Tom Keefe

Spirited Communication

Category: family (Page 1 of 2)

My Favorite Christmas Gift

December 1, 2022 /

The radio host today asked listeners to share their favorite Christmas gift. I didn’t call in but I knew what I would say.

When I was in my late teens, my sister, Annette, sewed each of her brothers and our parents the same gift: A cloth ornament shaped like a candy cane. At the time, I didn’t think much of the ornament, except to acknowledge the time and effort Annette put into cutting the fabric, adding a soft filling and sewing each closed. When I left for college, I packed the ornament with other personal items that I couldn’t take with me and forgot about it.

A few years later, Annette, who was two years older than me, got married and they had a son. When we gathered at our parents’ home to celebrate Christmas, I saw that my mom had included her cloth candy cane ornament on the Christmas tree. That reminded me about my ornament, which was still packed away because I didn’t decorate a Christmas tree at my apartment.

One day my sister called me. Her voice breaking, Annette told me that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 24. It was a shock, of course, and I moved back into with my parents to be able to help as Annette fought the cancer with chemotherapy and radiation. After 1-1/2 to 2 years, the cancer spread to my sister’s lungs and brain, causing her death that June.

In December, although we still mourned the loss of Annette, my parents and I put up the Christmas tree. When mom added the candy cane ornament, I ran to where I had stored mine. I placed it on the tree and wished that I could tell Annette how much her thoughtfulness meant to me.

This week, 40 years after my sister’s death, my wife and I put up our Christmas tree. Kim knows I have a tradition now, so she patiently waited until I found the ornament that would be placed first on our tree: a weathered fabric candy cane ornament. Over the years, I’ve opened many presents that were placed under our tree. But my favorite gift has always hung above the gaily wrapped presents below. A simple present made with love by the sister who will always remain in my heart.

Candy Cane fabric ornament made by Annette Keefe

What is the Big Deal About a Prank? (Part 4)

February 10, 2021 /

Why do I dislike pranks? I’m sure that as the fifth of six children in my family, I endured plenty of common pranks growing up.

The only one I remember is when my sister wrapped up coal and gave it to me as a Christmas present.

Yeah, I cried.

But no prank made me cry like that until one pulled on me in third grade. That one hurt.

I had been called up to the blackboard to solve a problem, and was feeling good that the teacher praised me for answering correctly.

I quickly sat but suddenly felt a sharp pinch where my butt met the seat.

I jumped up and twisted to see what caused the pain. A thumbtack hung from my pants. I probably was more confused and surprised than hurt from the thumbtack. What hurt worse was the immediate loud laughter of the boy behind me who planted the thumbtack, joined immediately by a chorus of laughter from what seemed to be every other kid in the classroom.

I felt my cheeks flush and I walked quickly from the classroom as the laughter continued. Somehow I held it together long enough to exit the class, but the tears flooded out before the classroom door shut behind me. I cried loudly as I walked down the hallway, not having a destination, just needing to put distance between me and that situation.

The teacher found me shortly afterward and comforted me. She convinced me to come back into the classroom and made the offender apologize in front of the class. I remember his half-serious, half-smirking face. It seemed like he was only sorry about being disciplined, not for hurting me.

That’s what I see a lot in people who pull pranks. They like the feeling of control, of making themselves feel better about themselves by dragging someone else down. They try to cover up any guilt or consequences by saying things like:

– “Come on, I was only kidding.”

– “Can’t you take a joke?”

– “What a baby!”

– “That didn’t hurt!”

– “You’d better not tell!”

I’ve developed a zero tolerance policy about pranks. I react strongly when someone tries to pull one on me, and make it as unpleasant for them as I can. That makes the “prankster” and anyone watching uncomfortable—which is exactly what I want.

What is the “big deal” about a prank? I hope this series of posts helps you to better understand.

What is the Big Deal About a Prank? (Part 2)

January 30, 2021 /

When ‘Innocent Fun’ Is Neither Innocent, Nor Fun, To Others

In my previous post, I provided background on a prank, pulled on me, that has caused friction within my family.

In my previous post, I provided background on a prank, pulled on me, that has caused friction within my family.

Here is the beginning of the explanation for my reaction to the prank, and what pranksters in general represent to me.

When someone reacts unexpectedly to something that is said or done to them, it could be that the words or actions triggered something. The “fake bleeding” prank that my daughter and wife played on me, triggered several emotions and memories.

