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)

  • Sunday, 03/01

  • Write it!

    “When you rise
    in the morning,
    give thanks for the light,
    for your life,
    for your strength.
    Give thanks for your food
    and for the joy of living.
    If you see no reason
    to give thanks,
    the fault lies in yourself.”
    Tecumseh 

    It’s Saturday morning. We all have so much for which to be grateful. Take advantage of this weekend to get out and do something worth writing about. Each one of us has the potential to make a significant difference in the world around us, even if we do so by simply making a positive difference in the life of one person. Who will that person be? How will you make our world a better place this weekend? 

    If you were going to write a book about this weekend, what would you like to to write about? Everyone has a story to share. Everyone has an opportunity to brighten someone’s day. Get out there and do it. Leave a positive mark on the world this weekend by doing something for someone else. What you do matters!

  • Miracles

  • Give & Take

  • Snow

    “Despite all I have seen 
    and experienced, 
    I still get the same simple 
    thrill out of glimpsing a 
    tiny patch of snow.” 
    Edmund Hillary

    Yeah, go ahead and laugh. Yes, I’m talking to you — my friends from the Midwest and East Coast. You guys know snow. Real snow. And you guys know cold… real cold like I’ve never experienced. 

    Growing up in San Francisco, we didn’t get snow, that is, until January 21, 1962. On that morning, our neighbor, Lillian Gray, woke us up with an early-morning phone call to announce that it had snowed overnight. Sure enough, our backyard had a layer of snow, perhaps about an inch, at best. 

    It happened again on February 5, 1976. It is said that as much as five inches accumulated on the top of Twin Peaks, while the Sunset District, where we lived, got about an inch. 

    Only once in my life have I experienced real snowfall. I had taken a group of students on a weekend ski trip to North Lake Tahoe. We were staying at the Fire Light Lodge in Tahoe Vista when it was brought to my attention that snow had begun to fall outside. I stepped out onto the patio outside my room and stood in amazement as I watched the snowflakes fall silently to the ground. I was mesmerized by the silence. When it rains, you hear it. When it snows, the world seems to go silent.

    I’ve lived in the Santa Clara Valley for a little more than 53 years now. While we don’t get snow on a regular basis here, we are treated to the view of snow on the peaks of the hills to the east of San José almost every year. This past week was one of those times.

    As mountaineer Edmund Hillary, the first man to reach the summit of Mount Everest, said so eloquently, “…I still get the same simple thrill out of glimpsing a tiny patch of snow.” I feel the same way. To look up toward Mount Hamilton, and along the range to the north of that peak, and see a solid blanket of snow is an absolute treat for me. I’m not at all tempted to climb in the car to drive up to play in the snow. I am totally content to simply savor the beauty from here on the valley floor. 

    I mentioned the cold… It was 37º when I woke up several mornings last week. That’s cold,… for us. So when I hear of temps in other cities dipping well below 0º, I can only shiver with compassion, hoping that people stay safe and warm despite the conditions. 

    I am grateful for the west coast climate. I’m thankful that I’ve never had to shovel a driveway, drive my car down a snowy road, or experience anything associated with the term “wind chill factor.” I just keep reminding myself that summer will be here soon.  

  • Sunday, 02/22

  • Writers on Writing

    “Never say never.”
    Charles Dickens

    A few words of wisdom from well-known writers about writing…

    At this point in time, having just published my seventh book, A Bahamian Odyssey, I’m fairly certain that this will be my last book. When I was younger, I had a “bucket list” item of writing and publishing a book some day. Now that I’ve accomplished this goal seven times, I think I’ve said all I want to say. Despite my certainty about this, however, I’m reminded by the great author Charles Dickens to “Never say never.”

    Prior to publishing any of my books, I don’t think I had a specific motivation for my desire to write and publish. It was just something I wanted to do. Through my writing journey, I’ve come to a clear understanding of what motivates me to write. I mentioned this in the Introduction to my book The Ambassador of 38th Avenue, where I quoted a line from John Steinbeck’s short story, Tularecito. In that piece, he wrote, “After the bare requisites of living and reproducing, man wants most to leave some record of himself, a proof, perhaps, that he really existed.” I can relate to this.

    In his book, The Courage to Write: How Writers Transcend Fear, author Ralph Keyes reaffirms this belief. He tells us, “One of the most fundamental of human fears is that our existence will go unnoticed.” Of course, publishing any number of books is no guarantee that a writer will be remembered, but it might increase the possibility.

