“Michael Keever is a wonderful tour guide. He took me to Athens, where I ran the original route of the marathon from Marathon to the center of Athens. Michael drove the pace car, and afterwards shared his intimate knowledge of Athenian secrets, which he also describes in his book Passing Off. He is fond of quoting his agent, who used to say “run and done.” But when my run was over, Michael was not done helping me. He listened to all my fears and brought me home a satisfied client and a much less fearful cancer patient.”
“For a young man, Michael understands old age. He gave me the chance to personally deliver a gift to my daughter and then he wrote up my story telling why I made that gift. Now that people know what happened to me, I feel I can pass away happy and, Jesus Christ willing, look down to see what my daughter does with her inheritance. (For that story, click here or on “stories.”)
“In these last days, the truth is necessary. Michael Keever traveled with me to Berlin, the city of my birth and youth. The truth: on the way back, I was angry with my companion for not providing me with the solace I had wanted. But near the end, I know now Michael was right to let me discover my truth. In death we will not find our earthly mothers waiting sleeplessly. We can only walk the streets where they have walked. I thank Michael for taking me to those streets and that truth.”
“For a goy, that Keever knows how to eat. He took me to the DelRay Hotel in Miami Beach, and we had surf and turf every night. Great lobsters, steaks as thick as what’s left of my arm. What I couldn’t finish, Keever could. He wouldn’t eat bagels and lox for breakfast though. But he definitely showed me a good time. Got us great tickets for the floor show, and got me under one huge umbrella on the beach. Hard to believe I waited until it was almost too late to visit my people’s second home. Let the Palestinians have the beachfront on the Mediterranean. Keever can change his name to Keeverstein and become Tourism Minister of the new nation in south Florida.”
“Michael is a wonderful and generous man. He pushed my wheelchair up and down the hills of San Francisco. When he wheeled me out onto the Golden Gate Bridge, I planned to jump over the side. But Michael showed me something there, and that something gave me the gift of continuing. All praise to him.”
(for more, click here or on “stories.”)
“I never wrote a fan letter before, but Mike is The Man. I ain’t got off for seven years, but he found me a hooker in Vegas that put a happy face on me, let me tell you. And I didn’t have to pay Mike nothing extra either. That man (and Genevieve) is worth whatever money you’ve been saving up.”
“Michael gave me a fantastic trip to Graceland. I believe that spending a day in that inspiring shrine put my leukemia in its place, so I moved to Florida and took up golf, which Elvis played though most people don’t know that. Well, when the leukemia came back, I emailed Michael and found that Ann is now doing the tours. She took me back to Graceland for another dose of Elvis radiation. Michael was an excellent guide, but Ann had a vision for my future, not just Michael’s “hope.” She told me all about the environmental stress that golf courses put on the planet and encouraged me to get involved in wetlands preservation. That’s one of them in the background of my photo. Even if I don’t go on and on, maybe this small part of the planet will. Thank you dear, dear Ann.
Betty Ann J.
I used to live next to the uranium-processing plant up here in Fernald, Ohio. When I got diagnosed, I knew I wanted to go somewheres, anywheres. But shoot I’d never been out of the Tri-State area. A friend who has a computer told me about Ann and she drove up from Cincinnati. We walked over to the gates of that plant from hell. It was a real cold day in November, all the trees bare, wind awhistling like a banshee. I was crying some, what being only 42 and all. Ann put her arm around me and said “Costa Rica, we’re going to the rain forest.” I didn’t even know where Costa Rica was and I don’t know how she did it all, but three weeks later there I was in that Corvocado National Park. It was real hot, but what I want to say, and I’ve never written nothing more than a grocery list before, is that hot as it was down there in Corvocado it’s Ann’s warmth—that arm around me—that I’ll be remembering in my new apartment in Hamilton.