Eulogy for Francis Xavier Keane

11/14/69 – 4/23/16

            Welcome everyone and thank you for coming. Thank you also to Monsignor Gilleece for having us in this beautiful church. We lost St. Denis, our spiritual home in Yonkers, so thank you for having us here.

            [Also before I forget I wanted to thank all the UPS workers who came yesterday. I can’t tell you how much it meant to our family to have the “army of Brown” there saying so many nice things about Fran. It was a great comfort and confirmed for us that it wasn’t just us who felt this way about him].

            This easily could have been the eulogy for a man who was dealt too many bad hands, and who perhaps with justification turned his back on life, drew inward and became cold and miserable. 

            But it’s not -- this eulogy is for Francis Xavier Keane -- the most wonderful son, brother, uncle, nephew, cousin, in-law, neighbor and friend one could ever have. A man who brought joy and laughter to everyone he met. A man who did good deeds, who was warm, generous and kind. A man who we will miss so much. 

            They say no two children are born into the same family. And we were not. You see, I have the distinct privilege of having been the only little brother Francis Keane has ever had. Nobody else can say that. What a wonderful and distinct honor that has been.

            [People have always thought that I’ve had some special insight into understanding Fran. Please. It’s like the Holy Trinity. You don’t try to understand. You just accept].

            Frank was born as child number 8 to Mary and Vinny Keane of Yonkers, NY. He was born into a loving home, but the bad hands he was dealt began immediately. Some people may not know this, but at 3 months he was diagnosed with spinal meningitis, spent a month in the hospital and was not expected to survive. He did. Frank had 9 lives. That was the first.

            Frank was a star of Park Hill, wandering up Rockland Avenue with a big smile at age 4 to make friends of all creeds, colors and ages. [Whether it was Chang or Mike or Jimmy or Paul or Lawrence and so many others.] Riding his big wheel up to Hillcrest Avenue to make some more friends.

           Fran liked to push the limits.

           Fran liked to push our limits!  

            Fran was generous from the get-go. If you spilled your Coke, he would give you his. What kid does that?

            He struggled academically but [he was really a smart guy, with a real appreciation for music and science and math]. He struggled academically but thrived socially at St. Denis, where he became famous and even drew a teacher’s note for his endless renditions of “Rhinestone Cowboy.” His laughter was contagious and his ability to see the world through the eyes of a child never left him.

            [In one of my favorite pictures of Fran from a few years ago, there he is across the seal pool at the zoo with the look of a child on his face. Just like a bunch of kids next to him. That look never left him].

            Fran’s larger than life and over the top personality began early. It shouldn't surprise anyone that his favorite baseball player was Reggie Jackson, that he idolized J.R. Ewing, or that he crooned to the likes of Prince, Madonna or Broadway musicals.   

            Fran took a paper route and became a shrewd business man. [He innovated and taught me to collect my paper route money every other week to save time]. Nobody in the world could calculate 8.25% sales tax or a 35% restaurant tip faster than Fran. Nobody was more honest than Fran.

            At age 14, Fran got lost in the Vermont woods for 24 hours, sending us all into a panic. Though I was reading a map and gave him $5 when he left, I still maintain I had nothing to do with it. He wasn’t found -- he found his way out. 9 lives.

            Dad died on Fran’s 19th birthday. Another bad hand. Fran took over the family store and worked 60-80 hour weeks for over 10 years. He gave our household income and stability at a crucial time. I like to tell people that I put myself through college and law school, but in a big way, Fran did.    

            In his early 20’s Fran was diagnosed with a dreadful condition called Wegener’s Disease. For the rest of his life, this made it difficult for him to breath, put him in the hospital many times, and required some terrible operations, many of which we didn’t know about until after the fact. He didn’t want anyone to worry. I never ever heard Fran make one single complaint about his physical condition. He struggled on and survived. 9 lives.

            [And just in case anyone is counting, we are not going to get to nine. Just think of all the times you wanted to kill Fran but didn’t. That will make up the difference]. 

            Fran faced a lot of curveballs that would make the best hitter strike out. Fran hit home run after home run after home run. [I like to think of Fran as he is in the picture with the obituary. With him in the batting cage after hitting a home run, looking up and admiring his work].

            I think Fran’s challenges were a gift. [We’re Irish, we think of suffering as a gift]. They were a gift to him and to us. They made him live every day as if it was his last, and to treat people the way they should be treated. [A gift that he paid for and that we received].

            [And I don’t want us to feel sorry for Fran. That’s the last thing he would have wanted].

            Fran always reached for the brass ring on the carousel.

            After leaving the store he loved to travel and saw the world, going to places like:

                        Puerto Rico, London, Amsterdam, Paris, Rome, Switzerland, Germany

                        Atlanta, San Francisco

                        Rio de Janeiro [where his favorite spot was the 24 hour coconut water stand across the                                       street from the hotel]

                        Quebec City, Barcelona, Madrid

                        The Bahamas, Miami Beach

                        Los Angeles, San Diego

                        The Grand Canyon 

                        Las Vegas

            I wasn’t supposed to talk about Las Vegas.

Fran knew how to treat people. 

            UPS had a slogan “what can Brown do for you?” It should have been “What can Fran do for you?”

            We all know the many good things Fran did for us. Taking Elizabeth trick or treating after working 12 hours when she was 3, and 4, and 5 and 6 and 7. [He didn’t have to do it, but he did].Taking the nieces and nephews who he loved so much to the circus or to Broadway shows or to see the wolves. Shoveling your walk after a snow storm before you even woke up. 

            Doing anything he could to make you laugh and to make you happy.

            Fran did a lot of nice things nobody ever knew about. [I wonder how many good things he did for people that we will never know about].

