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)

  • Adjusting Priorities

    “Be willing to be a beginner
    every single morning.” 
    Meister Eckhart

    Life is a constant process of starting over. We finish elementary school and begin high school. We graduate from high school and launch the journey into our college years. We earn a bachelor’s degree and either continue on for a master’s degree or enter the workforce. After gaining experience in one particular job, most people transition into something new. We might marry, have kids, retire from our chosen career, and have grandkids. This certainly isn’t the path for everyone, yet it is a fairly common example of a life lived. 

    I will turn 70 in June. Following a lifetime of accepting new challenges, my retirement presented yet another opportunity to do so. I was warned by a number of those who had retired before me to be sure I had something to do in my retirement. I did some writing, then found myself back in the classroom during the pandemic. I did a little more writing, and found myself teaching an adult education creative writing class. Each of these opportunities required me to be a beginner again. 

    A couple of days ago, I had one of those “Ah-ha” moments. As I looked at my calendar for 2024, I realized that I had bitten off more than I could chew. I’ve never been good at saying “No” when asked to do things. I’ve always been a people-pleaser. I like to make a positive difference in people’s lives. I enjoy meeting new friends. I have always been energized by being involved in a number of activities. I embrace the challenge of taking on new and different roles and tasks. Now, however, as I look 70 square in the eye (and I’m not saying I think 70 is old, because I don’t), I have come to the realization that my life needs a significant adjustment.

    The word “reset” is a wonderful term. The verb is defined in this way: “to set, adjust, or fix in a new or different way.” The example provided in the dictionary was “to reset priorities.” 

    As I reflected on commitments I’ve already made in 2024, and in light of my upcoming transition into my seventies, the word “reset” hit the nail on the head. This is precisely what I need to do in my life at this time — to acknowledge that time is precious, that family comes first, and that unnecessary distractions can be eliminated should one choose to do so. I have chosen to do so now.

    My 2024 calendar tonight looks strikingly different than it did just two days ago. I’ve pushed the reset button in my life to allow me to adjust my priorities, to focus on what is truly important in my life at this time. While it was not easy for me to do, I have stepped back from a few activities to which I had previously committed. The most noticeable change in my life, however, is my departure from social media. While I have thoroughly enjoyed the years I’ve spent interacting with family, friends, and acquaintances on Facebook, I am no longer willing to spend the precious hours in my days scrolling through pages of information (or disinformation), much of which is irrelevant to me. Life is simply too short.

    American writer, Carl Bard, offered these words of wisdom, which I have chosen to embrace: “Although no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.”

    This is what I choose to do at this time in my life. Self-care is not selfish.

  • Called to Compassion

    Better than anyone else, I know myself. At this time in my life, I’ve come to a point where I acknowledge and appreciate the gifts I’ve been given — the things I do well and the things I enjoy doing. Through the years, I have also learned that I am not perfect. I am flawed. I make poor choices. I am human. And, yes, from time to time, I can be downright foolish. It is in such times that we desperately need the love and support of others.

    I could probably say, “We’ve all been there,” and, perhaps, I would be right. Honestly, though, I don’t know for certain that this is true. There are people in my life who I look up to with such respect and awe that I cannot imagine them ever making a poor choice, treating someone disrespectfully, or doing anything that would, in any way, jeopardize their integrity. Is it really possible to be that good… all the time?

    In recent years, no small number of celebrities have been knocked off their pedestals. Three popular, well-loved individuals come to mind: Matt Lauer, Bill Cosby, and Lance Armstrong. Each had made a name for himself. Each had excelled in their field. Each had experienced success far greater than anything they had probably ever anticipated. In the end, however, they all experienced a painful fall from grace due to choices they made.

    It’s easy for me, for us, to judge such people as pathetic or disgusting. I know I’m guilty of having felt this way. It’s natural to look with scorn upon those whose reputation has been destroyed by their own behavior. I am reminded of the words of wisdom my mother shared with me on many occasions in my younger days. She said, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” It took a while for me to understand what she meant by these words, but as I got older, the message became quite clear to me.

    Oscar Wilde, the Irish poet and playwright, wrote, “Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future.” Quite a thought-provoking, and hopeful observation.

    I’m also reminded of the words of the humorous social commentator, Will Rogers, who said, “It takes a lifetime to build a good reputation, but you can lose it in a minute.”

