at a park for an hour and a half without stopping to complain that he’s bored is a true blessing. Henry moved seamlessly from one piece of play equipment to another, thoroughly enjoying himself the entire time.

    Yes, there is a magical component to the variety of activities in which one may engage using a hand-held device, but it pales in comparison to the absolute joy and innocence of engaging in genuine childhood play.   

  • Reading

    “There is no such thing  
    as a child who  
    hates to read;  
    there are only children  
    who have not found  
    the right book.”  
    Frank Serafini

    Mark Twain once said, “The man who does not read has no advantage over the man who cannot read.” As much as I hate to admit it, for much of my life, I was that man.

    I have no doubt that I was introduced to books at a very early age. The image above depicts my brother, Tom, reading to my sister, Cathy, and me in 1957. Books were a part of our lives. My mother regularly took us to the Parkside Library on Taraval Street in my childhood. There I would have the opportunity to pick out books to take home and read. My favorites were anything having to do with Curious George. I was constantly entertained by the mischievous little monkey and the man in the yellow hat.

    When I began elementary school, we did a fair amount of reading out of anthologies we simply referred to as “readers.” I’m sure I enjoyed many of the stories we read, but for some reason I didn’t develop a love of reading. Through my middle school years, I have no recollection of reading books for school or for pleasure.

    My acceptance letter to Saint Ignatius High School in 1968 included a required summer reading list. There were five books on the list which we were expected to have read before arriving for class on the first school day in September. The books were: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Treasure Island, Old Man and the Sea, The Caine Mutiny, and The Call of the Wild. I read them. Much to my surprise, I enjoyed reading them.

    In my freshman English class, one of the first books we were assigned to read was The Hobbit. I remember making an attempt to read the book, but I didn’t enjoy it at all, and, in the end, I don’t recall ever finishing the book. From that point on, reading was never anything more than an unpleasant task for me.

    I did a fair amount of required reading during my years at Santa Clara University. Two books, in particular, stand out as having impressed me: Markings, by Dag Hammarskjöld and Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. I’m sure there were others, too, but these two books left a lasting impression. I don’t recall reading any books for pleasure during those years.  

    It wasn’t until my adult years that I truly embraced a love for reading. Most of the books I read at first were books which had been recommended by friends — or my Mom, who had become an avid reader herself. Some of these books include McCarthy’s Bar (Pete McCarthy), Breakfast with Buddha (Roland Merullo), Tuesdays with Morrie (Mitch Albom), The Shack (William Paul Young), and The Alchemist (Paulo Coelho). I enjoyed all these books immensely. For the first time in my life, I was reading for pleasure.

    Other books I’ve enjoyed have been written by local authors, some of whom are now friends: The Measure of a Man (Jerrold Shapiro), 20 Gifts of Life (Hal Urban), The Millionaires Cruise (Don McPhail), Your Personal Renaissance (Diane Dreher), Beautiful Boy (David Sheff), Bird by Bird (Anne Lamott), and Murder at Beach Chalet (Paul Totah).  

    All of these books, and so many more, have helped me to realize the wisdom in the words of novelist Elizabeth Hardwick who wrote, “The greatest gift is the passion for reading. It is cheap, it consoles, it distracts, it excites, it gives you knowledge of the world and experience of a wide kind. It is a moral illumination.’’