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.

    I 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)

    A Bahamian Odyssey (2026)

  • Stand By Me

    “Music can take  
    you right back,  
    years back, to the  
    very moment certain  
    things happened  
    in your life.”   
    Aretha Franklin

    During my second visit to Japan, in November 1999, I was invited to visit the school in the coastal town of Sotome (a suburb of Nagasaki) where my host student, Saori, had attended elementary school. While I was there, I was invited to visit the sixth grade class. The teacher, Mr. Masatoshi Irie, was an energetic and creative educator. I had met him the previous year when I first visited Nagasaki and stayed with Saori’s family in Sotome.

    When I arrived at his classroom, Masatoshi informed me that his students had a surprise for me. In Japanese schools, English is taught beginning in junior high school, so I had no expectation that I would be able to converse with the students. As I expected, I couldn’t, but with translation assistance by Masatoshi, I was able to answer a few student questions. Then it was time for the surprise.

    Masatoshi pulled out his guitar. All the students stood up in the aisles next to their desks. The looks on their faces led me to believe that something special was about to happen. And it did.

    “When the night has come,  
    and the land is dark,
    and the moon is the  
    only light we’ll see….”

    That class of sixth grade students, who had not yet started studying English, was singing the popular Ben E. King song… in perfect English. The smiles on their faces said it all. I can only imagine how they interpreted the smile on my face.

    It was clear that a significant amount of time and effort had been devoted to practicing the song. It was also clear that that the students enjoyed the experience immensely. The moment was truly unforgettable, so much so that, since that day, every time I hear Stand By Me, I’m taken back to the sixth grade classroom at Shitzu Elementary School in Sotome… with intense feelings of love and gratitude.

  • A Lost Art

    “You can’t reread 
    a phone call.” 
    Liz Carpenter

    At lunch on Sunday afternoon, I overheard a comment that caught my attention. I don’t know the context in which it was made, but my sister, Peggy, said, “No one writes letters anymore.”

    My first instinct was to disagree. Fortunately, I’ve learned that it’s sometimes wise to pause before speaking. Upon reflection, I realized she was right. When was the last time I received a handwritten letter? More importantly, when was the last time I wrote one? Yeah, it’s been a while.

    Perhaps I initially bristled at Peggy’s observation because, when speaking about gratitude, I often encourage people to consider the value of a handwritten thank-you note. Sure, sending a quick text is convenient, but there’s something special about receiving a note someone took the time to write by hand. It communicates more than appreciation. It lets the other person know we care.

    I’m an enthusiastic writer of thank-you notes, birthday cards, get-well wishes, and condolence cards. But letters? That’s another story.

    For me, writing a letter is much like composing a five-paragraph essay. There’s an introduction, a few paragraphs sharing news about family, travel, and life’s adventures, and a closing paragraph expressing good wishes and hopes of getting together again. That’s a considerable undertaking!

    These days, we type, text, email, and occasionally talk on the telephone. Other than grocery lists and greeting cards, how often do we actually put pen to paper?

    I still write letters, but rarely by hand. My freshman typing class in high school may have been the most useful course I ever took. Typing comes naturally to me. Handwriting, however, has become tedious and occasionally uncomfortable.

    Then there’s the convenience of editing. On my computer, I can rearrange sentences, correct spelling, and delete entire paragraphs without leaving a trace. A handwritten letter offers no such luxury.

    So, reluctantly, I must concede Peggy’s point. Handwritten letters have become something of a lost art. But perhaps that’s precisely why they’re worth preserving. In a world where communication is increasingly instantaneous and disposable, a handwritten letter offers something different. It requires time, patience, and intentionality. It tells the recipient, “You matter enough for me to slow down.”

    And isn’t that, in itself, an expression of gratitude?

    I may never return to writing all my letters by hand, but perhaps it’s time to make an occasional exception. After all, some things are worth the extra effort.

    Thanks for the reminder, Peggy.

  • Family

    “You don’t choose  
    your family.  
    They are God’s  
    gift to you, as you  
    are to them.”  
    Desmond Tutu

    Some of life’s greatest blessings aren’t things we can purchase, accomplishments we can celebrate, or the possessions we accumulate. They’re people. More specifically, they’re the people who share our journey through life, offering us a sense of belonging, connection, and love. For many of us, family is one of life’s greatest gifts. The older I get, the more I appreciate this truth.

