A Beacon of Light

Home

  • 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)

  • Who Am I Now?

    “Who is it that can
    tell me who I am?” 
    William Shakespeare

    Meeting new people is a refreshing, energizing experience for me. I’ve always been outgoing, even at a very young age. Some might recall the title bestowed upon me by my elderly neighbor, Sam Young, when I was about ten years old: The Ambassador of 38th Avenue. It’s the title of one of my books. I’ve never been shy about introducing myself to people — that is, until I reached the age when, as a single young man, I was meeting women. For some reason, any self-confidence I had at that time abandoned me in those situations.

    It is a strange thing that some of us need others to help us understand who we are. While I was unusually social for my age in my elementary school years, my self-confidence among my peers was non-existent. I’m at a loss to explain why. I could relate quite effectively with older kids, younger kids, and adults, but there seemed to be some kind of barrier preventing me from making healthy connections with kids my own age.

    When I got into high school, things were different. It seemed easy for me to relate to my peers. It was one particular teacher, however, who saw something in me that I did not see in myself. Though it was totally undeserved, he invited me to join him, and one of my classmates, to spend the summer working in Jamaica. I met someone there who, three years later, offered me (and the student I was with in Jamaica) a full-time teaching job in a respected Catholic high school in the Bahamas. When I returned to the United States, I was offered a position teaching two classes per day at Bellarmine College Preparatory in San José while I completed my undergraduate studies at Santa Clara University.

    While working my first local full-time teaching job, at Saint Christopher School here in San José, my principal urged me to pursue a Master’s degree in school administration, telling me that I had excellent leadership skills, of which I was unaware at the time. During my years in the Master’s program at the University of San Francisco, I needed a job to finance my way through the second year of the program. When I walked into Kennedy Business Machines in San José to get my typewriter fixed so that I could update my résumé, I was unexpectedly offered a position as Operations Manager for the company. The owner, who I had met while teaching at Saint Christopher School, had recognized something in me I had not recognized in myself. He told me that I had excellent organizational skills, which was exactly what the job required.  

    It was only through the observations of others that I came to recognize some of the strengths with which I had been blessed. 

    Of course, the response of one of my elementary school teachers, when she learned that I was a teacher, was to burst out laughing. She simply could not imagine me managing a classroom full of students, much less having anything of value to teach them. This is precisely what Africa Brooke is referring to in the quote above. 

    People who know me today, and did not have the opportunity to know me when I was younger, might be surprised to hear that I had a quick temper. I lacked patience in certain situations. In fact, I removed myself from coaching due to my inability to respond appropriately to questionable officiating. Even as a parent watching my kids play sports, I was a less-than-ideal role model for my kids and the community when I over-reacted to situations on the court or field. I’m not proud of this past, but it is a part of who I am. 

    For those who do remember those days, they might be shocked to realize that today, I am calm, content, peaceful, and an excellent mediator in conflict situations. It would be nice if those individuals could lose all recollections of the confrontational person I once allowed myself to be. 

    Irish writer Oscar Wilde reminds us of something we should always remember: “All saints have a past, and all sinners have a future.”

  • PhotoBlog

    Okay, so I’ve never done this before. Sitting on Caltrain, on my way to San Francisco yesterday, I made the decision that today’s blog post would be one of photos, rather than words. So here’s my PhotoBlog from my 21,000-step walk around The City.

    Breakfast at Java Beach Café
    Ocean Beach
    Pacific Ocean beyond the dunes
    Bank of America Building
    California Street Cable Car
    Chinatown Hilton / TransAmerica Pyramid
    City Lights Bookstore, North Beach
    Cable Car headed toward Fisherman’s Wharf
    Pier 39
    Coit Tower
    Afternoon fog rolling in
    Ferry Building
    San Francisco-Oakland Bay Bridge
    South Beach Harbor
    San Francisco Caltrain Station

    I hope you enjoyed your photo-visit to The City. Contrary to media reports claiming that San Francisco is a less-than-desirable destination, it’s clear that The City is still one of the most beautiful in the world.