    The poem above, by J. Warren Welch, is both an invitation and a challenge. It’s easy to sit back and point the finger of guilt at those whose choices ruin their well-earned reputation. The author encourages us to embrace a far more compassionate response.

  • A Modest Proposal

    “The homily is not meant
    to be an endurance contest
    (or a hostage situation).” 
    Comment on Social Media

    I once heard it said, “You cannot be a passive lamb in the flock of Christ and expect to grow.” There is great truth in this statement. Sadly, it seems that little is expected (“pay, pray, and obey”) of lay Catholics in the United States when it comes to their role in the Sunday celebration of the Eucharist. While some few are actively engaged in the Mass as proclaimers of the Word, Eucharistic ministers, ushers, greeters, or ministers of music, most in attendance appear to be passive observers of the drama unfolding in the sanctuary. 

    I think the time has come for the Catholic Church in our country to actively solicit and encourage feedback from parishioners on the Mass, in general, and more specifically on the quality of homilies.

    It is common practice in education today, including Catholic schools, that teachers undergo a process of regular formal and informal observation and evaluation by school administrators. In many schools, students, too, are given the opportunity to provide feedback to their teachers at the conclusion of the academic year. The primary purpose of these evaluation tools is to promote ongoing professional development. Catholic priests could benefit from a similar process of observation and evaluation. 

    In fact, it would be beneficial for all areas of liturgical ministry to be evaluated systematically. One component of such a process could include the availability of cards placed in the pews prior to each Sunday liturgy. Using these cards, parishioners could provide input on the music, the proclamation of the Scriptures, the liturgical environment and hospitality, and the quality of the homily at Sunday liturgies.

    The instructions on such a card could be quite simple:

    In the space provided, please tell us what you liked and/or what you did not like about today’s liturgy. Please be specific, as your input will help us to provide the best possible liturgical experience for you and your fellow parishioners in the months and years ahead.

    You may include your name and contact information, but this is optional. Please indicate if you would like to be contacted about your experience.

    Response cards could be placed in boxes at the exits of the worship space at the conclusion of the liturgy, or they could be returned by mail to the parish office. Each response card would be read by members of the Pastoral Staff, including the pastor, parochial vicar(s), and the Director of Liturgy, with a summary of the responses received each month shared with members of the Pastoral Council and with those whose ministries are praised or critiqued.

    It’s important and gratifying that clergy and lay leaders know what parishioners appreciate about the ministry they provide. They deserve to hear positive feedback. It’s equally essential that they know when their efforts fall short of meeting the spiritual needs of the community. Only then might they be motivated to seek ways of improving the liturgical experience for all parishioners. 

    For now, we can always communicate our gratitude or concerns by email or in a handwritten note. Observation and evaluation are essential to the overall effectiveness of any endeavor.

  • Life’s Little Surprises

    “Everywhere
    is walking distance
    if you have the time.” 
    Steven Wright

    My home is located in the Santa Clara Valley, in what was once affectionately known as The Valley of Heart’s Delight. The nickname changed following the invention of the microchip. In response to the technology boom of the past fifty years, this once fertile farmland was dubbed Silicon Valley, home to many of the most well-known high-tech companies in the world. 

    Life is fast-paced here. It seems that everyone is constantly on the go. Despite a network of highways and expressways, traffic congestion can still be problematic at any time of day. It’s strikingly different than what I experienced when I first moved to this area in 1972.

    Gratefully, I am retired now. I still teach one class of creative writing for adults in Santa Clara on Tuesday mornings, and I continue to read and write as often as possible. Other than these commitments, however, my schedule is quite flexible. No longer do I have the excuse that I simply don’t have time to exercise. I have plenty of time now.

    This offers me options that were unavailable to me in previous years. I still drive my car fairly often, but I have started to rely increasingly on public transportation and walking. Yesterday I logged more than 11,000 steps! Not surprisingly, I feel much better, both physically and mentally, than I did during my sedentary years.

    Walking slows me down, providing ample opportunity for me to consciously notice what’s happening around me. This should come as no surprise to most people. Some of the world’s greatest thinkers and writers have extolled the virtues of walking.

    Henry David Thoreau wrote, “Me thinks that the moment my legs begin to move, my thoughts begin to flow.” I cannot disagree. When walking, I am constantly recognizing potential topics for my writing.

    German philosopher, Friedrich Nietzsche, claimed, “All truly great thoughts are conceived by walking.” While the health benefits of physical movement are well-documented, we cannot overlook the many other benefits of a consistent routine of walking, which include reduced stress and increased productivity.

