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)

  • 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.’’

  • Back to Work

    “First drafts don’t  
    have to be perfect.  
    They just have  
    to be written.”   
    Seth Godin

    For the past fifty years, I’ve had a desire to write a book about my experiences teaching in a Bahamian high school when I was a mere twenty years old. Through most of those years, I had neither the time nor the self-discipline to get started on this project. When I retired from teaching in June 2015, I began my second career as a writer. Since that time, I’ve published six books, all of which are available on Amazon. I’ve written about gratitude, life lessons, fatherhood, and, in an illustrated children’s book, the joys of Cherries in the Summer. 

    In the past couple of years, I’ve been jotting down detailed memories about my experiences and the people I met in The Bahamas fifty years ago. Now it’s time to get to work writing the book. At this point in my life, as we embark upon the journey of a new year, I have the time, motivation, and self-discipline to get the job done. My goal is to have the book published by June 1. 

    My recent visit to Nassau in November, a trip I took with my high school classmate Dan Pasini, who shared the experience of teaching in The Bahamas in the 1974-75 academic year, reminded me of what a special year that was in my life. I’m looking forward to tapping into Dan’s memories of that unique experience and including some of his insights and perspectives in the book.

    Author James Lendall Basford once said, “The next best thing to the enjoyment of a good time is the recollection of it.” I am very much looking forward to this journey down memory lane, though as I jot down notes to get started, I’m realizing that the book will have to be the PG version of that memorable year.

  • An Unexpected Visit

    “You will always be  
    in my heart…   
    because in there,   
    you’re still alive.”        
    Jamie Cirello 

    “Hey,… wait up!”

    I heard the man’s voice behind me. It sounded eerily familiar, but I didn’t give it much thought. I was walking alone in The City. No one knew I was there that day, so I knew he wasn’t talking to me. I had taken CalTrain from Santa Clara Station in the South Bay to 4th & King, and I was walking along the Embarcadero headed toward Fisherman’s Wharf. Then, I heard it again.

    “Hey,… wait up!” The voice sounded just like my father. Dad died on the last day of July 2008. This was mid-October 2025. Curiosity got the better of me, so I turn to take a quick peek.

    “Dad?” I responded in astonishment. There he was, wearing a San Francisco Fire Department sweatshirt and his signature bucket hat. He looked much younger than the man who would have celebrated his 100th birthday on October 25th. In fact, he looked younger than me that day.

    “You’re a fast walker,” he exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to catch up to you for the past two blocks.”

    “Dad?” I asked again, unable to comprehend exactly what I was seeing.

    “I’d love to join you on your walk,… if you don’t mind.”

    “I, uh… No, I don’t mind at all,” I stammered. “But how…” Before I could finish my question, Dad gave me a bear hug and suggested that I slow my pace a bit so that he could keep up with me. 

    “I know,…” he said with a tone of compassion, “…you weren’t expecting to see me. You probably have no idea that I’ve been with you on dozens of your walks here in The City during the past few years. I especially enjoyed the one you took in July, on the anniversary of my passing. I’m so glad you stopped in for Mass at St. Paul’s that morning. Those hills on Clipper and Diamond Streets were a killer, but I did my best to keep up.”

    “You were with me?” I asked.

    “I sure was. The cinnamon oatmeal pancakes you got for breakfast at Chloe’s on Church Street that morning looked and smelled amazing. I would love to have taken a bite or two.”

    “You were…” I stopped and looked into Dad’s eyes. “You were with me at Chloe’s?”

    “Yes, I was. When I was just a kid living at 25th & Sanchez, it was a real treat for me to go there for breakfast now and then. It wasn’t called Chloe’s at the time. I don’t remember the name of the place, but the food was delicious. C’mon,… let’s keep walking.”

    And that’s how the day got started. I was walking along the Embarcadero in San Francisco with my Dad,… who had died seventeen years earlier. For a while, I tried to make sense of what was happening, but I couldn’t. It just didn’t make sense. So instead of over-thinking it, I decided to embrace the moment, to engage in conversation with him, and to savor every moment of our time together.

    We talked about Dad’s days in the fire department. He told me several stories, only a few of which I had heard previously, of memorable fires he had fought in various neighborhoods in The City. He spoke fondly of his relationships with his colleagues, and described how they would often sit around in the kitchen between calls drinking coffee and discussing everything from the woes of the San Francisco Giants to the possibility of life after death.