  • I Had a Dream

    “If I had only one more
    round to play, I would
    choose to play it
    at Pebble Beach.”     
    Jack Nicklaus

    I had my chance. I had the opportunity to play a round of golf at the storied Pebble Beach Golf Course — for free! My good friend, Yoko Hirakado, owned WISH International, the organization that brokered the cultural exchange program between Saint Lawrence Academy in Santa Clara, California and Junshin Girls’ High School in Nagasaki, Japan. I had the pleasure of coordinating the exchange program at Saint Lawrence for several years. During that time, Yoko and I became good friends. She was my ticket to the golf course.

    Yoko, and her husband Darryl,  owned a spectacular home in Pebble Beach along the world-famous 17-Mile Drive. Each year in January, they would host a party at their home. Yoko had a friend who was a famous sushi chef in Osaka. At the party each year, he would create dozens of sushi and sashimi options for the guests. In exchange for his services, Yoko would arrange for him to play a few rounds of golf at Pebble Beach. It was a win-win.

    I first worked with Yoko on the exchange program in 1998. By 2014, I had visited Nagasaki more than a dozen times. Kathy and I had also hosted more than twenty students, teachers, and other Japanese residents who wanted to improve their English speaking skills. When one of my host students from Junshin High School, along with her mother, visited my home in 2010, Yoko invited us to spend a night at her home in Pebble Beach, as we had planned to visit Monterey and Carmel. 

    It was about that time that Yoko extended the invitation for me to play a round of golf at the legendary Pebble Beach Golf Course. I had enjoyed playing golf since my junior high school days. My first few rounds were played at the Jack Fleming Golf Course, a relatively easy nine-hole course surrounded by the eighteen holes of Harding Park Golf Course in San Francisco. When I moved to San José, I played several of the public courses there and in the local communities of Sunnyvale, Cupertino, and Santa Clara. On one occasion, I accepted an invitation to play the Seascape Golf Course in Aptos. As difficult as that was, the most challenging course I encountered, a course I played at least a half-dozen times, was the lake course at the Olympic Club in The City. That was a humbling experience!

    The bottom line is that while I enjoyed the game of golf, and I had an occasional impressive drive, chip, or putt, I was a mediocre golfer. So when Yoko invited me to play Pebble, at a time when I was no longer playing golf on a regular basis, I asked for a rain-check. I did not want to desecrate that sacred course with my less-than-adequate golfing skills. I hoped that, at some point, I would get back into playing golf on a regular basis, improve my game, then accept Yoko’s invitation. That never happened. 

    While I regret never playing the course, I do not regret my decision to postpone the opportunity, even though it meant never playing the course. I have too much respect for the game of golf, and for Pebble Beach, to make a spectacle of myself hacking my way around one of the most beautiful golf courses in the world. 

    I am grateful to Yoko for her kind offer. Sadly, Yoko passed away several years ago after a lengthy battle with cancer. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I will never play Pebble Beach,… and I’m okay with that. 

  • The Way We Were

    “Oh, well,… we were tired
    of sleeping in and
    enjoying life anyway.” 
    Jessica Booth

    First grade. It was the 1960-61 academic year. At Saint Gabriel School in San Francisco, there were three classes of each grade level, with fifty students per class. Teacher’s aides? Heck, no. We had nuns (Sisters of Mercy)! They didn’t need anyone to help them control a classroom full of kids. We instinctively knew that they meant business and that we’d better toe the line. When I was in first grade, when I got in trouble at school, my parents would meet with the teacher and reprimand me for my poor behavior. Things are quite different today. Parents of unruly kids still meet with the teacher, but to discuss what the teacher is doing wrong to entice their child to behave inappropriately.

    The three classes of each grade were labeled A, B, and C. I was assigned to 1-B. My teacher’s name was Sister James Mary. It’s sad, but I have only one memory of first grade. One of my classmates, Kim Hugo, rolled up her large sheet of art paper and put it on her head to look like a chef’s hat. For some reason, I thought that was funny, so I did the same thing. For doing so, I had to stand in the corner of the classroom, facing the walls, for the remainder of the day.