    There is a social benefit to leaving one’s car at home, as well. I enjoy walking from my home in West San José to Santana Row, an upscale residential and commercial complex located 2.2 miles from my home. I wrote about this in a recent blog post. Last week, while walking down Winchester Boulevard on my way to Santana Row, I met Manny, a native of the Azores. With broom in hand, he was sweeping leaves away from the gutter to prepare them to be more efficiently picked up by the street sweeper truck when it passed by. I should mention that Manny was not directly outside his home doing this. He lives about 200 yards down the road from where he was doing the sweeping. We had a wonderful conversation, through which I learned that his reason for sweeping the leaves was simply that it was a task that needed to be done.

    Yesterday, after enjoying a hot chocolate and cinnamon roll at Cocola in Santana Row, I met Rubé. She was standing near my table. Recognizing that she was considerably older than me (though she assured me that she was considerably younger than God!), I asked if she would like to sit in one of the unused chairs at my table. She graciously accepted. She was waiting for her daughter, Evita, who came along a few minutes later. The two were born in Honduras, but have been living in the United States for many years. We had a delightful conversation.

    Then, while walking back home, I met a young couple with a 3-month old baby girl at the intersection of Winchester & Moorpark. José is from Mexico. His wife, Alexa, was born in Nicaragua. I mentioned to them that my youngest grandson isn’t even one month old yet. Before we parted ways, I gave them my business card and invited them to contact me so that I could drop off a copy of Cherries in the Summer for their daughter, Aitziber Rose. They did, indeed, contact me and I delivered the book to their home at 6:45 p.m.

    I am tremendously grateful for the opportunity to walk in my neighborhood, to maintain my health, to meet interesting people, to be introduced to various cultures, and to make new friends. People are basically good, but we may never realize this if we stay in our cars and never make the effort to acknowledge and reach out to those around us.

  • 56 Years!

    “Let’s face it.
    Friends make life
    a lot more fun.” 
    Charles R. Swindoll

    There’s something to be said for a group of friends who gather around a table, enjoy a delicious meal together, and share stories and memories from their past. For several years now, a number of my classmates from the Saint Gabriel School Class of 1968 have met informally for food, fun, and fellowship. The first gathering was a lunch at Beach Chalet in The City in November 2013. It was a small group, but the number of attendees has grown slowly, but steadily through the years. We’ve met several times at a sports park in Pleasanton, at a variety of restaurants throughout the Bay Area, once at the home of one of our classmates in The City, and at the Rossmoor Community in Walnut Creek where two of our classmates reside. That event included a memorable bocce ball tournament.

    Despite the inclement weather in The City yesterday, our largest group yet, 21 in all, met for lunch at Capurro’s Restaurant on Fisherman’s Wharf. The restaurant is owned by Paul Capurro, a 1967 graduate of Sacred Heart High School. Sadly, I had never been to Capurro’s prior to yesterday’s lunch. I didn’t know what I was missing. The informal, order-at-the-bar venue was perfect for our group. I asked for a Shrimp Louie salad with garlic bread. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a better salad. It certainly exceeded my expectations. The owner, Paul, greeted us warmly upon our arrival and checked-in on us a few times throughout the event. I will make it a point to return to Capurro’s soon… and often.

    For many years — fifty, to be exact — I made the mistake of judging my classmates based on my less-than-pleasant memories of what I recalled from my excruciating junior high school years. I was convinced that I was one of just a few guys in our class who were treated as social outcasts. Throughout that half-century, it never dawned on me that I was inappropriately characterizing a good number of my classmates based on who they were and what they did back in the mid- to late-‘60s. For this reason, I never attended a class reunion until our 50th. Even then, I approached the event with trepidation. Writing my classmates off was a significant error on my part, one which I now regret, for not having considered that my classmates were no longer 14-years-old.

    Fortunately, a few years prior to the reunion, I reconnected with one of my classmates, Laura McCabe, on social media. She invited and encouraged me to participate in what was called Alumni Hot Dog Day at Saint Gabriel School. At that event, SG alums served hot dog lunches to the current Saint Gabriel students in the school cafeteria. I accepted Laura’s offer and was pleasantly surprised by the experience. In the weeks and months following that event I was able to reconnect with a number of other classmates through the Saint Gabriel Alumni Facebook page. In the fall of 2013, classmate Chris Freiling suggested the lunch gathering at Beach Chalet.