    I’ve been extraordinarily fortunate to have been blessed with wonderful siblings, cousins, and in-laws. Each of these relationships has enriched my life in ways I might not have fully appreciated when I was younger. Siblings share our earliest memories and experiences. Cousins connect us to our family history, reminding us of our shared roots. In-laws expand our circle of relationships, often becoming as dear to us as those with whom we share a common ancestry.

    One of my greatest joys is getting together with family to celebrate life’s special moments. Birthdays, anniversaries, weddings, holidays, and other family gatherings provide opportunities to reconnect, reminisce, laugh, and simply enjoy one another’s company. Yesterday, we celebrated my sister Cathy’s milestone birthday at a restaurant in downtown San Mateo. It could not have been a better day.

    Sometimes the occasion itself is almost secondary to the pleasure of being together. The conversations, familiar stories, shared meals, good-natured teasing, and laughter create memories that remain with us long after everyone has gone home. These gatherings are, quite simply, a pure gift.

    Of course, no family is perfect. Relationships can be complicated. Differences of opinion, misunderstandings, disappointments, and occasional tensions are inevitable. Gratitude doesn’t require us to pretend otherwise. Rather, it invites us to recognize and appreciate the goodness that exists within our relationships, even when those relationships aren’t always easy.

    As I grow older, I’m increasingly aware that opportunities to be together are neither unlimited nor guaranteed. Time has a way of reminding us that the people we love won’t always be available for another birthday dinner, holiday celebration, or family reunion. This realization makes every gathering more meaningful. It also reminds me of the importance of expressing gratitude now, rather than assuming there will always be another opportunity.

    When I reflect on the many blessings of my life, I realize that some of the most precious gifts I’ve received are the people with whom I’ve been privileged to share the journey. Family is certainly one of those gifts. And for this, I am profoundly grateful.

  • A Gift

    “There is a  
    calmness  
    to a life lived  
    in gratitude.”
    Ralph Blum

    There is a long and cherished tradition of gift-giving at Christmas time, but have you ever thought about sending a gift to someone to express your gratitude at Thanksgiving?

    Of the seven books I’ve written and published in the past ten years, Through the Lens of Gratitude is the best. If you’re not familiar with it, the book contains fifty brief stories of gratefulness. At the end of each story, I’ve posed two thought-provoking questions for readers to encourage them to reflect on gratitude in their own lives in light of that particular story.

    Many who have read my books describe my writing style as conversational. I write the way I speak to ensure that the message is clear and easily understood. When it comes to gratitude, we are all grateful for a number of people in our lives, but how often do we express our gratitude to them?

    William Arthur Ward challenges us all with his words: “Feeling gratitude and not expressing it is like wrapping a present and not giving it.”

    Thanksgiving Day 2026 is just a month away. With the convenience of Amazon, it’s easy to send a book as a gift to anyone just about anywhere. I invite you to consider sharing your gift of gratitude this Thanksgiving. 

  • Click!

    “Do not let the  
    behavior of others  
    destroy your  
    inner peace.”      
    Dalai Lama

    For many years, local and national news stations have attempted to hook viewers by referring to what is to be covered in the broadcast as BREAKING NEWS. I’ve finally reached the point where I am convinced that the news is no longer breaking. It’s broken.

    To watch newscasts today, it’s no wonder that most young people, and I’m sure a good number of older folks, consider the world we live in to be dangerous. For years, I asked my students if they believed the world was basically good with a presence of evil, or basically evil with a presence of good. Overwhelmingly, and increasingly, more of these young women and men were convinced that the world is basically evil, with an occasional presence of good. When asked why they felt this way, most cited the television news reports as the source of their opinion.

    I used to be a TV news junkie. I always wanted to know what was happening in the world — locally, nationally, and internationally. I thought it was a mark of a mature adult to be informed about such things. It’s taken a while, but I’ve finally decided that I no longer have the need, nor the desire, to hear what television journalists have to say.

    When I travel around the Santa Clara Valley and the greater San Francisco Bay Area, more often than not I encounter good people who, from what I can tell, are respectable, law-abiding citizens who have a general concern for the common good. Sitting in my car at a red light of a busy intersection, I am most often amazed and impressed by the high percentage of drivers who follow the rules of the road. Only rarely do I witness entitled drivers ignoring our driving laws to suit themselves.