    In second grade, my teacher was Sister Mary Sharon. The highlight of second grade was our reception of First Communion in late April. For me, this was a stressful time, because we were told that if we did not memorize three prayers (the Acts of Faith, Hope, and Love), we would not be allowed to participate in the First Communion celebration. My total lack of academic maturity at that time convinced me that I would never be able to memorize the three prayers, and would therefore be (probably) the only kid in the class to be excluded from the sacramental celebration. I never did successfully memorize the prayers, but I was allowed to receive First Communion.

    My third grade teacher was the best educator I had in elementary school. Sister Mary Roberta was born in 1889! Not only did she teach me in 1963 and my younger sister in 1966, she also lived long enough to hold two of my three children (Tom and Steve) in her arms at the Mercy Sisters’ Retirement Home in Burlingame. She passed away just a couple of months after her 100th birthday.

    I won’t bore you with the details of my other elementary school experiences. Some were good and some were… not so good. But I survived. The diploma I received at the graduation ceremony on Saturday, June 8, 1968 at Saint Gabriel Church indicated that I had “completed the Course of Study prescribed for the Elementary School.” A couple of months before graduation, I had received my letter of acceptance to Saint Ignatius High School. I was ready to move on.

    What I didn’t realize on my graduation day is that 1968 would go down in history as one of the most transformative years in the history of the United States. It has been described as a year of  profound and turbulent change, marked by political unrest and social upheaval. It was a year of assassinations (Martin Luther King, Jr. and Robert F. Kennedy), war protests, and a nation grappling with deep divisions. It was 1968!

    Most of us in the Saint Gabriel School Class of ’68 were unaware of exactly what was happening in The City and country at that time. We were just kids. Some of us had our first summer jobs, some hung out at either South Sunset Playground or West Sunset Playground, and a few may have attended summer school. It was many years later when we finally understood the significance of what was happening around us that summer. When I think about it, I’m grateful for the opportunity to have enjoyed one last summer of innocence.

    Yesterday, I got together with a small group of classmates at a park in Pleasanton for our quarterly lunch. It was a brown-bag affair. The weather was perfect and the three hours spent with these women and men was priceless. 

  • When in Rome…

    “When in Rome,
    live as the Romans do.”
    Saint Ambrose

    When Kathy and I visited Rome,… oh, that’s right. We’ve never visited Rome. It’s not that we didn’t have the opportunity. My brother, Tom, is a Jesuit priest who served as a spiritual director in Rome for ten years. Sadly, during those years, we had neither the time nor money to invest in such a journey. I know Kathy was a bit disappointed, but for some inexplicable reason, I have never had the desire to visit The Eternal City. Fortunately, Kathy will travel to Rome in September. She will be part of a pilgrimage group that will visit the significant sites of Saint Ignatius of Loyola in Spain (Loyola, Manresa, and Montserrat) and Rome. The tour will be led by my brother, Tom, and another Jesuit priest from Loyola-Marymount University.

    Though I’ve never walked the roads and steps of Rome, for most of my life I have been familiar with the famous quote by Saint Ambrose: “When in Rome, live as the Romans do.” There is tremendous wisdom in these simple words. 

    As a high school student in the early 1970’s, I learned that there was an appropriate way to live and act as a member of the student body of Saint Ignatius College Preparatory. Adapting to these social norms prepared me well for what was to come later in life. When I spent a year teaching in the Bahamas, I quickly adjusted to the social norms of island life. I’m not saying that I was forced to comply with social expectations. I could have done my own thing and demanded that others accept me for who I am. Fortunately, conforming to social norms in these settings did not compromise my values.

    Ambrose’s quote has also played a pivotal role in my faith life. The Gospel message of Jesus calls us to be compassionate, kind, forgiving, and grateful. While I still struggle with forgiveness from time to time, I’m fairly confident that the other virtues are readily evident to those who know me. Simplicity, too, seems to be a virtue encouraged in the Scriptures. This is where my lifestyle might not reflect the wisdom of Ambrose.

    In the United States, things that seem to matter most are power, wealth, popularity, and material possessions. The bigger the house, the better. The fancier the car, the more successful we appear to be. Status is often determined by such things as one’s zip code, occupation, or the labels on the clothing we wear. The “He who dies with the most toys wins” philosophy seems to be alive and well in 2025. I don’t buy into this. To me, simple is better.

