[Congressional Record Volume 146, Number 107 (Wednesday, September 13, 2000)]
[Extensions of Remarks]
[Pages E1452-E1453]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]


                        TRIBUTE TO DORIS KEATING

                                 ______
                                 

                        HON. JOHN JOSEPH MOAKLEY

                            of massachusetts

                    in the house of representatives

                      Tuesday, September 12, 2000

  Mr. MOAKLEY. Mr. Speaker, this afternoon I wish to remember my very 
dear friend, Doris Keating.
  Mr. Speaker I wish not so much to say goodbye to a long-time and very 
dear friend, but to celebrate the life of one of the most wonderful 
people I've had the pleasure to know.
  And I know--as sure as I'm standing here--I know that Doris Keating 
is looking down upon her family and friends--right now--with that warm 
and wonderful smile she had for everyone she ever met.
  Never one to dwell on sadness--anytime you were feeling down her 
advice was always the same, `` Hey there'', she'd say, ``pull up your 
boot straps! Don't sweat the small stuff! Get out there and move 
along!''--And that would be her advice to all of us who miss her.
  Doris loved South Boston and she loved this the Gate of Heaven Parish 
where family and friends gathered to comfort one another as Doris 
passed.
  She was born in South Boston. She was Baptized at Gate of Heaven, was 
Confirmed there, Married there, and true to form--Doris was holding 
Court there on the day we all said goodbye.
  She never missed the Saint Patrick's Day Parade that winds past 
there. And I can't remember a single year when as I marched by Doris 
didn't run out in the street to ambush me and other Politicians with a 
great big kiss.
  I'm convinced, Mr. Speaker, that the only ones that didn't get that 
kiss from Doris were the Clydesdales.
  Every St. Patrick's Day, as I drive past Molly and Wacko Hurley's and 
as I drive past the Gate of Heaven, I'll think of her.
  I'll think of Doris and her famous Open House Parties where everyone 
was always welcome.
  I'll think of the washing machine and bathtub filled with beer. And 
I'll think of the laughs we shared.
  Actually, as I watched the Constitution sail into Boston Harbor last 
July, I was reminded of one of Doris' favorite yarns.
  It seems Doris and the family were out on Dan Sullivan's trawler one 
beautiful Fourth of July Morning. They were passing by Castle Island 
trying to get the best vantage point for the cannon salute from Old 
Ironsides.
  Doris decided that was the time to visit the Iadies room.
  As luck would have it, the propeller of Dan's boat got caught up in a 
line, just as the Constitution was passing by. And there was poor 
Doris--firmly situated in the ladies room--when the cannons of the 
U.S.S. Constitution began firing across the bow of Dan Sullivan's boat.
  Deafened by the concussion, and covered with soot from the gun 
powder, looking like a coal miner just finishing the midnight shift, 
Doris managed to compose herself, exit the ladies room fully coiffed, 
with the presence of mind to sweep up the soot from the deck, which she 
always kept on her mantle so she could tell that story over and over.
  Doris was never at a loss for a laugh.
  But as happy go lucky as Doris was, she was also fiercely loyal to 
those she loved--her family most of all.
  A close second--anyone who knew our friend Doris would tell you--were 
Sammy and Boots, the two cats to whom the Grand Darm of South Boston 
dedicated her life.
  The family, I understand is convinced that Doris put the cats out, 
only so that she could torment herself trying to call them back in 
before Midnight.
  There was no limit to Doris' loyalty, and there was nothing she 
wouldn't do for a friend.
  One of those great human beings who never fail to give--whether 
they've got it or not--Doris personified the old adage. And that was to 
live for the people upstairs, downstairs, and over the back fence.
  More than almost anyone I know, Doris lived that sentiment every 
single day of her life.
  Doris worked in my office ever since my days in the Boston City 
Council, and one of my strongest supporters ever since I ran for State 
Representative in 1950. But most importantly, Doris was one of my 
dearest, most trusted and loyal friends. And there was nothing she 
couldn't do.
  Doris could write a recommendation that could get Attilla the Hun a 
Merit Badge from the Eagle Scouts. And I know four guys who will tell 
you that without Doris Keating, they probably never would have made it 
through law school.
  But I'll let them say who they are.
  And anyone who knew Doris would tell you, the same loyalty and tough 
love Doris showed her family and friends was not at all lost on the 
great sports teams of Boston.
  Doris was two when the Red Sox won the World Series, and she waited 
patiently and enthusiastically for 82 years for the magic to happen 
again.
  Her extended family included Doug Flutie, and Danny Ainge, Drew 
Bledsoe, and her newest adoptee, Nomar.
  And whether she was sitting at home knitting an Irish Afghan, or at 
one of her old haunts back in the old days, either Zito's, Pie Alley, 
or the Other Place, Doris was an overtly loyal fan.
  And on more than one occasion, either her husband, Red, or one of the 
boys would have to smooth things over as a result of her loud 
enthusiasm.
  Actually, the first time Red brought Doris to a Bruins game it was to 
see the Montreal Canadians play at the Boston Garden.
  She got so caught up in Fernie Flamin's breakaway, that she nearly 
beat the poor guy in front of her to death with her program. Needless 
to say, Red stepped up and straightened things out.
  Not that it was necessary. To hear her kids tell it, Doris was lethal 
with footwear, and could take down any man from fifty yards with one of 
her slippers.
  Doris never, ever lost the spirit that made her so loved by everyone 
who knew her.
  Not all that long ago, during a particularly tough time, Doris was 
laid up with Spinal Menengitis, and was actually in a catatonic state, 
when, during the Buffalo Bills/Patriots Play-Off game--Buffalo's coach 
put Rob Johnson in the game instead of her man, Doug Flutie, Doris 
snapped out of it, screaming ``Oh, for God's sake, why in God's name 
didn't they put in Flutie!!''
  And you know--Doris was right.
  That's my friend, Doris.
  In the toughest of times, there was never any complaining, but there 
was humor. She was tough when she got mad, but Doris never, ever held a 
grudge.
  Her children will tell you, once the slipper was thrown, that was it. 
It was over.
  And if one of the kids were angry leaving for school in the morning, 
Doris would always call them back to say the same thing--``Up, Up!!

[[Page E1453]]

Come back here and give me a kiss. You never know if I'm gonna be here 
when you get back.''
  Well, Doris left us all in friendship, in love, and in peace.
  She'll be missed, and she was a blessing to all who knew her.
  And as the Irish Blessing goes, ``Until we meet again, my old friend, 
may God hold you in the palm of his hand.''

                          ____________________