    He enjoyed a good laugh recalling the ingenious pranks Louie Grossman would play on passers-by outside Rescue One when it was located in the alley off 5th & Mission. And he spoke of his commitment to studying for promotional exams, sitting at the dining room table in our home on 38th Avenue with Ron McInnis, on their days off. 

    Dad got a bit emotional describing what he went through when, shortly after being appointed to the position of Battalion Chief, he was informed that, due to the serious back injury he had sustained on the job, he would not be allowed to continue his career in the department. 

    Then Dad suddenly stopped. “Hey,…” he said, seemingly annoyed, “…have you seen what they’re doing to the new S.I. campus?” Apparently, he was aware that just fifty-six years after the construction of what was then the “new” campus, facilities he had worked tirelessly with Father Harry Carlin to raise funds to build, they had torn down the three large buildings at the north end of the campus — the Carlin Commons, the Orradre Chapel, and McGucken Hall, which had served as the residence of the Jesuit community since 1970, to make room for the construction of a new, state-of-the-art learning center. He was clearly not pleased with this development.

    As we approached the fire station on the Embarcadero, which is home to Engine 35 and the fire boats, I asked Dad what he thought of the new floating station behind the original structure. He chuckled and told me that he could never have worked there, because he’d most likely have gotten motion sickness from the constant rocking back and forth.

    When we got to the Ferry Building, I pointed across the street to Justin Herman Plaza and asked Dad if he remembered that day back in the late ‘80s when he and I had walked together from the Palace of the Legion of Honor, through Sea Cliff and the Presidio, under the Golden Gate Bridge, down to Crissy Field and the Marina Green, then along Fisherman’s Wharf and the Embarcadero before stopping at Justin Herman Plaza for an ice cream to end our epic walk. Of course, he remembered it well. We both laughed, because at one point during that walk, while hiking up the steep hill from Baker Beach to the bridge, I didn’t want to admit that I was having a difficult time keeping up with him, while at the same time he didn’t want to admit that he was struggling to keep up with me. Men can be like that sometimes!

    Standing there in front of the Ferry Building, Dad suddenly said, “Hey, I gotta go. I love you.” He gave me another bear hug, this one significantly longer than the previous hug. I didn’t want to let go. I just kept holding on, and holding on,… 

    “I love you, too,” I replied. And just like that, he was gone — and I woke up… with tears streaming down my face.   

  • Something New

    I normally write my blog articles the day prior to publication. Therefore, consistent with my desire to reclaim Sundays as sacred time, my Monday morning blog posts starting today will consist only of a positive quote — words of wisdom to motivate us to live a good life, to treat others with compassion, and to do what we can to make a positive difference in the world. If I comment on the quote at all, it will be brief. My hope is that these words will inspire you to give serious consideration to how they might apply to your life.

  • Sundays

    “Resting is not a  
    waste of time.  
    It is an investment  
    in well-being.”   
    Adam Grant

    When I say that I have no regrets in life, a claim I have made on several occasions, I’m not being completely honest with myself. Of course I have regrets. One such regret is how often I squandered the gift of Sundays over the past thirty years. 

    In my childhood, there was no question about how I would spend my Sundays. My family would attend the 10:00 Mass at Saint Gabriel Church. After Mass, we would return home and Mom would prepare a feast for breakfast. Occasionally, immediately after exiting the church, Dad would hand me a dollar bill and ask me to walk down to Billy’s Donut Shop on Taraval Street to pick up a dozen donuts. (Yes, I could purchase a dozen donuts with a $1 bill.) On special occasions, Dad would make gin fizzes for himself and Mom, and a batch without alcohol for us kids. Then we’d spend much of the remainder of the day visiting relatives. 

    A lot has changed in the world and in my life since the ‘60s. I don’t go to church as often as I did in the past. Throughout my teaching years, I devoted too much Sunday time to preparing for the week ahead. I spent countless Sunday afternoon hours in my classroom grading papers, developing lesson plans, and making photocopies of handouts and tests I would need in the upcoming week. I did all this because it was important to me to be well-prepared for my classes. I also had the desire to give the appearance that being prepared was effortless for me. 

    Now that I’m retired, Sunday can be much like any other day of the week unless I make a conscientious effort to make it different. Since the pandemic, my Mass attendance has been rare. When the weather was warmer, Kathy and I enjoyed going to the downtown Campbell Farmers Market on Sunday mornings. I have a strong desire to reclaim Sunday as a special day in the week. 