A few days prior to the prank, the three of us were reminiscing about a birthday sleepover involving my daughter and some of her friends when they were younger. The girls decided that the first one of them to fall asleep would be pranked by the others. When one girl eventually did fall asleep, Caitlyn moved toward her with a marker, intending to draw on the sleeping girl’s face.

Caitlyn tripped and her face struck an edge of our ping-pong table, near one of her eyes. As blood started to spurt out, Caitlyn and the other girls starting screaming for help.

Imagine being awakened in the middle of the night to the screams of little girls afraid that their friend was going to lose an eye, or worse. My adrenaline kicked in, until it became clear that the wound wasn’t serious enough for stitches. The rest of the sleepover didn’t involve much sleep for me.

My love of my daughter added to the stress of that moment. I wanted to protect her and help her to move past her fear.

The other day, when my wife said Caitlyn had fallen while walking her dog, and I saw what seemed to be a large degree of bleeding from Caitlyn’s face, that same desire to protect Caitlyn kicked in.

When I learned that it was a prank, my adrenaline was still pumping from racing up the basement stairs and taking action to assess and deal with the situation.

It was neither funny, nor fun, for me at that moment.

In my next post, I’ll provide some context for my intense dislike of pranks, drawing from my own experiences.

What is the Big Deal About a Prank? (Part 1)

January 29, 2021 /

Why Someone’s ‘Little Joke’ Sometimes Is A Very Serious Matter

An ugly confrontation earlier this week led to strained family relationships and my decision to sleep on the basement sectional the past two nights.

The cause? A prank.

Since March, I’ve been working at home in a contract role for a large employer. The manager to whom I report absolutely requires me to stop each week when I reach 40 hours.

Some additional work responsibilities in recent weeks have stressed me more than usual. I’ve worked long days with occasional short lunch and dinner breaks. Even though I only worked four days because of the Martin Luther King Jr. holiday, I still reached the 40-hour mark.

The following week, which ended today, was even more stressful for various reasons. I was working at a desk in my basement on Wednesday, concentrating on some detailed work, when my wife called down.

“Tom, can you come up? Caitlyn fell on the ice while walking Mickey.”

I hurried up the stairs and saw my wife standing in the powder room doorway. I could hear my daughter running water. When I looked into the powder room, Caitlyn was leaning over the sink. I saw her reflection in the mirror and saw a large amount of blood above her eyebrow and on a towel in her hand.

I asked Caitlyn if she had lost consciousness, and she smirked when she said she hadn’t. I then asked Kim to hand me another towel that I could use to wipe the blood from Caitlyn’s forehead.

My wife asked if we should take her to the hospital, and Caitlyn said no. Then she started to laugh…because she was faking the whole incident.

When I looked at the two of them laughing loudly, I got angry. I swore at them and went back to the basement.

I wish I could say that I fumed for a few minutes and then laughed it off. Or called a trusted friend to vent.

But I was so upset that I instead went back upstairs with the intent of calling them on their poor decision to prank me during the work day when they knew how stressed I have been.

The angry exchanges lasted several minutes. The fallout is still being felt. I slept in the basement over the past two nights because I was too angry at my wife to sleep next to her. I haven’t said more than a few sentences to my daughter for two days.

What made this such a big deal? I’ll explain in my next post.

‘How to Get Along with Black People’

January 20, 2020 /

While cleaning out file cabinets in the basement of my parents’ house, I found a book and letters that tell a story fitting for the Martin Luther King holiday.

The title of the book is, “How to Get Along With Black People,” with the subtitle, “A Handbook for White Folks* *And Some Black Folks Too!” written by Chris Clark and Sheila Rush. The book was published in 1971 and featured a forward by Bill Cosby—who at that time was a popular comedian.

How to Get Along With Black People Book Cover

I learned from reading handwritten correspondence tucked inside the book, that a relative had given the book to my dad after dad had expressed the desire to move past ingrained racial prejudice. To be clear: My dad wasn’t a white supremacist or someone who regularly railed against black people.

He was a product of his time and place: A male from a white lower-middle-class family. Segregation was being legally beaten down by the time my dad and mom had their sixth and final child, my younger brother, in 1961. But the Civil Rights Movement of the late 1950s through the 1960s surfaced fear and distrust in many communities across the nation—including West Rogers Park where my parents lived from 1966 to just a few short years ago.