    I live in Silicon Valley. The only reason I can afford to live here is that we purchased our home in 1986. Back then, the $140,000 price tag on our condominium home was within our budget. (A generous gift of a down-payment from my parents helped, too.) This same property today would sell for close to a million dollars. So I have very little in common with many of my neighbors who have paid top dollar for their homes in recent years. Their generous salaries from high-tech jobs enable them to afford the Silicon Valley lifestyle. I don’t live as they do. I don’t drive a Tesla. I don’t frequent upscale Santana Row restaurants. I don’t own any of the “must-have” items which seem to define success in the South Bay in 2025. 

    I think back to my Catholic school education with appreciation. I was not taught to “live as the Romans live.” I was taught to live as Jesus did — with compassion for the poor and vulnerable, with humility (I’m still working on this), with simplicity, with kindness to those I encounter each day, and with genuine gratitude for the many blessings I’ve received in my lifetime.

    To live as Jesus did seems to have served me well these past seventy years. 

  • Click!

    “I’m thankful for serendipitous
    moments in my life, where
    things could’ve gone
    the other way.” 
    Rick Springfield

    They can happen anywhere and at any time — those unexplainable moments when things just go “Click!” Being in the right place at the right time, only to experience something good which was unexpected, is one of life’s greatest treasures. It seems that I experience them on a fairly regular basis. Maybe you do, too.

    For me, such experiences have happened in a variety of places. In 1964, while walking through Disneyland with my family, I ran into one of my elementary school classmates and his family.  In 1974, I walked into the dining hall at Bellarmine College Prep for breakfast where I found Coach John Wooden sitting alone in an empty dining hall. We enjoyed breakfast together and had an amazing conversation. In 1984, I attended one of the festivities celebrating the 25th anniversary of Saint Lawrence Parish in Santa Clara. That’s where I met Kathy. 

    I’ve experienced other serendipitous moments, too: at Narita Airport in Tokyo; at Oracle Park, home of the San Francisco Giants, in The City; in a souvenir shop in Nassau, Bahamas; at Java Beach Café on Judah Street in San Francisco; and most recently on the #30-Stockton Muni bus in The City. In each of these places, I met someone unexpectedly who brightened my day — and, in some cases, changed my life.

    Serendipitous moments are unexpected and fortunate discoveries or occurrences which enhance our life in some way. In these moments, we manage to make connections with people we don’t know. They occur when we happen to meet and interact with the right person in the right place at the right time. 

    In her article “Serendipitous Moments — More than Just Chance,” writer Danielle Gruen confirms that such experiences have a powerful effect on us. She also acknowledges that many people consider these experiences to be nothing more than a coincidence. “Making the most of such unexpected moments comes not with detailed planning or forethought, but instead with positive thought, the act of living in the moment, seizing opportunity, and creating action.”

    Psychologist John Krumboltz introduced the concept of his Planned Happenstance Theory. He states that people with optimistic qualities are more likely to capitalize on chance events and turn serendipity into opportunity. This might be why some people have such experiences more often than others.

    There are a few things we can do to increase the likelihood of experiencing serendipitous moments. We can approach unplanned events with optimism, rather than fear. We can be more consciously aware of the possibility of meeting new people in various settings. And we can engage in self-reflection to process our reactions and feelings. 

    I am grateful for the serendipitous moments I’ve had in my life, and I look forward to experiencing more of them in the future.

  • 52 Years

    “The words ‘I love you’
    make the most beautiful
    music recognized by
    human ears.”
    Sidney Poitier

    Let’s take a look back to 52 years ago today. Just a minute before midnight, on Monday, July 9, 1973, the Union Jack was lowered for the last time as the official flag of the Bahamas. When the clock struck midnight, a crowd of approximately 50,000 people watched the black, turquoise, and gold flag of the Bahamas being raised over the newly-independent nation.

    The colors of the Bahamian flag symbolize the country’s waters (turquoise), the bright Bahamian sun (gold), and the strength and vigor of the Bahamian people (black). 

    I first set foot in the Bahamas in August 1974. The country had just celebrated their first anniversary as a nation. Bahamian pride was evident across the islands. As a new expatriate teacher, one of about a dozen teaching at Saint Augustine’s College that year, I was warmly greeted by Sir Milo Butler, the Governor General of the Bahamas, during the new teacher orientation on campus. 