    So what have I learned from all this? Well, for starters, people change. People grow up. Most of my elementary school classmates turned out to be well-adjusted, pleasant, contributing members of society. Secondly, holding onto a grudge or anger for so long is like drinking poison and expecting the other people to die. The only one adversely affected by my self-centered stubbornness was me. Finally, some of the best people in my life today were members of the Saint Gabriel School Class of 1968.

    Oh,… and one more thing I learned: Yes, the sky was dark and it rained a bit in The City yesterday, but a simple lunch engagement with friends can turn even the gloomiest day into a bright one. 

  • A Challenging Task

    “Man is affected not by events,
    but by the view he takes of them.” 
    Epictetus

    It’s a delightful word: equanimity. It means mental calmness, composure, and evenness of temper, especially in difficult situations. Do I possess the gift of equanimity? Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. I thought this might be a good reflection for a Friday afternoon.

    Equanimity is our ability to be content with what’s happening around us — good or bad. Some might consider it an unattainable goal, as it seems that relatively few people possess this gift. Equanimity is not indicative of apathy. That’s something totally different. Rather than taking the stance so popular in today’s jargon that “It is what it is,” equanimity invites us to acknowledge that “For now, it’s like this” — and to be okay with it. There is a difference. One is a passive acknowledgment of the reality of the situation. The other is conscious acceptance of the present reality, with hope and vision for a preferred future. 

    Dr. Anna Schaffner, a writer and executive coach, recently published an article in which she asks two challenging questions:

    1. How can we find
    a calm harbor within ourselves
    amid life’s storms?

    2. How can we develop our ability
    to remain composed and centered
    when faced with challenges?

    Schaffner claims that both can be accomplished with the practice of equanimity. She writes that “equanimity is characterized by the ability to remain calm, composed, open, and non-reactive in the face of challenging or distressing situations.” So I ask myself yet again, do I possess the gift of equanimity? My answer has not changed. Sometimes yes. Sometimes no. 

    There have been several times in my life when I have pleasantly surprised myself by my calm, almost clinical response to an unforeseen crisis or emergency. Sadly, there have also been times when my reaction to an unexpected challenge was inappropriate and disproportionate. As I reflect on these experiences, I realize how good I feel about the times I handled challenging situations with professionalism, confidence, and composure. Conversely, I am ashamed of my response to other provocations. Dr. Schaffner points out that “when we are in a state of equanimity, we can respond to life’s ups and downs with more clarity and wisdom.”

    It is incumbent upon each of us to do what we can to make ourselves as resilient as possible to the effects of the words, actions, and situations around us. Equanimity is the key. 

    “Every moment of equanimity
    is a moment of waking up
    from the delusion that
    things should be
    as we want them to be.” 
    Toni Bernhard

  • A Simple Smile

    “Count your age
    by friends, not years.
    Count you life
    by smiles, not tears.” 
    John Lennon

    I’m not exactly sure why, but I was feeling a little melancholy today. Kathy was home all day nursing a headache and cough. I’ve been contemplating a few opportunities which have arisen in my life that, for some reason, have created a bit of anxiety for me. Since no rain was predicted for today, I thought it would be a perfect time for me to take a longer-than-usual walk. 

    My normal walking route is actually quite boring. I walk from home to our local post office and back. It’s 2.6 miles round trip. Sometimes I have a letter to mail, but most often I just walk past the post office and loop back home when I reach Saratoga Avenue. Today I walked to Santana Row, which is located 2.2 miles from my home.

    I popped in my ear pods and logged-in to my Pandora account. As I walked, I listened to “Laid Back Beach Music Radio.” The station offers an array of upbeat tunes from reggae to country. The songs are perfect for an afternoon walk, and many of them bring back pleasant memories of my time in the islands.

    Several times during today’s walk, something caught my attention. There’s this thing I do. When I walk past someone who is walking in the opposite direction, I make a point to look them in the eye. If they look at me, I smile. That’s it. It’s really quite simple. I’ve been doing this for many years. By far, the majority of those I passed today smiled back. That’s not always the case.

    When I arrived at Santana Row, I wandered down to Cocola, a small café which has an impressive selection of delicious, though overpriced, cookies and pastries. I got one small mango-filled cream cookie. Ka-ching: $2.65… and 250 calories. It was delicious! I also got a cup of their incredible hot chocolate, which puts Starbucks’ hot chocolate to shame. The price of the chocolate was actually quite reasonable, but the calorie count made up for it. I enjoyed the snack immensely.

