70 Years of
Friendship

Tom, to me, is the definition of friend and friendship.

Most people make a lot of good acquaintances through their journey called life, and some become friends. Tom has not only made a lot of friends over the years — he has kept them. He works at it.

I’ve known Tom for over 55 years and am still amazed at the job he does keeping those friendships strong. We met at BC High in September 1970.

Not only is Tom your friend, but all his friends become your friends. And they are for life.

Tom, best of luck with this new chapter with Jane and the family. You deserve it.

Your friend for life,Joe

As a matter of fact, all my memories with Tom make me laugh. For over 50 years we’ve known each other, and every encounter has been an opportunity for a joke between the two of us.

And I’m pretty sure it won’t stop anytime soon.

After about a 45-year hiatus, I received a letter from Tom — by snail mail. I was so touched by the effort that I broke a self-imposed exile after essentially disappearing for a time.

In high school, he was uniquely hands-on, curious, intelligent, moral, and loyal. As we used to say, “a man of the trestle.”

I am happy to report he still stubbornly puts forth all those wonderful qualities. I will forever be grateful for his reaching out, which opened doors for me.

Happy retirement and 70th birthday.

I’ve had the pleasure, with Conkey, Hockett, and Elizabeth; of cycling around the world with Tom.

In Spain, the guides encouraged Tom to increase his cadence — his RPMs — going up inclines. Tom responded that he was saving the easier gears “just in case.” We always chant the refrain “Alta cadenza” when Tom approaches a climb.

He was the only one to go both up and down the highest pass in Norway.

To my friend Don Tomas —

Wishing you many more blue skies and smooth rides.

Con profondo rispetto,Don Davide

I would have loved to be there with all of you to celebrate the retirement of my friend Tom.

During a trip with our team, ASPTT Nantes Rugby, Tom and I wanted to symbolize our friendship — but we didn’t have a pennant. So we exchanged our underwear. It was a great moment of friendship, and I still have Tom’s boxers to this day.

Warm regards to the whole family.

In Kenslea terms, it’s been more than “50 trips around the sun” for me with Tom K. I knew him before he married my sister. You wouldn’t always know it, though, as each of us has been focused on our own families and doing our own thing over the decades.

Still, as his brother-in-law, I’ve seen enough to appreciate Tom as a person, husband, father, and grandfather. I know him to be a caring and generous man, and, along with his wife Jane, a master host of countless gatherings at George Street, Oakleigh Road, and beyond. He strikes me as something of a renaissance man, with wide-ranging interests. He also seems to have truly lived the BC High and Jesuit ethos of being a “man for others.” I’m aware of many of his gracious gestures toward those “others.” He and Jane have made a great team in that regard.

Which is not to say Tom is without faults. I’ve always had the same reaction to his humor, especially his one-liners, as his kids have — cue the eye roll. His timing can be a bit questionable as well. He helped hire a boyfriend of my daughter just weeks or months before the guy dumped her. Tessa thanks you, Tom. And I’ve learned not to watch movies with Tom and the family. He has a tendency to talk throughout or call out what’s about to happen next.

Those “faults” are easy to overlook for a guy who has lived a full life with a wonderful wife, kids, and grandkids, completed a long and successful career, and reached 70 in good health.

Congrats and best to you, Tom.

Jay

Much of what I could share would need to be heavily redacted.

However, once, long ago, Grampa Dan and Gramma Clare were still holding court on Comm Ave. Tom and I, along with our then girlfriends, were invited to dinner. We, of course, had other plans.

The idea was simple. A quick fishing trip in Tom’s aluminum canoe on the Sudbury River, then back to 861 by 6 PM, in time to meet Barb and Jane.

It did not go exactly as planned.

It was a rainy day on the river. We had a few beers, and possibly some herbal coping mechanisms. As the rain picked up and the afternoon wore on, the fish started biting. We caught a few. Then a few more. The action was steady enough that we may have lost track of time.

By the gloaming, Tom hooked the biggest one of the day. Or evening, at that point. A large pike. A real toothy monster. He fought it well.

They both did, fish and man.

Alas, as Tom brought the beast alongside the canoe, his companion mishandled the net. It could happen to anyone. The freshwater leviathan slipped free and disappeared back into the inky depths.