My family used to enjoy African-American entertainers like Cosby and Sammy Davis Jr., but we didn’t have African-American friends or neighbors while I was growing up. It was like we could relax and enjoy their talent from a distance but wouldn’t make the effort to meet someone of color in real life.

Something happened to my dad at some point in his life that prompted him to reach out to a relative. The correspondence I found in the “How to Get Along” book didn’t include the original letter my dad had written, so I don’t know what happened. But the relative’s reply gave a hint. The relative expressed support for my dad’s desire to move past his fear of African-Americans. Dad evidently wanted to defeat some inner block that prevented him from being himself when interacting with someone who happened to be of color.

Our relative gave dad the “How to Get Along” book as a tool for dad to read as a beginning step toward reaching the point that King Jr. so eloquently described as

“I have a dream that my four children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.”  — Martin Luther King, Jr. / “I Have A Dream” speech, August 28, 1963

And what about me, one of my father’s offspring?

In the private, Catholic high school I attended in downtown Chicago from 1972-76, about 10 percent of my class were of color. We talked inside and outside of class, and while participating in intramural and extracurricular sports. But I didn’t consider anyone of color to be a friend then. I continued to hang out with white classmates.

In college, I met people of color who became true friends and colleagues in journalism. I was more mature and could interact with them as the normal people that they were. To me, it was how the world was supposed to be.

Decades later, I look back at the legacy of leaders like Martin Luther King, Jr. and see a world that is still divided, but that is better than the one my dad grew up in.

One small victory: I never had to hand my son and daughter a book explaining to them how to get along with their friends of color.

Cover liner notes (c) 1971 by The Third Press—Joseph Okpaku Publishing Co., Inc.
All rights reserved.

Another Take on Parental Expectations

June 18, 2017 /

While participating in the creation of videos as a corporate communications professional, I learned how to write and deliver polished lead-ins. It was one of many skills that I wanted to help my children to develop, and I looked for opportunities to share my knowledge “for their good.”

When an opportunity presented itself during a family vacation to San Diego, I learned a valuable lesson regarding the potential pitfalls of parental expectations. It’s a fitting topic to share on Father’s Day—and is even more poignant for me because my wife and daughter were the ones who recently shared their perspective of the experience with me.

During that week-long trip, my 12-year-old son, Kevin, and 10-year-old daughter, Caitlyn, showed a great deal of interest in using the family’s new Sony Handycam digital video camera to record portions of the vacation from their perspectives. Other than when I cautioned them not to dangle the video camera outside of whatever vehicle we were sitting in while they shot video segments, I thought I gave them great freedom to enjoy the experience of videotaping our vacation moments.

That was until I reviewed their first recordings. Their rapid camera movement during shots of the San Diego Zoo made me more nauseous than any live carnival ride I had ever taken. Their stopping and starting recordings of people mid-sentence and thought caused flashbacks of my past drunken revelry and long-forgotten, very forgettable and regrettable, barroom conversations.

“They can do better than this,” I thought. “All it will take is a little coaching.”

Then I had an amazing idea. Why not turn this haphazard video recording into a family vacation video project? That would bring much-needed focus to our recording efforts—and give me the chance to showcase my talent as a communication coach and video “expert.” Oh yeah, and the kids will love it!

Surprisingly, Kim and the kids were much less excited about the family video project than I expected. Well, all I needed to do was to get one of the kids involved, and the rest of the dominoes would fall quickly into place, right?

My immediate choice was to work with Caitlyn on what would be the video intro. Caitlyn was a natural who enjoyed being videotaped and had a good, natural presence on camera. She was her communication daddy’s little girl!

Well, she was no “one-take wonder,” and I was a less-than-encouraging coach. She started pretty well on her first take: “Welcome to SeaWorld. I’m going to take you…I’m going to take you on a tour today.”

‘OK, a slight flub,” I thought. “We could take it out in post-production, but why not have her get it right now?” I kept the camera recording as I said, “Ok start again and say, ‘Hi I’m Caitlyn Keefe’ and then say what you said just now. Look right at the camera.”

Appearing slightly annoyed, but still game, Caitlyn started Take Two: “Hi, I’m Caitlyn Keefe and we’re at SeaWorld, and I’m going to be your tourist.” “CUT!” I nearly yelled, but instead said, “Tour guide, Caitlyn. Two words.”