    Whether I attend Sunday Mass, take a walk along the Los Gatos Creek Trail, or devote some quiet time to reading, I have a strong desire to use each Sunday morning as a time of reflection and gratitude. I would also like to use Sunday afternoon and evening time for getting together here at our home with friends and family in small groups. The commandment to “Keep holy the Lord’s day” does not specifically mandate Sunday Mass attendance at a local church. There are countless other opportunities to make the day holy, as well. Taking time each Sunday to focus on gratitude is certainly an appropriate way to do this.

    Sundays are an excellent opportunity let go of the burdens of the past and to embrace the present with an open heart. On this wonderful Sunday, don’t forget to be thankful for the little things in life. It is in these little things, and in the people we encounter each day, that we experience the presence of God in our lives.

  • The Game

    “The greatest test of  
    courage on earth is to  
    bear defeat without  
    losing heart.” 
    Robert Green Ingersoll

    As I was born and raised in San Francisco, it should come as no surprise that I follow the San Francisco 49ers. I wouldn’t describe myself as an avid fan. There have been seasons when I’ve enjoyed watching them play (usually the seasons they’ve been winning), and there have been times when I had absolutely no interest in following them (their losing seasons). I just wanted to put that on the table, because it’s the truth. In fact, I’m not a fan of professional football at all.

    Still, when the Chicago Bears came to town last week for a showdown with the 49ers, I got caught-up in the game. Until tonight, it was the only game this season that I watched from start to finish. I can also say that it was just about the most exciting professional football game I’ve ever seen. Both teams played well. Both teams were deserving of a victory. The display of offense by both teams was downright impressive. The 49ers emerged victorious.

    The Seattle Seahawks came to town tonight. A win by the 49ers would guarantee them home-field advantage throughout the playoffs — including the Super Bowl, which will be played right here at Levi Stadium on Sunday, February 8th. A loss tonight would still allow San Francisco to continue in the playoffs, but they would have to play on the road and would miss out on a bye-week next weekend. The game tonight was a total blowout.

    The final score of 13-3 does not begin to tell the story of the absolute dominance of the Seahawks throughout the game. From start to finish, on both offense and defense, Seattle throttled the 49ers. For San Francisco fans, it was just plain ugly. For Seahawks fans, a win is a win, but even a dominant performance like they witnessed tonight had to be tainted by Seattle’s inability to put points on the board. Yes, they won the game convincingly, but the score will undoubtedly be a wake-up call for Seahawks players and coaches.

    I don’t normally write a second blog post in a day, but having watched tonight’s game, and seeing the 49ers looking so impotent from start to finish, I realized that this might be a good time for true fans of the team to reflect on one of my favorite quotes from former Green Bay Packers’ head coach Vince Lombardi. He said, “If you can’t accept losing, you can’t win.”  

    Legendary Olympian Wilma Rudolph also had some words of wisdom to share about winning and losing. She said, ”Winning is great, sure, but if you are really going to do something in life, the secret is learning how to lose. Nobody goes undefeated all the time. If you can pick up after a crushing defeat, and go on to win again, you are going to be a champion someday.”

    The 49ers are in the playoffs. If they play well enough, there is a good chance they will earn the right to redeem themselves in the NFC championship game, most likely against the Seahawks in Seattle, on January 25th. Before that match-up, however, they must take care of business in the next two weeks.

  • Word Play

    “Diaper backward
    spells ‘repaid.’
    Think about it.”
    Marshall McLuhan

    I have no words of wisdom to share today, nor do I have any meaningful stories to tell. The purpose of today’s blog post is pure fun and entertainment. 

    From my earliest days in school, I was always more comfortable with words than numbers. I am functionally literate in math. I can add, subtract, multiply, and divide. I can balance a checkbook and manage a budget fairly well. I can estimate the amount of paint needed to paint a room, I have excellent time management skills, and I can estimate distances, travel times, and fuel efficiency with accuracy.

    My comfort zone, however, is not with numbers, it’s with words. I love words. I love writing. I love manipulating words to write poems. I also enjoy learning such trivial things as the meanings of acronyms (Scuba: Self-contained underwater breathing apparatus; Radar: Radio detection and ranging; UNICEF: United Nations International Children’s Emergency Fund; SWAT: Special Weapons and Tactics; and BART: Bay Area Rapid Transit.) 