Discouraged, our heroes finally checked the time.

Paddling furiously to shore, they raced back to the ancestral home, arriving to join their future spouses and future in-laws at the appointed hour.

Of 7:30 PM.

All four at the homestead had already been enjoying each other’s company and hospitality. The latecomers, newly christened “The Pike Brothers,” were forgiven.

Eventually.

The canoe is another story.

Happy retirement! St. Pat’s some years ago, worlds collide. Tom runs into a client at the party, who was my brother Mark’s ex-girlfriend from 50 years ago and ended up marrying his best friend. All good, that’s how long I’ve known them.

Big T immediately gets in the happy salesman host mode and starts introducing her to all of us!

Love you and you know we wish you the best. :-)

Tom is a very special human being and those who have had the privilege to know him well are truly blessed. There are few people with Tom’s good nature, great intellect, and compassion for others.

Freshman year in high school, Tom was placed in the “advanced class.” This was the class with the kids who had perfect or near-perfect test scores to get into B.C. High. But Tom always came across as a regular guy, with no intellectual airs about him. You wouldn’t know he was a borderline genius unless you needed help with something. He was, and still is, as sharp as a tack.

I was very lucky to be his roommate freshman year at Wesleyan. Talk about hitting the lottery. Nobody ever had a better roommate than I did. Tom had a great album collection and loved to play Randy Newman’s “Short People” whenever I was in the room.

Tom always had an open mind. He liked meeting all sorts of people and got along well with everyone. I can’t ever remember hearing someone say something bad about Tom, and I never heard Tom say anything bad about anyone.

Tom liked people and couldn’t be bothered by, or intimidated by, stereotypes. He has a great sense of what’s right and wrong and was never afraid to be different or march to the beat of a different drummer. You have to love and admire his independent thinking.

He has the personal and intellectual depth that makes any time you spend with Tom enjoyable. Everyone invited to Tom’s retirement party should feel honored to have made Tom’s acquaintance and to be considered his friend. He’s one of the best friends anyone could have.

Our friend Tom became a legend during the COVID years. While Deb was washing off groceries in the kitchen, I was opening the back door to some Julius and Green from Treehouse Brewery.

When Tom was driving back from New York, he would stop at the brewery in Charlton, MA, get in line, and pick up some cans of joy. He would drop a few cans off on his way home and text me as he was driving away, “something at your back door!” I wonder what that could be.

I’m sure those cans of joy also found a home on his boat during the many sunset harbor cruises and fishing trips that he sponsored. I caught my first legal striped bass with him, and a couple weeks later I received a picture of me holding it, and I’m sure there were a couple Julius with it.

One thing that amazes us about Tom is his ability to connect with people wherever he is. He knows everyone’s story and can get people to talk to each other even if they don’t know each other.

Tom has plenty of connections too. I remember traveling with him to the tackle store in Malden. We made some bait purchases and received the “guaranteed inside scoop” of where the fish were. No fish. The next day, out of the blue, the tackle store owner called Tom to see how he had done. A new inside scoop was received that morning.

T and I spent 1st grade together at Our Lady’s. Even that early in life, we were the typical “Mutt and Jeff” friends. One of the things we did to amuse ourselves was trade eyeglasses. His made me feel taller and mine made him feel shorter. We had a ball doing that in the schoolyard.

Oddly enough, on the first day of 4th grade, my teacher introduced Tom as a new student to our class at Sacred Heart. As you can imagine, he was shocked to be made a spectacle, and the moment he moved to acknowledge the class, a book he was concealing under his jacket slid to the floor with a thud.

Yes, he was an avid reader, but he always maintained an upbeat and thoughtful take on all situations.

There are too many to count from the last almost 30 years. I feel so lucky to have grown up with Uncle Tom just upstairs or down the street.

If I had to pick, it would be the times he let me drive the boat on the Charles, even through the locks one time. I feel so lucky to have him as an uncle and my godfather.

I might be considered a short-term friend of Tom. We have only been palling around since 1974.

We met on the rugby pitch at Wesleyan as freshmen seeking athletic challenges and fraternity. We were never very good at rugby, but we became lifetime friends, which is all the better.