My voice tried to hide my frustration, as I said, “Do it again now, real good, all together now. Look at the camera while you’re doing it. With a smile!”“Hi, I’m Caitlyn Keefe and I’m going to be your tour guide, and we are in California, San Diego, and I’m going to show you around SeaWorld.” I panned away to show the entrance, then back to Caitlyn. I fed her the next line: “So let’s get started.”
“So, let’s get started,” Caitlyn said with a smile while she spread her arms wide at her side. It either was a pose of excitement or resignation—I still can’t be sure.

Caitlyn, Kim and I recently watched this video. Caitlyn’s comment afterward: “Well, now I guess we know why I never became an actress—I thought I wasn’t good enough!” Although she was half-joking, Caitlyn and her mom have continued to bring up the “coaching session”; so I know it did bother them.

That is the lesson that I want to share on this Father’s Day. We have such a short window of time to be the primary teachers of our children. Our ability to help guide them and support them quickly becomes contingent on our relationship with them.

The Christian bible states, “Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them.” It is wise advice that can keep the all-important parent-child relationship open. We cannot communicate to loved ones if they close their ears to us.

In recent years, I’ve made efforts to hold my tongue so that one of my children can share something with me. When I do that well, I gain important insights into their world, their struggles, and their concerns.

That hasn’t always been easy for me and my controlling personality. On this Father’s Day, I’m glad that I can call “Cut!” on myself and give myself another take in the action adventure that I call, life.

Loving Memories of my Dad, Ed Keefe on Father’s Day

June 18, 2016 /

Happy Father’s Day to anyone reading this who has had the privilege, joy and challenges of being a father.

The day is bringing out more emotion than usual from me, because this is the first Father’s Day since my dad, Ed Keefe, died.

This is my dad, Ed, and my mom, Donamarie, early in their relationship.

This is my dad, Ed, and my mom, Donamarie, early in their relationship.

I’ve heard it said that we have to go through so much training to drive a car, but someone can become a father without any training or preparation.

I’ll agree that someone can become a biological father without any training, but no one truly succeeds at parenting without a lot of effort, education and personal growth.

Any successes that I’ve had as the father of my son, Kevin, and my daughter, Caitlyn, stem from lessons that I learned from my dad. Just as most of us learn more from our mistakes than our successes, I’ve learned more about parenting by examining what my dad did, and deciding whether I would model his approaches, or choose a different way. I can think of many times when I did or said something the way that I thought dad would have—and quite a few times when I said or did something the opposite of how I had experienced dad’s approach when I was growing up.

I’m the fifth of six children, all but my oldest brother being born at Swedish Covenant Hospital in Chicago. My brother Bob was born at Great Lakes Naval Base because my dad was serving in the Army at that time. We had many struggles, including years of meager living in Peoria, where my dad was in sales. Decades later, one of the most difficult times for my family came when my sister was diagnosed with cancer.

Mom and Dad pose with their six children, back row from left: Bob, Scott, Mike and Steve. Front row: me and Annette, who died of cancer at the age of 26.

Mom and Dad pose with their six children, back row from left: Bob, Scott, Mike and Steve. Front row: me and Annette.


Annette, a young mother, endured an 18-month battle before she died, leaving behind a young son, her husband, and her parents and brothers. Nothing could prepare us for that battle, but I learned many valuable lessons from dad and mom about commitment, compassion, and how to release a child into the care of a loving God.

I always felt that my dad was an awkward father, not being a good communicator and somewhat of an authoritarian. But that was the general parenting style of his generation. But he was a dynamite grandfather, taking time to attend the many events that his grandchildren were into. Dad loved to laugh and amuse the kids, and they all responded to him with joy.

A little more than one year ago, Dad found out that he had cancer, and soon realized that some of it was inoperable. In late summer 2015, dad went into hospice at home, and passed into glory on Nov. 17, 2015.

My brother Steve and I plan to take mom to the cemetery on Father’s Day, to honor dad’s memory. Wherever you are, if you are able to tell someone that they are doing great as a father, do it! It’s never easy, but always deeply appreciated.

A recent family photo. Back row: Bob's spouse, Allen; Bob; Dad; Mike's son, Marcos; Scott floating above the crowd (this is a family joke), Mike. Front row: My son, Kevin, me floating above the crowd; my wife, Kim; my daughter, Caitlyn; and Mike's wife, Alejandra.