    Walking down a neighborhood street, visiting a local coffee shop, shopping at a grocery store, or refilling the tank of my car at a gas station — all of these experiences allow me to encounter men and women of all ages and ethnicities who, from what I can see, are genuinely good people. This is quite a contrast from news reports which seem to suggest that danger awaits around every corner and that no one can be trusted.

    I do still have a desire to know what the weather will be in the coming days and weeks. And with predictions of a potentially disastrous “Super El Niño” in our future, I’m curious to see how that plays out in the Bay Area and across the country. For this reason, I’m grateful for The Weather Channel and local weather reporting.

    As for the rest of the evening news,… Click!

  • Friends

    “It is by chance  
    that we met,  
    and by choice  
    that we  
    became friends.”   
    Henri Nouwen

    One of the greatest blessings of my teaching career was the opportunity to develop friendships with people whose lives and cultures were very different from my own. One such friendship is with Yuichiro Wakiyama of Omura, Japan, a suburb of Nagasaki.

    Yuichiro has taught at Junshin Junior & Senior High School in Nagasaki for many years. During the time his school enjoyed a sister-school relationship with Saint Lawrence Academy, where I was teaching at the time, we had numerous opportunities to visit each other’s campuses. Yuichiro traveled to California several times, while I was fortunate to visit Nagasaki more than a dozen times. What began as a professional relationship gradually developed into a lasting friendship.

    Our time together wasn’t limited to classrooms and school activities. Yuichiro introduced me to historic sites, breathtaking scenery, Japanese culture, and, of course, a few excellent pubs. On several visits, he generously served as my personal chauffeur, ensuring that I experienced the best of Nagasaki.

    In 2007, when Kathy accompanied me to Japan for the first time, Yuichiro and his wife, Kuniko, welcomed us into their home for a delightful dinner. Sharing their enthusiasm for all things Irish, the four of us also enjoyed an evening at an Irish pub in Omura. Wonderful memories!

    When Yuichiro visited California, it was my pleasure to return his hospitality. Together, we explored Santa Cruz, San Francisco, Sausalito, and the Napa Valley wine country.

    Sadly, more than ten years have passed since we last saw each other.

    Today is Yuichiro’s birthday. Although he’s considerably younger than I am, we’re both getting older. Realistically, another journey to Japan seems unlikely for me. Nevertheless, I remain hopeful that Yuichiro and Kuniko might someday return to California. There’s still plenty for us to explore!

    Distance and time have a way of separating friends physically, but genuine friendship isn’t measured by how frequently we see one another. It’s measured by the memories we share, the kindness we’ve experienced, and the gratitude we carry in our hearts.

    Happy Birthday, Yuichiro! Thank you for your friendship, your extraordinary hospitality, and the wonderful memories. The Pacific Ocean may separate us, but friendship has no borders.

  • Home

    “The ultimate luxury  
    is to be able to  
    relax and enjoy  
    your own home.” 
    Jeff Lincoln

    There is something wonderfully satisfying about waking up in the morning and realizing that I have absolutely nowhere I need to be. No appointments that can’t be rescheduled. No meetings I need to attend. No errands that can’t wait until tomorrow. No obligations requiring me to shower, shave, get dressed, and head out the door. Just an entire day to spend however I choose in the comfort of my own home.

    For much of my life, such a day might have seemed like a wasted opportunity. After all, we’re conditioned to believe that a life of value is a busy life. We’re encouraged to get out, stay active, meet people, visit places, accomplish things, and make every moment count. As I get older, however, I’m beginning to appreciate the possibility that sometimes the best way to make a moment count is simply to enjoy it.

    There are countless little pleasures associated with staying home. A leisurely cup of morning tea or hot chocolate. Reading a book without paying attention to the time. Listening to music. Writing when inspiration strikes, rather than because I’ve established a deadline for myself. Sitting in my favorite chair, well-aware of the world outside my window, yet feeling no particular need to join it.

    And then there’s the delightful freedom of doing absolutely nothing!

    Retirement has given me an opportunity to reconsider my relationship with time. For decades, my days were structured around schedules, responsibilities, and the needs of others. There were classes to teach, papers to grade, meetings to attend, and commitments to fulfill. Being busy wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Much of it was deeply rewarding. But somewhere along the way, I may have developed the mistaken impression that being productive was essential to being worthwhile. It’s taken me a while, but I’m learning otherwise.