I can think of no better proof of the quality of the man than his many, many friends. Who else hosts an annual Christmas party for his elementary school buddies where 40 people show up? Nobody else.

Tom has always been a leader. People gravitate to him, follow his lead, and seek his advice. I can give an excellent example from his first year at Wesleyan. In the spring, the housing lottery for our sophomore year was looming. The prospects were bleak. Tom had a brilliant idea.

He learned that the KNK frat house was losing all but two members to graduation. If he could convince a group of us to join the frat, we could perform a friendly takeover. Huge doubles for all, two living rooms, two upstairs lounges, and an industrial kitchen.

He organized the group, took over the house, and it became the center of our social life for the next three years. Who else does this sort of thing? Nobody but Tom.

I’m looking forward to many years of your company. I see us fishing, skiing, and cycling in an age-appropriate manner, with much chat, laughter, and happiness even when the fish don’t bite, the snow is like ice, and the roads are all uphill.

Stay well, my friend.

I’d like to start by saying how fortunate my family has been to have Tom and Jane as our next-door neighbors for so many years. The memories we’ve shared are all good ones, and I truly look forward to many more.

Tom has always had a great mix of generosity and curiosity. Whether it was a spur-of-the-moment invitation to have a beer on his front porch or a spontaneous trip on the Sweet Jane down the Charles River, through the locks, and into Boston Harbor, there was always something memorable happening.

And then there was the time I watched Tom mowing his lawn in late fall, during a snowfall. I couldn’t help but ask why, and of course, he casually explained he was just running the rest of the gas out of the mower. To this day, it’s the only time I’ve ever seen someone mow the lawn in the snow.

As many of you know, whenever you’re with Tom, things are never uneventful, in the best possible way.

Tom, best of luck in your retirement. It’s well deserved. I’m excited to see what the future holds for you and Jane, and I have no doubt it will be amazing.

I have one word to describe Tom, and that’s intrepid.

Last summer, when we were on a bike trip in Norway, we climbed to the top of Sognefjellet Pass, ascending almost 5,000 feet in the freezing rain.

At the top, several of us gathered in the warming hut, waiting for Tom. As usual, he was grinding up the mountain in too hard of a gear. He was saving his easiest gears in case the ride got harder, even though he was on one of the most difficult climbs in Europe.

He finally arrived, grizzled and drained by his efforts, as we all were. Fortunately, there was a bus waiting to take us down the mountain, which our group was thankful for.

Except Tom. He insisted that the ride would not count unless he also rode down the mountain. So he did, in the freezing rain, arriving back at the hotel an hour and a half later, just in time to regale us with the tale of his epic and harrowing descent at happy hour.

This picture says it all: showing up with a smile, a great sense of humor, and never afraid to have a little fun, even if it means rocking the ugliest sweater at Paddy’s.

That’s just who you are: someone who brings energy, laughter, and authenticity wherever you go. Seventy years in, and you’re still the kind of person people want to be around, genuine, steady, and always good for a story or a laugh.

I’m grateful for your friendship and all the memories, sporting events, river rides, and neighborhood watch, also known as beers on your porch. I look forward to many more.

Let’s just say that Tom and Jay have differing political opinions. On a beautiful Saturday morning on Cape Cod back in 2015, my cousin came into the house and said to Jay, someone is out in the driveway putting Hillary Clinton signs all over your back window.

Jay went flying out the door ready to kick some ass, only to find Tom there with a great big smile. It was hilarious!!!

Tom — congrats on your retirement! Life at PTC is not the same without you. Thanks for all the amazing memories made over the years.

I wish you nothing but the best in your retirement and hope you get to soak up as much time with your friends and family as possible!

Congrats to a one-of-a-kind person.

Dave

Tom epitomizes the kind of person you know, with absolute certainty, you can rely on. Together with Jane, Tom was the first person to welcome us to the neighborhood.

By the second time I saw him, he remembered not only our names, but corrected others on their pronunciations and the names of our dogs. Since then, one of the reasons we call this place home is because Tom is our neighbor.

I particularly cherish the end of summer 2024, when he invited me for a boat ride at night to see the Boston skyline. I was going through a difficult time and my family was away. He likely doesn’t remember how important that moment was, or how many others like it have meant the world to us. That’s just who Tom is.