    When I walked into Cocola, a customer, who was sitting at a table in the corner working on her computer, smiled at me. This caught me a bit off-guard, as I had not initiated the smile. Of course, I smiled back. When I got up to leave the café about a half-hour later, a different customer, who had been sitting at the table behind me, also shot me an unsolicited smile. Again, I gratefully returned the smile. This same scenario played out a few more times before I departed Santana Row for the walk home. I must admit, these smiles surprised me. I didn’t get a sense that any of them were flirtatious in any way. They were simply genuine acts of kindness… and humanity.

    A simple smile, though it costs nothing to give, has the potential to change a person’s day in a positive way. As I made my way back home, I couldn’t help but be appreciative of the smiles I’d received from individuals this afternoon, regardless of who initiated them. The melancholy feeling I had at the start of my afternoon walk had diminished completely, replaced with a tremendous sense of gratitude.

  • Henry’s Home!

    “How wonderful life is,
    now that you’re in the world.” 
    Elton John

    Two years and four days after the birth of our first child, Tom, my wife, Kathy, gave birth to our second son, Steve. Throughout the pregnancy, I had wondered if it would be possible to love another child as much as I loved Tom. It didn’t take long for that question to be answered. Of course I did! When Brendan was born four years later, I didn’t have that same concern. I knew the answer. To explain this to people who ask, I use the popular quote attributed to James Keller: 

    “A candle loses nothing
    by lighting another candle.”

    The human capacity for love is unlimited. I’m seeing this played out yet again with my grandkids. Henry was born on Sunday morning. He’s our fifth grandchild. I can honestly say that I love all five equally. Each is their own person. Each has their own unique personality. And each will develop and grow in their own way to become productive, contributing members of society in accordance with their individual calling.

    It has been a joy to watch Henry’s sisters, Penny and Scarlett, interacting with him these past few days. Both have amazed me in their ability to display unconditional love for their little brother. Both have found ways to gently and appropriately express their affection for him. And both seem to have grown up just a little more since his arrival. The care and compassion they show each day for their new sibling has been impressive. 

    Penny will turn four in June, yet even at this point in her life, she seems to understand the opportunity she has as to help her parents with the task of caring for Henry. Scarlett, too, though only two years old, has shown that she is aware of her responsibility to care for her little brother with patience, kindness, and gentleness. I’m not sure why I am so amazed by all this, but I am. It’s a wonderful feeling to know that Henry is so loved and well cared for by his sisters.

    I’m looking forward to Henry meeting his cousins, Liam and Emily. As a nine-year-old, Liam most certainly understands the importance of interacting appropriately with his only male cousin. I know, for sure, that Emily, who will turn seven in March, will shower Henry will love and attention. Having seen the way she interacts with Penny and Scarlett gives me confidence that she, too, will care for her new cousin with love and patience.

    Charles Dickens once said, “I love these little people; and it is not a slight thing when they, who are so fresh from God, love us.”

    It’s also not a slight thing when these little ones love each other.

  • We Need Each Other

    Thomas: “I can’t win.”
    Tavita: “Then lose.
    But don’t lose alone,
    lose with us.”
    From the movie Next Goal Wins

    For the past few years, I have enjoyed reading a newsletter written and published by former UCLA and NBA great Kareem Abdul Jabbar. A disciple of the legendary coach John Wooden, Kareem is so much more than just a retired athlete. His intelligence, insightfulness, and courage to speak out on some of the pressing (or not so pressing) issues of our day continues to inspire me. Today’s A Beacon of Light blog post is one article from Kareem’s newsletter which arrived in my inbox this morning. It’s powerful. It is clear to me that Kareem learned much more from Coach Wooden than simply how to play basketball. He is truly a beacon of light.

    •    •    •

    The context for this quote from Taika Waititi’s recent soccer movie Next Goal Wins is that an American coach is being punished for his on-field outbursts by being assigned to coach a team from American Samoa that not only has never won a game but never scored a single goal. The hard-drinking loner lost in grief for his dead daughter is soon welcomed into the local community where their warmth and love heals him. At one point, the coach tells the local man who has helped him understand the Samoan way of life that he can’t win the game. The man’s response: “Then lose. But don’t lose alone, lose with us.”