    For most writers, I would think, having a story to share would be the most basic reason for diving into the waters of writing and publishing. As William Faulkner once said, “If a story is in you, it has to come out.”  Poet Maya Angelou sounds a more urgent call. She wrote, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”

    We all have a story to tell. We all have experiences which, if we took the time to write about them, might be of interest to others. Some of these stories might provide the insight and wisdom a reader needs to deal with something in his or her own life. In her book, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath, Ms. Plath states, “Everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it.” Yes, writing takes courage.

    Chilean-American author Isabel Allende said quite simply, “Write what should not be forgotten.” This, perhaps, more than anything else, is what prompted me to write A Bahamian Odyssey.

    In his book, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, legendary author Stephen King spells out pretty clearly what writing is and what it is not. He wrote, “Writing isn’t about making money, getting famous, getting dates, getting laid, or making friends. In the end, it’s about enriching the lives of those who will read your work, and enriching your own life, as well.” It is certainly my hope that my writing, to some degree, has enriched the lives of those who have read what I’ve written. I know, for sure, that writing has enriched my own life.

    W. Somerset Maugham was an English writer known for his plays, novels, and short stories. He once mentioned something I think is worth sharing. He wrote, “There are three rules for writing a novel. Unfortunately, no one knows what they are.” In other words, there is no one, tried and true, failsafe recipe for writing a good book. Authors have tremendous freedom in how they present their stories. Recognizing this is liberating, because enables me to embrace the wisdom of John Steinbeck, who said, “And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.”

    Author Jodi Picoult offers these simple words about getting started with writing your own story. She said, “You can’t edit a blank page.”

  • A Tribute

    Carl Guerra was a developmentally-disabled man who lived in my neighborhood in San Francisco. He consistently inspired me as I saw him interact with people of all ages throughout my formative years. I wrote this poem fifteen years ago, not long after Carl death. I share it today in an attempt to keep the memory of this Sunset District legend alive. He was an amazing man.

    A Tribute to Carl

    Ortega to Wawona Street,
    and places in between,
    a special Sunset District man
    could frequently be seen.
    He’d ride up on his bicycle,
    and flash his killer smile,
    and then he’d stay and talk with us
    for more than just awhile.

    Carl’s gentle charm and kindly ways
    endeared him to us all;
    he’s now a Sunset legend,
    a man we all recall.
    He shared his simple life with us
    and brightened up our days –
    a constant inspiration
    in so very many ways.

    I’d see him down at Fairlane Foods
    or near Ulloa School;
    wherever I would see him,
    gentle kindness was his rule.
    He’d hang around South Sunset,
    and he’d watch us play some ball.
    He’d cheer for all the kids he knew –
    he seemed to know us all.

    “Beep-beep, honk-honk, aaaoooogah!”
    He’d cruise slowly down the street,
    and share his love and laughter
    with the people he would meet.
    He knew the names of almost all
    the neighbors he would see,
    and everyone knew Carl,
    for that’s the way it had to be.

    I’m grateful for the memories
    and for the gifts he shared.
    One thing was clear about our Carl –
    you always knew he cared.
    The people of the Sunset
    will remember him with love.
    We know he’s watching over us
    and smiling from above.

    ©2011

  • A Gift of Love

  • The 7 PM Call

    “The hardest thing in life is 
    wanting to call your Mom 
    and knowing she 
    won’t answer again.”
    Trent Shelton

    It’s a strange feeling. It hasn’t happened to me for quite some time, but it happened tonight. After finishing dinner, I walked upstairs to my office and had an overwhelming desire to call my Mom. I wanted to tell her about the publication of A Bahamian Odyssey. She was my #1 fan when it came to my writing. She would have been happy to hear the news and would have told me to be sure to get her a copy as soon as possible. Yeah,… can’t do that anymore.

    In my childhood years, my siblings and I were often called upon to sing at family gatherings with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. It’s an Irish thing. The words to one song I recall singing quite often continue to resound in my head:

    A mother’s love is a blessing
    no matter where you roam.
    Keep her while she’s living,
    for you’ll miss her when she’s gone.
    Love her as in childhood,
    now feeble, old, and grey,
    sure you’ll never miss a mother’s love
    ’til she’s buried beneath the clay.

    The lyrics mean so much more to me now than they ever did when I sang that traditional Irish tune as a child.