We love Tom!

on behalf of Renata, Alexa, and Camila Ballesteros,Luis

Worth repeating… a rehash of my remarks from 10 years ago, as we celebrated Tom’s 60th. Still as true today, and then some. — Neal

My Brother Tom

My big brother Tom, quite a guy. Whether you know him as Tom, Uncle Tom, Dad, Jane’s husband, TK (or TK Baba), or even the first “Little Worm” (Dad used to call him the Wanderer Launderer…), you have to admit he is a special guy. Funny, smart, kind, caring, very knowledgeable about a wide variety of things, nurturing, with a great way with people. He has a great laugh and a great sense of humor, and enjoys nothing more than getting us to laugh with him.

Tom always had great curiosity and a thirst for knowledge. My mom always loved to tell the story of how Tom used to get out of washing the dishes after dinner by asking questions about the world that she couldn’t quite answer, so she’d send him to the den to look for the answers in the encyclopedia. Tom was always a car buff, with great mechanical ability, even long before he was old enough to drive. He was always the go-to guy for help getting your bike back up and running, or fixing any other mechanical problem you might be having.

When I was a kid I had a lot of people telling me what to do (or what not to do). Go figure — Dan & Clare’s youngest, student of the nuns at Sacred Heart, the younger brother to five Kenslea boys. Funny though, I don’t really ever remember Tom telling me what to do, though he was always pretty good at getting me to do what he thought was best. Tom had this way — still does — of instead of giving instructions, offering helpful thoughts like “you know, when something like that happened to me, I tried this…” Seems pretty basic now, but at the time it stood out as very helpful, and not nearly as bossy as some others seemed.

Tom was a great world traveler as well, living in France twice before he was twenty-one. First for three months in high school (still friends with Denis Boutte 53 years and counting), then a full school year in Nantes during college. After college he took off for Mardi Gras in New Orleans with some friends from his rugby team and didn’t come back until he had hitchhiked almost all the way to South America and back, about six months later.

I remember the day he returned from that trip. It was the summer after I had graduated high school. I was out riding my bike, and as I came down Morton Street and turned onto Comm. Ave., I saw an 18-wheeler parked in front of the house, on the wrong side of the carriage lane, on the grass. I thought, “that’s weird,” then almost immediately realized why it was there — “Tom’s home” — then just as quickly came the next thought: “man, is dinner going to be good tonight!” And certainly Mom didn’t disappoint. (If I remember correctly, it was ribs.)

Tom always had a voracious appetite, and Mom loved that. She was out to feed the world, and Tom always loved whatever she was cooking and ate more than any of the rest of us. About the only thing he was never good at was gaining weight, even with all that eating. So the fact that he was home after all that time and with a guest (the truck driver, naturally invited not just to dinner but to stay the night) was, well, just Tom.

It was just another example of how Tom had — has — this great knack for connecting with people. The truck driver picked him up on a highway in Ohio or somewhere and brought him right to the front door, I’m sure fascinated, as we all were, listening to Tom’s tales of his adventures south of the border. The 17 days with the French Canadian family in the VW camper, helping fix the camper, translating for them, pitching in with cooking and cleaning. The 3- or 4-day ride in the outrigger canoe.

The years and the connections have continued, adding friends and relatives to the list of people happy and proud to know Tom and to have him in our lives — to listen to his tales and sometimes to take his gentle advice, to listen to his jokes and enjoy as he makes us laugh, and laughs with us.

So Tom, we wish you happy birthday, and many more — many more journeys and adventures, many more good meals, many more shared laughs, and maybe even a few more chances to pass on your wisdom, ever so gently.

This is a simple anecdote that has stayed with us, and makes us appreciate Tom’s personality.

Greg and I had been married a short time when he and Jane visited us in our Brighton apartment. Tom excused himself to the bathroom (where there was, oddly, only one toothbrush in the holder at the sink). Upon returning to our living room, Tom, in a serious tone, asked, “OK, so which one of you brushes their teeth?”

We found — and still do — Tom’s quick wit and wonderfully dry sense of humor delightful!

Happy retirement, Tom!

Greg & Joyce