    I’ve been a member of a team since I was a little kid. Well, I was never little so let’s just say since I was in middle school. Whenever the outside world seemed too harsh and unpitying, the comfort of the team made me feel safe and necessary. The thrill of scoring points was matched by the thrill of feeding the ball to someone else who scored. So, when Tavita says, “Then lose. But don’t lose alone, lose with us.” it makes me fondly remember how sharing in victory heightened the sensation while sharing in defeat blunted the pain.

    Losing is inevitable. We can’t control that aspect of life. But we can control our preparation for it. We are all grieving from loss—whether the loss of people we love or hopes we had about our lives. We are all loners looking for shelter from the storm. Community is that shelter, which is why people belong to religions, book clubs, and pickleball groups. We seek the company of those with similar interests who might better understand us and therefore care about us.

    In the Middle Ages, grand cathedrals were constructed throughout Europe and filled with the most ornate fixtures and divine art. Part of the reason for such opulence was to present a representation of heaven on Earth so the believers would be inspired to continue their faith. Basically, they were like lush model homes in a planned community that hadn’t been built. You’re buying the promise, the dream.

    We build those same model heavens in our movies about small towns from Mayberry to Northern Exposure to Gilmore Girls to every Hallmark Christmas movie. If heaven were to exist, its main feature would be unconditional love for each other without any hurtful human conflicts.

    That’s what makes today’s quote so poignant to me. Winning/success is a way of proving our worth to others, and that we deserve to be part of the community. On Survivor, people are always trying to demonstrate how invaluable they are at catching fish or making fires so the tribe won’t vote them off. That rarely works. In the end, people often choose based on how much they want to be in that person’s company.

    That’s the essence of the quote: We don’t have to prove our worth by winning—whether it’s a game or money. We want you in our community because of who you are, not what you do. We’re all going to lose, but losing with a loving, compassionate group feels a whole lot like winning.

  • Finding “The One”

    “Through all of youth,
    I was looking for you
    without knowing
    what I was looking for.” 
    Benjamin Alire Sáenz 

    I recall the night vividly. It was well after midnight. I was walking down The Alameda from Santa Clara University, where I had been visiting with friends in one of the dormitories, to the campus of Bellarmine College Prep, where I lived and worked at that time. It was January 1974. I don’t know why I was thinking about this at that particular time in my life, but the thought crossed my mind. Presuming that I would marry some day, and considering that I was 19-years-old at the time, it seemed highly likely that my to-be wife, should I marry at some point, was alive and living on this earth already. I wondered who she was. I wondered where she was living at that moment. I wondered if I already knew her. I wondered where and how and when we would meet if that had not yet happened. These and a number of other questions swirled around in my head as I made my way back to the Bellarmine dormitory that cold winter night. That was fifty years ago.

    It took another ten years before I finally met Kathy. We had the pleasure of meeting at a social function at Saint Lawrence Parish in Santa Clara in early August 1984. It was one of those surreal experiences — when we met, we just knew. There was a mutual respect and admiration well beyond the physical attraction. We married in June 1985, became parents in May 1986, purchased our home in October 1986, had another child in May 1988, and one more in March 1992. Our three sons are now 37, 35, and 31. We have four grandchildren, with one more expected any day now. Kathy and I are both retired, though Kathy regularly takes care of the little ones while their parents are at work, and I teach two writing classes for adults on Tuesdays. With each passing day, our life together continues to unfold.

    From time to time, I’m still asked questions such as, “Where do you see yourself five, or ten, or twenty years from now?” It’s a nice icebreaker question, and, to some degree, the answer is quite simple: I don’t know. I expect that we will continue living here in our home in San José, California. That could change, but I don’t expect that it will. What I do know, with absolute certainty, is that wherever I am, I want to be with Kathy.

    We’ve been a good team for the past 38 years. Like any relationship, we’ve encountered a few bumps in the road along our journey, but the older we get, the smoother the road seems to be. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that our lives are on cruise control, as that could be incredibly dangerous, but the ride has gotten progressively more comfortable. Rather than life passing us by in a blur, as it did for so many years, we now have the opportunity to slow down, mindfully look around, and savor the scenery along the way. I am thoroughly enjoying this leg of our journey together. 

    I expect that there may still be some bumps in the road, and perhaps even a few detours, in the coming years. We’ll deal with those if and when they arise. For now, I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the gift Kathy has been in my life. I can easily relate the famous Lou Gehrig quote from his speech at Yankee Stadium on the 4th of July in 1939: “Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth.”