            He may not have been able to recite for us the Corporal or Spiritual Works of Mercy -- but he lived them. 

            [I’d just like to share with you some things that Fran did that people might not know about]:

            1.         Near the store was an adult home of over 200 mentally challenged residents. [Basically homeless people cooped up in an old hotel]. The throwaways, the refuse of society. Fran knew most of their names. A little bit about them. Where they were from. What kind of candy they liked. He talked to them. [He stopped them from spending too much money]. He dropped off food and clothes for them at the home. [He insisted after any party or Thanksgiving that he take the leftover food for them].

Fran treated these people -- like Christ would have treated them. 

            2.         For many years Fran took part in the post office’s Operation Santa, buying Christmas toys and bringing them to kids in housing projects in the South Bronx. Somewhere out there is a kid who may be down on his luck but remembers the year Santa Fran came and will recall that there is still some decency left in the world.

            3.         Fran and I went to dinner with Mom in Hastings a few years back. Seated at the next table was a family on Fran’s UPS route. Fran knew all of their names. The father’s name. The wife’s name. Their kids’ names. He even knew the dog’s name and asked how he was doing. The family left, and when our check came the waitress told Fran the tab had been paid. [Who does that for the UPS guy? What kind of UPS guy do you have to be for someone to do that for you]? 

            4.         Fran came to visit me in March and when he came in the night doorman gave him a big hello and said “my buddy!” The next day I asked “how did you remember him from last year when he just came to feed the cats one weekend?” The doorman responded “he was cool, he hung out, he spent time chatting with me.” Fran probably learned his name.  

            5.         One of Fran’s neighbors told me he last saw Fran a week ago. The man was outside trimming tree branches and Fran helped. The man had to go to church before the job was done and they said their goodbyes. When he got back from church the job was finished. There was a neat pile of branches at the curb. 

            [Yesterday was in many ways a terrible day but a beautiful day at the same time. We heard so many good things about Fran from people we never met.

            One of Fran’s fellow drivers told me that Fran once noticed that he likes to read magazines before his shift. Fran asked “do you like Reader’s Digest?” The guy said “yeah I like Reader’s Digest.” The next day Fran brought him a big stack of Reader’s Digests. He left a new one on the seat of his truck every month.

            We met one of Fran’s neighbors who was sick a few years ago. Even though he is now better, the man has not been able to shovel his own walk for over two years. Because Fran did it for him.

            Even this morning coming out of the hotel I saw a UPS truck. And all week I’ve had a burning need to go up to every UPS guy I can find and give him a hug and ask if he knew my brother. I pulled up to the truck where the driver was sorting a bunch of packages. I said “I’m Francis Keane’s brother.” He stopped what he was doing and said “let me get down from here.” He shook my hand and apologized that he couldn’t go to the wake. You see, he was one of the guys who took on extra deliveries so the others could come. He told me what a good man and “character” Fran was. And we all know what that means].

            These are some of the reasons why everyone is saying so many good things about Fran. [People say nice things at times like this, but this has been something else].

            Things like:

                        "I loved Fran.”

                        [“Everyone loved Fran”]

                        “He always had a smile."

                        “He always made me laugh.”

                        “He always went out his way for us.”

                        “He was one of a kind."

                        "He was the nicest man I ever met”.

Fran treated us the way Christ would have treated us. 

            And this is why we will miss him so much. If only he could have known how wonderful he was. In a way I think he did.

            This is a time of sadness but there are many more things that comfort me than make me sad. 

            I am grateful that we were able to appreciate Fran while we had him. 

            I am reminded of a story told by Brick, the innocent but wise little boy on “The Middle.” He was doing some research on dealing with or anticipating loss and found the story of a Buddhist master and his treasured goblet. The master tells his student: 

            "You see this goblet? For me this glass is already broken. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy it, I drink from it. It warms my hands, it’s beautiful to look at. But someday when I put this glass on a shelf and the wind comes through the window and knocks it over and it falls to the ground and shatters, I will say, “of course.” When I understand that the glass is already broken, every moment I have with it is precious.”

            I am comforted that Fran is reunited with Mom after only a year. He couldn’t be apart from her much longer, and she needed some time to ready a home for him. 

            I am comforted that Fran is reunited with Dad, who I’m sure has said to Fran the words any son longs to hear from his father: “I love you. I’m proud of you. Good work. Welcome home.” 

            On a trip to DC with Fran in the late 90’s he stood before the statue of Thomas Jefferson at his memorial. There was Jefferson standing 19 feet tall, healthy and strong. And there was Fran, stout and robust and regal in his own right. I couldn’t help but to snap his photo and say “two great men!” How prophetic.

            I’ve come to learn that truly great men such as Fran build their own monuments, not of bricks and stone that you can see, but of things you can feel -- acts of love and kindness and faith and hope and charity built one on top of the other. Just like monuments, starting out rough and heavy and difficult at first but getting lighter and less burdensome and more beautiful as you go up, layer by layer before finally reaching a bright and beautiful pinnacle for all to see and emulate.

            Fran has built a wonderful memorial -- for himself and for us. 

            We are often reminded to try to be more like Christ. That may be a tall order. Trying to be a bit more like Fran, or more “Franlike” if you will, may be a good start. 

            So Fran, we know you didn’t like goodbyes. [At family parties there would always come a time when we would look around and say “Fran must have left”].

            We know you didn’t like goodbyes, but there are no more papers or packages to deliver. No more tests to take. The marks are in: 100%, straight A’s, all correct, high honors. You even get a scratch and sniff sticker.

            Fran, you are my best friend. You are the most wonderful son, brother, uncle, nephew, cousin, in-law, neighbor and friend we could ever have. We love you, and until we meet again, we will remember you always. May God bless you.