    I had the opportunity to visit Nassau this past March. Much has changed in the fifty years since I taught at SAC, yet much has remained the same. I guess it’s no surprise that in a country with an economy based on tourism, most of the significant improvements have been made to accommodate visitors to the island. A short drive “over the hill,” to the areas where most Bahamians live and work, reveals neighborhoods which appear to be quite similar to what they were in 1975.

    Celebrities with Bahamian roots include Sidney Poitier, whose nephew Cedrick was one of my students, Harry Belafonte, Shaunae Miller-Uibo, a SAC graduate who won consecutive Gold Medal in the 2016 and 2020 Olympics, and Buddy Hield, a shooting guard for the Golden State Warriors. Of course, there are many more, but these are just a few of the more recognizable names. 

    Regular readers of this blog know that I like quotes. These two offer wisdom from Bahamian performers:

    “I don’t think we are a species or a people that can exist without making mistakes somewhere along the line.”
    ~ Harry Belafonte

    “You don’t have to become something you’re not to be better than you were.”
    ~ Sidney Poitier

    Happy Bahamian Independence Day to my friends in the Bahamas. I’m looking forward to seeing you again in November. 

  • Blowout!

    “There are only
    two seasons:
    winter and baseball.”
    Bill Veeck, Jr.

    I was planning to write tonight’s blog post about the baseball game I attended with my sister, Cathy, today at Oracle Park. The Giants played the Philadelphia Phillies. Last night (Tuesday), the Giants scored three runs in the bottom of the ninth inning to stun the Phillies. Giants’ catcher, Patrick Bailey, hit a walk-off inside-the-park home run. Today’s game was a little different. Philadelphia prevailed today 13-0. Ouch!

    Since there is so little to write about today’s game, I’ll focus on the rest of my day in The City. 

    Before the game, Cathy and I enjoyed a delicious lunch Frankie’s, located just east of the ballpark at South Beach Harbor. Their “smash burger,” which comes with a side of fries, was excellent. I try to avoid eating French fries, but the fries at Frankie’s are the best I’ve ever tasted. So lunch was a win.

    Cathy and I left Oracle Park when the score reached 11-0. The likelihood of a Giants’ comeback was pretty much nonexistent, so we decided to get on with our day. Cathy went back to the train station for the ride to her home in San Mateo. I decided that there were still enough hours and sunlight in the day to do some walking before boarding the train. I walked from Oracle Park to Caffé Trieste in North Beach, where I enjoyed a cold Italian soda and a raspberry thumbprint cookie. From there I boarded the 30-Stockton bus for the ride back to the train station.

    On the bus, I met a delightful young woman from Michigan. She is a flight attendant for United Airlines and was enjoying a day off in The City. We had a delightful conversation, during which she told me her name was Emily. Of course, I told her about my granddaughter, Emily, and that her name was an acronym: Every Moment I’m Loving You!

    As it turned out, Emily was headed to the train station, too, so we were able to continue our conversation all the way to San Mateo, where she has a place to stay between flights in and out of San Francisco International Airport. It’s always nice to meet someone who is content with life and who truly enjoys the work she does. Her job with the airlines has enable her to visit 30 different countries — so far!

    I got home at 8:00 p.m. I thought I’d go straight to bed, but I decided to write this blog post tonight, rather than tomorrow, because tomorrow is a special day and I want to devote tomorrow’s blog post to that occasion.

    So I’ll wrap up tonight’s post with a few baseball quotes I like:

    “Man, this is baseball. You gotta stop thinking, just have fun.” 
    The Sandlot

    “Baseball is the only field of endeavor where a man can succeed three times out of ten and be considered a good performer.” 
    Ted Williams

    “Remember these two things: play hard and have fun.” 
    Tony Gwynn

  • Back Home

    “There’s nothing half
    so pleasant as
    coming home again.”
    Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

    We are home! Our plane landed at San José International Airport just after midnight last night, bringing an end to our 40th anniversary vacation. It was an amazing eleven days, yet it was a pleasure to sleep in our own bed last night.