    Staying home also provides opportunities for something increasingly difficult to find in our fast-paced world: quiet. Not merely the absence of noise, but the kind of stillness that allows me to think, reflect, pray, and appreciate the blessings I might otherwise overlook. For me, this is where gratitude enters the picture.

    It’s easy to become so preoccupied with pursuing new experiences that we fail to appreciate the familiar ones. A comfortable chair. A good book. A favorite meal. A peaceful afternoon. The reassuring familiarity of our own surroundings. These aren’t extraordinary experiences, but that’s precisely what makes them extraordinary.

    Of course, I recognize the importance of maintaining friendships, nurturing relationships, exploring new places, and remaining engaged with the world around me. Choosing to stay home shouldn’t become an excuse for withdrawing from life or avoiding meaningful connections. One of the unexpected gifts of growing older is discovering that happiness doesn’t always require activity, adventure, accomplishment, or recognition. Sometimes, contentment is found in the absence of all four.

    I’ve spent much of my life going places, doing things, meeting responsibilities, and trying to make a difference. I still value those experiences, and I hope there are many more ahead. But I’m discovering another kind of happiness, one that doesn’t require a destination, a schedule, or even a reason.

    Sometimes, it’s simply good to be home.

  • A Look Inside

    “The unexamined  
    life is not  
    worth living.”
    Socrates

    Introspection means “to look inside.” It is the practice of examining one’s thoughts, feelings, words, and actions, and considering how they affect our own life and the lives of those around us. For much of my adult life, I’ve focused my attention outward — teaching, coaching, mentoring, parenting, writing, and speaking. I’ve invested considerable time and energy in trying to make a positive difference in the lives of others. Now, in retirement, I’m discovering that looking inward may be a more challenging task.

    For decades, I enjoyed opportunities to feel capable, effective, productive, and influential. My responsibilities provided structure, purpose, and a sense of being needed. Retirement has changed much of that. While my experience, knowledge, and desire to contribute still exist, the opportunities to exercise them have diminished significantly. I’m not always comfortable with this reality.

    I still want to be useful. I want my opinions to matter, my advice to be considered, and my efforts to make a difference. I want to believe that the wisdom accumulated over seven decades has value. But introspection requires me to confront some uncomfortable questions.

    Have I allowed what I do to define who I am? Do I confuse being needed with being valued? Am I disappointed because I’ve lost some of my capabilities, or because I have fewer opportunities to demonstrate them? Perhaps most importantly, why do I continue to seek evidence that I’ve made a difference?

    There’s also the matter of control. After spending much of my life making decisions, solving problems, and guiding others, accepting that I have little control over the choices and responses of those around me can be frustrating. Even those I love most must live their own lives, make their own decisions, and discover their own truths. Introspection invites me to recognize these feelings without allowing disappointment, resentment, or self-pity to determine my attitude. It challenges me to distinguish between offering wisdom and expecting others to embrace it.

    Retirement, it seems, is less about surrendering my purpose than redefining it. Maybe being present matters more than being productive. I’ve come to realize that listening is sometimes more valuable than advising. And maybe the difference I make in someone’s life cannot always be measured by acknowledgment, appreciation, or affirmation.

    I don’t expect a time of introspection to provide easy answers, but I hope it will help me become more comfortable with uncertainty, more accepting of my limitations, and more appreciative of the opportunities that remain.

    Opportunities to make a difference haven’t necessarily disappeared. They may simply look different now. A thoughtful conversation, an encouraging word, an act of kindness, or something I’ve written might touch someone’s life in ways I’ll never know. I may never receive the affirmation I sometimes long for, but the absence of recognition is not evidence of the absence of influence.

    The greatest challenge — and opportunity — of retirement just might be learning to appreciate who I am when my former responsibilities no longer define me. After all, the person I am becoming still has something to offer. There are still relationships to nurture, lessons to learn, stories to share, and reasons to be grateful.

    My most productive years may be behind me, but that doesn’t diminish the possibility that my most meaningful moments are still ahead of me.

  • Sick

    “Autumn has arrived. 
    I hear it in the 
    whispering of leaves.” 
    Dr. Anujj Elviis

    While Doctor Elviis may acknowledge the arrival of autumn by the whispering of the leaves, my experience has been a little different. Year after year, I know autumn has arrived when I hear and feel the deep, persistent cough in my chest. I can almost set my clock by it. It’s been happening, if I’m not mistaken, for about fifty years. This year is no different. 