    Today, I’d like to share a few entertaining anagrams. What is an anagram? It’s a word, phrase, or name formed by rearranging the letters of another word or phrase. For example, earth and heart, listen and silent, night and thing, or ring and grin. The following acronyms are a bit more entertaining:

    Dormitory  –  Dirty room 
    Slot machines  –  Cash lost in ‘em 
    Astronomer  –  Moon starer
    The eyes  –  They see
    The Morse code  –  Here come dots
    Snooze alarms  –  Alas! No more Z’s 
    A decimal point  –  I’m a dot in place  
    A gentleman  –  Elegant man
    Conversation – Voices rant on 
    Eleven plus two – Twelve plus one.
    A persecution – I run to escape  
    Statue of Liberty – Built to stay free 
    Vacation times – I’m not as active  

    Now wasn’t that fun?

  • Discernment

    “We all have things  
    we don’t talk about,…” 
    Jamie Ford

    [Heads-Up: Today’s post is unusually long — 7-minute read]

    What Jamie Ford says in the quote above is absolutely true — we all have things we don’t talk about, and that’s okay. I’m sure that people have perfectly good reasons for not talking about some aspects of their lives or something from their past which they feel no particular need or desire to share. It’s important to acknowledge, however, that the quote above is only a partial quote. The rest of what Ford says is significant,… and powerful. “We all have things we don’t talk about,… even though, more often than not, those are the things that make us who we are.”

    I have never intentionally concealed the fact that I gave serious consideration to the possibility that I might have a vocation to the Jesuit priesthood. This is not a part of my past of which I am in any way embarrassed. The six-year journey of discernment played a huge part in who I am today. I tend to downplay it in my conversations and writing because to explain it can be incredibly time consuming. I will attempt to do so here today because it was exactly fifty years ago that I spent five months in the Jesuit novitiate in Montecito, California.

    When my brother, Tom, entered the Society of Jesus (Jesuits) immediately following his graduation from high school, I’m sure the thought of doing so after my own graduation must have crossed my mind, but I didn’t give it a lot of thought at the time. Throughout my four years at Saint Ignatius, a number of Jesuits made comments to me along the lines of “You’d make a good Jesuit.” While I considered those to be compliments, I can’t say that I ever gave serious consideration to the possibility. During those years at S.I., I enjoyed an active social life. I did, however, work part-time as a receptionist at the Jesuit residence on campus. And at the invitation of one of my Jesuit teachers, I spent several weeks working in Jamaica in the summer before my senior year. I certainly became familiar with Jesuit life. 

    When I graduated from Saint Ignatius in 1972, at the urging of the same Jesuit who had taken me to Jamaica, I accepted a job working as a prefect (resident assistant) in the student dormitory at Bellarmine College Prep in San José, another Jesuit educational institution. During my second year at Bellarmine, I was offered another unique opportunity by the same Jesuit priest — to teach in a Catholic high school in The Bahamas for one year. I accepted the offer.

    At the same time I left Bellarmine to go to Nassau, five of the college students who were working with me as prefects in the dormitory all entered the Jesuit novitiate. I had not thought of that job as a training ground for future Jesuits. Apparently, I was clueless.

    The year in Nassau was spent living in a guest room of a Benedictine monastery and teaching Religion in the 7th- through 12th-grade school. It was during that year that I was confronted with the reality that while the thought of the Jesuit priesthood had been in the back of my mind for almost six years, I had never completely ruled it out as a possibility. I made the decision to apply for the Jesuits — not because I had decided to become a priest, but because I had not yet decided not to become one.

    When I arrived at the Novitiate in September 1975, I was totally honest with my spiritual director, Leo Rock, S.J. I told him I had not decided to become a Jesuit, but that I’d been giving some thought to it for six years. He assured me that I was in the right place, explaining that the two-year novitiate was a place and time of discernment. I asked him how I would know if that was my calling. Leo smiled knowingly and replied, “You’ll know.”

    In the fall of 1975, I participated in a 30-day silent Ignatian retreat. I thought, for sure, that I’d have my answer by the time the retreat ended. I didn’t. Day after day through the month of December, I kept wondering if I was in the right place, so I would ask Leo, again, how I would know. I got the same response.

    I enjoyed my time in the novitiate. The facilities were impressive. The other 23 novices in my class were good guys. The food was amazing. I settled into the daily routine of classes, chores, liturgy, and prayerful reflection. Then, one morning in late January, everything was different.