    Much to my surprise, I woke up at 7:00 this morning feeling refreshed and ready to start my day. As is so often the case after traveling, I spent most of the morning doing laundry. I also had the opportunity to reorganize my home office, which was in a state of disarray after all the construction work that was done following a water leak from upstairs.

    As I look ahead to the rest of July, I have a few things to look forward to: a Giants’ game with my sister, Cathy, tomorrow in The City; the start of the City of Campbell Summer Concert Series on Thursday evening; a St. Gabriel Class of 1968 picnic on Saturday; then two weeks with nothing on my calendar (yet).  The month ends with a family wedding (Kathy’s niece) and a visit from my brother, Tom. I’m grateful to have such an uncluttered schedule for the next few weeks.

    August looks to be a relaxing month, as well. At this time, I have only a few plans: lunch with my friend, Penny, on the 5th; more Summer Concerts in Campbell; a routine dental appointment; and our annual family golf tournament and barbecue in Concord at the end of the month. By then, classes will have resumed for Tom, Hillaray, Steve, and Morgan at their respective schools. As for the grandkids, Liam will be in 5th grade, Emily in 3rd, Penny in kindergarten, Scarlett in preschool, and Henry will be home with Kathy and me. 

    Kathy is going on a two-week pilgrimage in September — visits to the significant sites of Saint Ignatius of Loyola in Spain and Rome — with my brother, Tom, another Jesuit priest, and eighteen others. I will have the opportunity for some one-on-one time with Henry during this time, something I am looking forward to with great anticipation. He and I will be exploring the Bay Area together while Kathy is away. 

    At times like this, it is easy to be grateful. The balance of activities and free time is ideal. I’ll have more than enough time to do some walking, a bit of reading, a good amount of writing, and time to socialize with friends. Life is good. 

  • Goodbye Bristol

    Sunset on Bristol Harbor

    “To feel gratitude
    and not express it
    is like wrapping a gift
    and not giving it.”
    William Arthur Ward

    It’s Monday morning, July 7th. We’re heading back to our home in San José today with hearts filled with gratitude. These past ten days have been a true gift to both Kathy and me. 

    Our week on the American Star, as I’ve mentioned previously, exceeded all expectations. We were blessed with excellent accommodations, an impressive team of crew members, and the opportunity to meet a number of inspiring people from around the country who were also enjoying the cruise. We could not have asked for a better experience.

    We arrived in Bristol, Rhode Island on the Fourth of July, greeted by my friend and high school classmate Steve Aveson. He escorted us to his home, just a short walk from the pier where our ship had docked. There, we met up with Steve’s wife, Karen, his daughter, Olivia, and a couple from Baltimore (one of whom is the granddaughter of Ogden Nash) who were also staying at the Aveson home for the weekend. After dropping our bags off in the guest cottage, we headed down the block to Hope Street to experience the oldest Fourth of July parade in the country. What an amazing experience!

    Yesterday, we spent the day sightseeing with Steve, Karen, and Olivia. Bristol is a tight-knit community where people not only know each other, but seem to genuinely care about each other. Walking through town with Steve, I felt as though I was walking with the mayor. It seemed that everyone knew Steve and Steve knew everyone. I wasn’t surprised. That’s just how he is. His outgoing personality, his engaging smile, and his attentiveness to each person he encounters enables him to navigate the streets of Bristol with confidence and charisma. 

    Karen, too, has the gift of hospitality. Ever attentive to the needs of her friends and guests, she has a way of making everyone feel very much “at home.” She and Steve make a great team.

    Later this morning, Steve will drive us to the airport in Providence and Olivia to the train station in Providence, where she’ll catch a train back to her home in Manhattan. 

    It can be quite a challenge to express one’s gratitude when they have been absolutely overwhelmed with hospitality and graciousness. That’s how I feel this morning. There’s no way I can adequately express how grateful I am this morning, but I’m pretty sure that both Steve and Karen know. For them, treating others the way they’ve treated us these past few days is commonplace. For us, being welcomed into the home of friends and into a warm, welcoming community like Bristol is a rare occasion for which we are incredibly grateful.

    Our bags are packed and we’re ready to go — happy to be going home, yet regretful to be leaving this amazing town and our incredibly hospitable hosts.