    It would be easy for me to blame my grandkids for the cough. Over the past several weeks, the three grandkids I see just about every day have all had coughs, as have others around them. I love it when they sit on my lap to hear me read a book or tell a story, but every now and then, they’ll inadvertently cough right in my face. One would think that could be the likely cause of my current condition, but as I mentioned, I’ve been dealing with this annual illness for longer than any of them have been alive.

    It’s October and I’m sick. Nothing new. I’m taking it more seriously this year. In the past, I’ve tried to brush it off as no big thing, continuing to go to work, attend social functions, and enjoy an occasional Friday night high school football game. I can’t do this anymore. I’m getting older. When I ignore the symptoms, and do nothing more than take an over-the-counter cough medicine, the condition seems to last for weeks, even months. This year, I’m taking it more seriously.

    Since meeting a friend for lunch at Ghirardelli Square in The City on Wednesday, October 7th, I’ve stayed home. I was planning to watch the Blue Angels fly over San Francisco on Friday, the 9th, but canceled. I had plans to meet my friend, Hal, for lunch this past Tuesday. I called to let him know I was under the weather and spent the day at home. I get together with a group of guys every Thursday night, but yesterday I let them know I wouldn’t be there because of the cough. Out of an abundance of caution, I’ve already canceled lunch with my friend Brian today. And I was hoping to attend the St. Ignatius vs. Bellarmine football game at San José City College tonight. I won’t be going to that, either. This revised schedule has enabled me to stay home for seven consecutive days so far. 

    Unless I feel noticeably better in the next few days, my next outing will most likely be to an appointment next Thursday afternoon. And if I need to cancel that appointment, I’m prepared to do so. I’ve been getting plenty of rest and drinking lots of fluids (mostly tea and water). I’ve seen some progress in the past day or two, but the bug is still with me. Self-isolation is, without a doubt, the best option for me at this point.

    Like everything else in life, there’s a bright side to all this. Henry David Thoreau wrote, “There is one comfort in being sick; and that is the possibility that you may recover to a better state than you were in before.”

    I certainly hope so.

  • Acceptance

    “There is no greater 
    disability in society 
    than the inability to 
    see a person as more.” 
    Robert M. Hensel

    I recently had a front-row seat to an unsettling scene at the grocery store. Standing at the checkout line at Safeway with a basket half-full of groceries, I found myself behind an elderly woman with just a handful of items in her arms. In front of her in line was a middle-aged man dressed in a business suit. His basket contained about a dozen items. As the checker began scanning the items from the cart, the man barked loudly at the courtesy clerk with alarming aggression.

    “Stop! Don’t touch my food! I’ll bag my own groceries. Just get out of my way.”

    Trevor has been a courtesy clerk at Safeway for more than six months. He has bagged my food with care and proficiency on several occasions. I always appreciate that Safeway provides name badges for their employees, because I like to address them by name, especially the courtesy clerks, several of whom are developmentally disabled, to express my appreciation for what they do. Like several other courtesy clerks at Safeway, Trevor has a disability. He has Down syndrome.

    As the man in the business suit aggressively usurped the task of bagging his own groceries, Trevor cautiously took a step back. It was difficult for me to accurately comprehend the expression on his face. Was he afraid, startled, or offended by the man’s harsh words and tone? The checker put a hand on Trevor’s arm, assured him that he had done nothing wrong, and gave him an encouraging wink. The customer just continued bagging his items.

    Before I had the opportunity to respond, the woman in front of me spoke up boldly.

    “Wow! Good for you, sir! You’ve managed to demonstrate to all of us that young Trevor here has a few things you are obviously lacking — dignity, character, and basic human decency, to name just a few. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

    I was so grateful the woman said these things, because if I had said what she said, there may well have been an ugly confrontation at the check stand. Men, especially arrogant men, don’t like being called out by other men. Their response is often to lash out at the person who called them out. Because these words came from a frail, elderly woman, however, the man wisely chose not to respond. What could he say? He looked around at all of us who had witnessed his rudeness. He put the last few items into the bag, moved the bags into his cart, and quickly walked away.

    I thanked the woman for speaking up. We all thanked Trevor for doing such a good job, and apologized for those few customers whose ignorance prevents them from seeing a developmentally disabled person as a full human person, deserving of the same respect as everyone else. Trevor just smiled.

    Thanks to the courage of that elderly woman, my faith in humanity was restored that evening.