    Things were normal enough until I went to the dining hall for breakfast. The usual feast of just about anything one might hope to find for breakfast was there. I picked up a plate and walked through the line. For some strange reason, nothing looked appetizing. I put my plate away and went outside to take a long walk. The same thing happened again at both lunch and dinner. I must have eaten something that day, but I don’t recall doing so. I felt so unsettled.

    The next morning was a similar experience. I went for breakfast, but again I didn’t eat. I attended my classes, did a few chores, participated in daily Mass, then returned to the dining hall for lunch. Again, I had no desire to eat. Instead of going for another walk, I wandered over to the empty chapel and sat in the back row. I can’t really say I prayed. I just sat there, which, in retrospect, I can now recognize as a valuable form of prayer. And that’s when it happened. When I thought about leaving the novitiate, I was filled with immense joy and inner peace. But then I thought that I hadn’t given it enough time, that I should stay longer. This thought was accompanied by feelings of uneasiness and distress. 

    I sat in that chapel for at least three hours, going back and forth between the two options. The responses in my body — my heart, my gut — to the two possibilities were amazingly consistent. I stood up, walked out of the chapel, and went to see Leo in his office.

    When I told him what was happening, he smiled kindly and said, “I told you that you would know.” He recommended that I give the decision two weeks, which I was happy to do. During those two weeks, every moment of every day was filled with peace and consolation. It’s not that I didn’t like the novitiate or the people there. I enjoyed the time I spent there immensely. It was simply clear to me that I did not have the same calling to the priesthood that many of the other novices were experiencing. 

    As I mentioned, I have had no reason to conceal this brief chapter of my life. It was time well spent. I have never regretted entering the novitiate, and I’ve never regretted leaving it. It is an essential part of who I am today — fifty years later.   

  • Bring It On!

    “Never underestimate  
    the power you have  
    to take your life  
    in a new direction.”       
    Germany Kent

    Don’t look back! What’s done is done. While we cannot change the past, we do have the power to affect our future. Where is it that you want to go?

    I was driving down the street a few days ago and had a strange thought. There are many things we all take for granted in our cars. One such item is the rear-view mirror. (Actually, there are two more of them attached to the sides of our cars.) They are there for a reason. They serve a valuable purpose. At the same time, they present a potential danger.

    As I’m driving down the street, my primary focus is on the road ahead of me. I don’t look just at the car ahead of me. I look well beyond that — to the car in front of the one in front of me, to the next intersection, and to potential obstacles I may encounter several blocks down the road. At the same time I am focused on what’s directly ahead of me, I have a responsibility to be aware of what’s happening behind and around me. This is the purpose of rear-view mirrors.

    The potential danger these mirrors present is that I might see something behind me that catches my attention. It might be an emergency vehicle, with lights flashing, approaching from behind. When such is the case, I immediately turn my attention to being able to pull over to the side of the road to safely get out of the way. Or I might look back and see an overly-aggressive driver tailgating my car, in which case I usually do what I can to switch lanes to avoid conflict. In both of these cases, the rear-view mirror serves a useful purpose.

    But what if I look back and see a stunningly attractive woman in the car behind me? What if I look back and notice that the couple in the car behind me is engaged in a vicious argument? What if I look back and recognize a famous celebrity behind the wheel of the car behind me? At times like these, the distraction, especially if prolonged, poses an immediate danger.

    No one needs to be told that paying attention to where we’re going is a critical factor in safe driving. This is true in life, too. A brief glance back has the potential to provide us with a feeling of safety and security, but our primary focus must be forward to where we’re going. 

    To move successfully and efficiently in the direction we want to go requires self-discipline and conscientious attention. It is imperative that we not allow ourselves to be distracted by the past. Motivational speaker Paul J. Meyer stated, “Productivity is never an accident. It is always the result of a commitment to excellence, intelligent planning, and focused effort.” Whatever our goals and aspirations might be at this point in our lives, these are key ingredients to consider as we begin this new year.  

    For some, the start of a new year is much like a breath of fresh air which can leave us feeling energized and ready to take on whatever challenges come our way. For others, the new year might be a time of angst if we are unhappy or unfulfilled with our situation in life. The words of author F. Scott Fitzgerald offer a bit of encouragement: “It’s never too late to become who you want to be. I hope you live a life that you’re proud of, and if you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start over.”

    Wishing you all the best in 2026!