A recent family photo. Back row: Bob’s spouse, Allen; Bob; Dad; Mike’s son, Marcos; Scott floating above the crowd (this is a family joke), Mike. Front row: My son, Kevin, me floating above the crowd; my wife, Kim; my daughter, Caitlyn; and Mike’s wife, Alejandra.

Making Comic Books More Inclusive

May 7, 2016 /

FreeComicBDay16%2015yrs_logoToday is “Free Comic Book Day” in North America, but how meaningful are comics in today’s world?

The industry remains healthy, with 2015 sales in North America of $579 million (up 7.17% year-over-year), according to Diamond Comic Distributors. Demographics of comic book readers is difficult to find. I came across this “back of the envelope” estimate of how many Millenials regularly read comic books. (Hint: not many)

So who is buying the comic books that launched media powerhouses like The Walking Dead cable show and The Avengers movies?

We do see attempts to draw a more diverse customer, as more women identify as comic book fans.

Comic book writers, artists and publishers also are adding characters that they hope will appeal to a wide range of ethnic and other demographics.

Although the following National Public Radio (NPR) report is a year old, it discusses that trend.

The Free Comic Book Day site provides a link to more information about comic books.

Here are a couple of well-known actors hawking Free Comic Book Day and their individual projects:
 

Free Comic Book Day Is An Annual Treat

May 3, 2015 /

FreeComicBookDay_Dad-Daughter_IMG_2631I’ll admit that I was a comic book junkie when I was growing up. At one time, I had a collection of more than 300 comic books that I tried to preserve by keeping them flat in a large trunk in my parents’ basement.

It was a sad day when I came home one time from college to learn that my mom wanted to store some blankets in that trunk, and finding my comic book collection, gave some to my brothers, curled some in a brown paper grocery bag, and threw some away.

I still have those few gems, and at least once a year, I take time to remember those fun hours in quiet comic book la-la land when I visit my local comic book store on “Free Comic Book Day.”

FreeComicDay_JaySigns_IMG_2640That’s right: Free Comic Book Day actually exists, as the photos on this page confirm. It always occurs on the first Saturday in May, so yesterday I visited Jay’s Comics in Grayslake, IL. It isn’t anything close to a carnival atmosphere, but employees do dress in superhero costumes and the place is decorated with balloons and event signage.

Still, the comic books take center stage, and this is a terrific opportunity to introduce kids to the comic book world—if they haven’t already been hooked! This event doesn’t seem to get the promotion around my area that I would expect. Don’t marketing and public relations professionals remember the lure and pleasure of comic books?

FreeComicBookDay_ManOutsideJays_IMG_2635A “Captain Action” issue on the free comic book rack caught my eye—as did the current issues of “The Walking Dead.” I still have the first two issues of the original Captain Action comic from the 1960s. It was a favorite character of mine at the time. As for the Walking Dead…no explanation needed, right?

Do you have a favorite memory of any comic book that you want to share here?

Easter cross at Joy! Lutheran Church

Blog Closed Today Due to an Empty Tomb

April 5, 2015 /

Easter cross display at Joy MG_2503

A nun prays during the service at the Our Lady of Consolation Church, which was attacked with grenades by militants almost three years ago, in Garissa, Kenya Sunday, April 5, 2015. Easter Sunday's ceremony was laden with emotion for the several hundred members of Garissa's Christian minority, which is fearful following the recent attack on Garissa University College by al-Shabab, a Somalia-based Islamic extremist group, who singled out Christians for killing, though al-Shabab has a long record of killing Muslims over the years. (AP Photo/Ben Curtis)

A nun prays during the service at the Our Lady of Consolation Church, which was attacked with grenades by militants almost three years ago, in Garissa, Kenya Sunday, April 5, 2015. Easter Sunday’s ceremony was laden with emotion for the several hundred members of Garissa’s Christian minority, which is fearful following the recent attack on Garissa University College by al-Shabab, a Somalia-based Islamic extremist group, who singled out Christians for killing, though al-Shabab has a long record of killing Muslims over the years. (AP Photo/Ben Curtis)

We’re celebrating Easter (Resurrection) Sunday today, and no message that I could write would be as important as the message that came about 2,000 years ago from an empty tomb.

That message can bring hope, even in times of terrible suffering and injustice, such as the massacre on Friday in Kenya.

I hope that you today are safe and enjoying the company of friends, family or caring strangers!
 

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