When you live in a small town

everything is magnified, and Senoia is no exception.

A fender-bender instantly becomes

the subject of discussion at Crook's Hit and Run convenience store, and

new people moving into town become the subject of intense speculation.

In 1989, neighbors began seeing

moving vans outside the gorgeous old home at 371 Pylant St., and the buzz

began.

There were certainly a lot

of boxes being moved into the house, and residents were anxious to see

who had chosen to make the small Coweta County town home.

After a history in show business,

Tom McKeehan had decided to retire in Senoia. Last week, Tom had his final

curtain call, and died in a hospital in Atlanta. Tom's loss leaves a huge

void in the intricate weave of this unique town.

I met Tom shortly after he

moved to Senoia, and was just fascinated by him. Born in LaGrange, he

led one of the most interesting lives of any person I had met.

Tom's love was theatre and

he worked and operated theaters in Coconut Grove, Fla., and New York City.

If you ever prompted him, he could tell you fascinating stories about

working with Mae West, Tennessee Williams, William Inge and hundreds of

stars who graced the footlights and the big screen.

After I first met him, I asked

why he had chosen Senoia to call home. He said he wanted to be within

30 minutes of the Atlanta airport, and just fell in love with the home

and Senoia.

Well, the feeling was mutual,

as many residents this week mulled over the passing and loss of one of

the city's most colorful residents.

Although he was retired, Tom

jumped into city activities and became one of the city's treasures. He

was always there to help out, whether it was contributing money for playground

equipment at the park, or buying benches to help spruce up the city's

downtown.

One of Tom's biggest legacies

will be his donation of time, money and effort for the historical society's

annual progressive dinner.

He would usually stage the

main course at his house, and it was always fun to see people's first

reactions when they entered his home.

He was a huge collector of

Oriental art, but also was a big fan of pop culture. Look on one wall

and you might see a Japanese screen next to an oversized Pepsi sign.

A bust of Elvis could be placed

next to an antique cabinet. Tom's love of art was only matched by his

sense of humor.

Although he lived alone on

Pylant Street, there was always something going on at his home. Driving

down Senoia's darkened streets at night, you would usually see his house

blazing with lights, and you just knew he was working on his next project.

Tom's holiday parties became

one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. But in keeping

with his spirit of community service, Tom would always ask the guests

to bring a children's toy to the party, so they could be distributed to

the less fortunate in the community.

Even though he didn't have

children, Tom focused much of his community service for the kids. He donated

many books to the Senoia Library, and also left a very moving monument

in the park.

If you drive by the park, you'll

notice a magnolia tree planted at the entrance. I remember Tom's outrage

at the bombing of the federal building in Oklahoma City, and his horror

about the children who were killed or left without parents.

He planted the magnolia tree

in memory of the kids, and that tree will one day provide shade and coolness

for Senoia's kids.

Tom was also the bridge in

uniting the old and new communities in Senoia. He moved to town just as

folks from the Atlanta area started discovering Senoia. In many small

towns, you're only a local if you can trace back roots for several generations

and outsiders are generally shunned.

But Tom's great laugh and smile

and spirit of inclusiveness helped rally the town as the force of growth

crept into town.

Tom's meaning to the community

cannot be understated. It can best be summed up, appropriately, from a

Broadway show, "Rent," and its show-stopping song, "Season

of Love."

"Five hundred twenty five

thousand six hundred minutes. How do you measure the life of a woman or

a man, in truths that she learned, or tears that he cried, in bridges

he burned or the way that she died? It's time now to sing out though the

story never ends, let's celebrate and remember a year in the life of friends."

Last week, I drove by the big

house on Pylant Street and saw it enveloped in darkness, but realized

that Tom's life and love of Senoia is a beacon that will shine forever.